8:30am Wednesday 29th March
From the other room, Pete's alarm clock wakes me from a deep and unhealthy sleep. I really should get up, I'd be sleeping too
much recently and besides I had a date with the Korean Navy...
Shortly after arriving in Darwin we'd booked a 4WD tour of the area's National Parks. I was narky as all hell at having to get up at 5am the first morning. However we turned out to have a really good bunch of people, 9 of us in all with Andy the
driver/guide as the tenth. Andy later said that with 3 Irish on the truck he knew it wasn't going to be a dry trip but he'd never
seen a crew that got through 5 slabs of beer in 3 nights - and 2 weren't even drinking beer!! After sweating our way through many waterfalls, rainforests, billabongs, forms of wildlife and getting our collective arses bitten right off by the DEETproof Mozzies in Kakadu we were pretty much bonded. Much fun was had, much beer drunk and songs sung round the campfire...oh and we saw some cool stuff too. The pictures of the park will, I hope, do much more justice than I ever could on paper. The one minor problem for me was that we were doing a lot of hiking and I only had one pair of socks I could wear. My other pair were wool and would have been murder in the humidity. I tried to wash them when I could - like in the many waterholes we swam in - but sadly by the end of the four days they were almost capable of self support. On the last day we went out in the boats or as
Pete more accurately described it - the mighty sardine tin. It is estimated that in the 40-30kms if the Mary River back from the coast there are over 10,000 saltwater crocs. In four hours we managed to see ONE! Yip, the rain had swelled the rivers and hidden most of the fierce reptiles. The luck of O'Reilly never ends! I didn't mind really, I'd seen my fill of crocs in Africa - although thinking back to how close I'd been to them in the light of the super safety precautions taken here sent a chill down my spine. Andy, who had been to Africa, said that the authorities there were very blase and that Zimbabwe alone had at least 40 croc deaths a year. Boy, I am I glad I didn't know that when I was getting up close and personal with one in a tiny wooden boat on Lake Baringo.
We all made it back to Darwin alive and with all limbs although possibly with a little liver damage. By which time Pete had found a passenger to Alice Springs - Paula from Laois, great fun to be around and by all appearances Pete was about to exchange one Irish nutter for another. And so it was that I came to celebrate my silver anniversary with the few of the Gondwana people that remained in Darwin. Paula had helpfully pointed out that being a quarter century I had now passed some physiological boundary and had, in medical terms, an 'older womb'. I'd also read years ago that your metabolism slows down after 25. Great! Not only was I a million miles from home with no job, no money and no prospects but despite being in my prime sociologically I was heading for the knackers yard from biological standpoint. What better way to forget about such concerns than a moronic nightclub. The Vic in Darwin is one of those places which bribes people to indulge in party games like miming sexual positions with complete strangers, by offering free alcohol. One of the reasons that I decided not to do north Queensland on this trip was the suspicion that all the discos there would be like the Vic. Don't get me wrong it can be good fun but you need a group and after a few nights it gets tired really quickly (unless you're 19 and have never travelled abroad before I assume). The up side to such places is of course that they do give out copious quantities of free beer and seeing as it was my birthday no sooner had we arrived than we were given three jugs.
I was just finishing dinner when I was called on stage to do my, now world famous, Brittany Spears impression. It wasn't even 9 o'clock by then and most people were still eating hence all eyes were on the solitary fruitcake on stage. Not that I didn't love the attention :-) There were a particularly receptive bunch of young Asian lads in the crowd. I thought for sure they were a tour group and much later found out that they were the Korean Navy and on 2 days shore leave from East Timor. It was shaping up to be a big night but the lads had a curfew and (a la Cinderella) had to get back to the ship by midnight. Bummer! There were a few pictures taken but I have a sneaking suspicion I might be the latest war pinup!! I also went round the whole night with balloons tied to my arms just in case anyone wouldn't recognise me from the Brittany shenagans. Seriously I had people coming up to me as far down as Alice saying "Hey aren't you Brittany Spears from Darwin?" {cringe}. The night wore on, the Koreans left and me and Paula tried unsuccessfully to cheer up some New Zealand army dudes. Later we went downstairs to see a live band in the pub part. They were quite good until they started doing covers. Paula, who's obviously been away from home too long, was still enjoying herself but after an hour of hearing some classics being murdered I gave up and went home. I never did make it out of bed to meet the navy guys...shame though, they were great craic.
On hearing that the Vic river was 0.8m and falling, but due to rise again, we decided to get down there and take our chances. Lucky too as I'd decided to jump ship that sunday if nothing the situation didn't improve. The only bummer was we had to miss Friday night in Kununurra, which was the only fun you could have all week. Four hours later(1 to pack up and 3 to get out there) at sunset we got there to find the river at 0.75m. Disappointing you might say...and so it was that I came to spend St Patricks Night playing pool with inebriated abos and a queenslander called Lyndon(as in B.Johnston) at the Vic River Roadhouse.
While Pete got reaccquainted with the other veterans of the Ord River, Me and Lyndon played Peter and May in some pool. Lydon later abandoned me for Billy, I teamed up with another guy called Steve, who'd been to "Sydnay" when we was a lad - apparently quite an achievement in rural NT. It was begining to look like it might be a bit of an achievement for me too! All this was fine until Peter decided he needed to clout the hell out of May and May decided to use me as a shield. From what I could gather she'd made a selection on the jukebox without consulting him. As much and all as I felt for her plight, Peter, although ancient, was huge and I didn't particularly feel like ending the evening with a thick ear. Luckily the pub was closing up and we all got thrown out. Later Billy and Steve(who seemed a little too interested in my person) turned up at our tent. Billy insisted I come over to his site and meet his wife. That was quite nice actually, particularly as it was a short visit and one in which I wasn't required to buy anyone a beer. The wife Susan was friendly enough. "A good christian woman, she don't drink",said Billy. I met the grandparents, Steve's wife and various who all appeared to be drunk (except the kid). I was then allowed to go to bed but not much sleep was had as about 30mins after the family broke into a major domestic which lasted a few hours.
The next morning the river was 0.55m, encouraging but we weren't about to break out the champers yet. A few hours later at midday we got a tow across at 0.3m when we heard it was raining in Katherine and more floodwaters were on their way - 0.3m my arse! In the middle of the river, in full flow, the water came up to just below the window!! Anway we dried out the car and got as fara Katherine that night. Next day we decied to make a bolt for Darwin. I was PMT-ed and Pete was in nicotine withdrawl(having quit smoking) and so neither of us wanted to hike Katherine Gorge on a hot airless day. We did give it a cursory glance from a helicopter though.
As the sun as on its way home for the night, the city of Darwin was approaching. There's 4,040kms of straight driving between Perth and Darwin, we'd managed to do it in just under 7,000kms. The trip which was suposed to take 3 weeks and cost about $600-$700 dollars, instead had taken five and a half weeks and cost about double that. Darwin which had been so far but yet so near for so long was now in our sights and it felt...oh I don't know, it felt just plain weird. After and fairly exhaustive and certainly exhausting tour of Darwins hostels we picked one. I got into a right depression about having to get a job and not even a pizza and a dumb nightclub could help me. So me and Pete booked a four day tour of the Kakadu and Litchfield National Parks with Gondwana .
As we've gotton to Darwin, albeit in decreased numbers and with questionable grip on our sanity, it seems an oppertune time to look back at the highlights of the trip, which have so far been notably absent. The first day of trip was good, very good. The Pinnacles sunset produced some of the best pics of the trip. More properly known as Nambung National Park, the pinnacles desert is a collection of dunes with sandstone peaks rather oddly jutting out of the sand all over the place. But the pictures will (eventually) explain all this for me! I remember as we set off, after getting lost for a while in the northern suburbs we stopped for fuel at a deserted roadhouse between Perth and Cervantes. An ozzie fella in the shop remarked that I was a long way from home. I wondered if outback people had some sort of ESP or if the paleness of my features had given me away but before I could speak the look on my face must have asked the question for me. "Victorian plates", he offered. Victorian plates?? I nodded sagely then I remebered that Pete had bought the car in Melbourne. "In that case", says I, "I'm a lot further away than you think". We continued to be noticed and remarked on in all the small places dotted along the coast, standing as testimony to how often Easterners ever come to WA.
Kalbarri National Park was pretty darn spectactular, the colours of the landscape having a vividness I have not seen since my days on safari. And it was silent, so very quiet beyond peaceful, perhaps a little eerie - especially to someone only a week arrived from Asia. Fish watching in the Ningaloo Reef in Coral Bay was amazing if not a little scary. Snorkling in the huge swells and strong current of the Indian Ocean was a world away to that of the placid waters of the Gulf of Thailand. Unlike the Great Barrier Reef the Ningaloo is so close to shore you can swim out to it. Because of the strength of the current all but olympians will need to do a drift snorkel meaning you walk south and after swimming out you simply let the current take you and watch the reef as it floats by below you. The serene scenes underwater are enough to take your mind off your situation but put your head in the air and the reality that you are way out of your depth adrift in an ocean with wicked waves and a vicious current, in an area where boats are crossing all the time and (it being australia) the only other person you can see in the water is a vague speck on the horizon. Add to that some of the fish being massive and the tendancy for fish like Barracuda to swarm in the calmer waters near the shore, it was quite a different day than I had expected (I tend to freak out if there's too many creatures around me). We did call in at the famous dolpin watching spot of Monkey Mia. The area itself is pretty and we got to see dophins but not much more than that. I found watching the people watching the dolphins much more interesting.
The final port of call before the trip started to take a decidedly pear shape was Exmouth and Cape Range National Park. This part of Australia is truly breathtaking. If we were looking for paradise we found it here. Miles of blue waters and white sands surrounded by rich bushland sprinkled with picturesque creeks. And of course more than a few crazed roos. And best of all the main beach in the area had about 5 other people besides us on it. If only internal airfares in this damn continent were cheaper, tonnes of Ozzies could enjoy the more remote parts of thier own country instead of holidaying in (relative) dumps like Bali. Broome when I saw it was a town without a heartbeat which was shame given that we'd all heard such great reports on it. The beach is mediocre and I suspect its only redeeming feature is as a gateway to the north in the Dry season. In the Wet you won't miss much by hightailing it out of town as soon as the floodwaters will let you. As for the rest of the trip, that was an experience of Australia not many travellers will be privilaged to witness. I wouldn't have missed the oppertunity but please god, I'll never ever have it again :-)
On reflection I should have known we were in for some troubles, killing that roo and leaving it to die was just bad karma...
In fact our problems started that evening when our car decided to pack up in the shopping center car pack in Port Hedland. After getting towed to a hostel narrowly avoiding a tropical downpour the car started with no problem the next morning. This I thought as bad as the car breaking down in the first place. We didn't know whant had caused the breakdown and now we didn't know why it was working thus making it highly probable that it would pack up again - and it did. This time in Australia's most isolated roadhouse. Luckily another traveller there had some experience with old cars. It turned out to be a problem with the starter motor overheating and requires us it give the motor a shower before starting the car after the engine gets hot.
After a week or so in Broome we decided it was time to make a break even though we didn't have a fourth person for the car to replace Karen who'd flown to Darwin. WE decided this when we were getting far to excited at the prospect of a Karoke night at one of the local bars and had taken to modifying the rules of Monopoly and Scrabble to include alcohol. Suffice to say that Broome in the off season is not a terribly interesting place. We set off with high spirits and a sense of being almost at our destination - even though we were only half way to Darwin there wasn't really that much to see in between as most of the roads are closed in the wet. On that first day it was about 4pm when we got to Fitzroy Crossing where we had intended to stay the night. On finding the areas only tourist attraction Geike Gorge was inaccessible due to flooding we pressed on the further 500kms to Halls Creek...
As we approached Halls Creek the sun set behind us and skies ahead grew dark as if to forebode the trial of endurance that was approaching. Flashes of sheet lighting were around in every direction threating to swallow us up and it rained hard on our solitary car in this deserted piece of highway. We pulled into the town and were greeted by more members of the cast of 'Night of the living Dead' whom we'd earlier seen in Fitzroy. Aborginal people are quite tall and have oddly sloped shoulders - the overall impression to my predjudiced eyes was a scene reminiscent of Michal Jacksons 'Thriller' video. My first memory of Halls Creek is that we'd pulled up outside the off licence when a woman came out the door and in full view of our headlights proceed to hitch up her skirt and use the back wall as a bathroom. We set up camp in a tropical rainstorm and spent a cold, wet, miserable night in the tents. From there things went seriously downhill...
The next morning we awoke to the news the Ord River was still flooded blocking our advencement, which was no surprise. However the strech of midly flooded roads we had passed the day before was now impassable, the Fitzroy River having risen in the overnight storms, making a retreat to Broome impossible and effectivly stranding us in Halls Creek - a prison without walls. To top it all there was nothing to do in the town and nowhere to visit in the surroundings as the rain had scrambled the areas network of dirt roads - you couldn't get 10kms out of town even with a 4WD! As if to add insult to injury the only campsite had no facilties for wet weather, no common area of shelter not even for cooking. We scoped out the joint and found it had two roadhouses and 3 pubs all attached to the same hotel. The first was the fancy pub which opened at 12pm and you couldn't wear flip-flops inside. Next was the can bar which oped at 11am, had wonky pool tables and served only cans, no glasses, allowed fip-flops and singlets(vest tops) and had the worst toliets I'd seen since Africa. Finally there was the one known as "The Cage" which opened at 10am. With no seats just a bench around the sides, no toilet, minimum dress code(ie you had to be wearing any), a little hole in the bar through which to give out the cans and a cage around the jukebox with two holes - one for the money and another to make your section. With most of the adult population drunk by midday, you can just imaginw what the scenes are like at closing time. That night was a Friday and out of desperation we checked out the local pub. Pete does a much better job of telling the story of the Friday night than I ever could at this stage. I've already sent a copy of his group email to some regular readers. Just email me if you'd like his version.
I rememeber once protecting my beer from a woman trying to take it off the bar. She was not yet ravaged by time and frequent beatings as a little piece of beer dribbled over her lip to run down her chin, I thought I could see something her eyes. Something which said she didn't want to be drinking in a bar in Halls Creek Western Australia any more than I did and that perhaps she too was trapped, a victim of circumstance, only the problem was very much bigger than a flooded road.
Halls Creek has a catchment population of 1,000 people and 3 main streets. Halls Creek has a police force of 17. Halls Creek has a brand new police station. The old one got burned down in riots last year. I guarentee you that no one outside the East Kimberly knows about that.
In other news Pete nearly got a punch but managed an athletic duck, whereas I had another aboriginal dude tell me "One day I'm going to sleep with you", nice to know the ould cross cultural sex appeal is still working...I think!
The guys did well and got talking to two chicks who were working there but from Perth, Kerry and Kiri(a kiwi). They took us in and let us crash at their place for a while and provided us with a telly to watch Ally McBeal which was rapidly becoming the highlight of our week. After 5 days there was a rumour that the Ord was dropping and every tourist in the place scarpered. However we didn't even get to the Ord as we were foiled by the Upper Penton which was still uncrosssable by sundown. Seeing as we had no supplies we high tailed back to Kerry and Kiri's - in time for Ally McBeal! The next day we tried our luck again and were in considerably higher spirits than the other tourists who'd camped out all night. After a day of trying to take shade, reading, chatting and occasional dips in the floodwaters we finally crossed the Ord at 4pm towed by a 4WD. Rumours were that more rain was due and that Turkey Creek might flood so we kept going to the oasis of civilisation that was Kununarra.
Kununurra is not a bad little place and there are a number of interesting day trips you can make from it. We looked at the Hidden Valley National Park, hiked up to the top of Kellys Knob at sunset, drove to Wydham, swam in the 'Grotto' waterhole, canoed the upper Ord and got drunk on friday night in the local pub with everyone else. However we had no where to go as the Victoria River was flooded to over 6m above its BRIDGE! By day 7 we were getting restless. By day 8 we were bored. By day 10 we were losing it entirely and Steve gave up and flew to Darwin. Me, Pete and some other strandees created a new version of Monopoly one night in the pub with a black marker pen and the back of a VB crate. With the roads being cut off in both directions the supermarkets began running out of bread, milk, meat and almost all fruit and veg bar pumpkins. After a few days of pumpkin soup, pumpkin curry, pumpkin stir fry and pumpkin salad the army airlifted in supplies. Needless to say the shops soon were low again and everyone who could stockpiled. Earlier on in the week I tried to get a job to quell the boredom but the only temporary employer in the area, the banana plantation, wanted people to stay for a month. I tortured myself with the thought that I might actually still be here in a month. Right about now I am seriously considering deserting this sinking ship and flying to Darwin...
Aoife, Kununarra, Thursday 16th March 2000, 15:40 WAST
In February of 2000, four strangers set off to Darwin. Three weeks later their update was found....
Vast plains of nothingness. I once drove from Perth to Darwin
with 3 people I didn't know, in a 1981 Corona station wagon(called the Mighty Lemon) without air-con and that is what I saw. You can only appreciate the implications not having AC in the car, when you realise that temperatures out here come in 3 categories: 'hot', 'fucking hot' and 'I'm gonna kill someone real soon'. Anyone thinking this kind of trip - 4,00kms (as the crow flies) through some of the hottest areas on earth in the summer - could be a holiday should have their heads read. It's no picnic, in fact it's a bit of a trial. Personally I responded to this challenge by going catatonic for much of the hottest parts of the journey. Anyone who has ever travelled with me or seen me in the office when the fans were playing up will recognise the picture I'm sure : head to one side, eyes with vacant slightly bored looking expression and drool coming out of the left side of my mouth. How my travel mates remained conscious enough to drive I don't know. Even after 7 months away from the miserable reaches of northern europe, I'm still not cut oout of the 40C of dead heat.
And the flies were just downright unbearable in parts. Yes! Worse than africa even. They landed on you , stuck to you and proceeded to boldly go where no insect had gone before, climbing into every available orifice. In your eyes , up your nose, onto your lips and practically mapping you r auditory canal. You try to keep them off but its impossible if you try to do anything else except full time swatting. I got used to them in most places but I always hated them crawling in my eyes.
When you drive here nothingness is all around you and the towns you pass
through look like they are running on a pace maker having long ago lost the
will to live on under their own steam. So we drove on headed for the half
way point of Broome which was to be our Mecca, our Oasis. And as we neared
the Top End , the weather got cooler, having less direst sunlight but a
whole heap more humidity. I remember on one of the hot days I was conked out
in the front passenger seat around 10am, already incapable of dealing with
the heat. I was greatly surprised to find all around me when I woke up about
an hour later greenery, grass everywhere and even a few clouds on the
horizon. I was overjoyed in fact. The others in the car where less pleased
with the new climate, it was alright for me I'd had 4 months to get used to
it, but they prefered the dry heat for their tempers and their sanitys.
Admittedly we saw some great scenery and beaches to make anything I saw in
Asia look like an unbridled shithole, but as the journey wore on we needed
something else, more life, more vitality, more...people!
Moral Dilemmas on the Cape Range Coastal Road
When you drive from any length of time in Oz, it is inevitable that you
will, eventually, hit a roo. This inevitability becomes a certainty if you
foolishly find yourself still in a deserted national park after sundown.
Such was the situation we found ourselves in after a good days drive and an
even better afternoons sight seeing in Cape Range National Park. The bush
sunset had been fabulous and we were all anxious to get to a campsite for
some well earned rest and much needed showers. As soon as the heat went out
of the day there were kangaroo everywhere. They particularly liked to sit at
one side of the road and as the vehicle approached, leap out and bound to
the opposite side of the road in some sort of stupidity induced quasi
suicide bid, instead of hopping to the safety of the bush behind them.
Kangaroos are a bit thick like that. Despite our best efforts, it wasn't
long before we'd done our bit for the national road kill stats. I was quite
surprised when the others stopped the car a few yards up the road and
reversed up the road to the site of the recent carnage.
"It may not be dead" said Pete.
"Hmm" I thought "I'm not sure I want to find out"
We went to have look at the cause of a nice new dent on the right hand side
of the car. It was a not altogether unphotogenic looking smallish roo with
its neck seemingly broken and a little trickle of blood under its ear,
clearly a goner but very definitely not dead. So what the hell would we do
now??
A gun would have been handy for such circumstances (not that I'm advocating
semi dead roos as an argument for the right to bear arms!) but all we had
mallet. Someone suggested we should draw straws (ala "Shallow Grave") but I
reckoned there was no way I was doing any skull smashing. It would have put
a right downer on my evening. I was all for leaving ASAP and count our
blessing that the thing didn't come through the windscreen or anything.
Meanwhile the guys debated what should happen. Pete, being the most humane
among us decided to take action and went rummaging for the mallet, much to
everyone else's alarm. We were about to let him go for it and turned away to
leave him to the gruesome task when I decided this was something Pete
shouldn't do alone. I'd stand with him for moral support. However it was
obvious his heart wasn't fully in it and I (in my chief role as god)
deciding that any such action would do more harm to him than benefit to the
animal, took back the mallet and we drove off - slowly and looking out for
all the roos along the way. There was a sombre, almost funereal mood in the
car till the next morning. And of course you'll get scant sympathy from
locals for your uneasy conscience as the Ozzies regard roos as little more
than oversized vermin.
Moral of the story : Never, ever return to a roadkill unless you are
prepared to kill it.
As we neared Broome I'd all but forgotten about those days when the sun was
unrelenting and the heat was so fierce it was better to keep your window
closed rather than be smacked by the blast furnace wind from outside. The
tropical climate is not with out its disadvantages though and after 5 days
constantly in sauna conditions my skin seems to have forgotten that I'm
approaching my quarter century and had opted for a teenage style zillion zit
breakout, instead of my usual radiant beauty. Broome wasn't exactly the
throbbing metropolis we'd hoped for - it was only slightly alive, it being a
pearling center cum tourist town out of season. What's worse the road to
Kununurra was flooded effectively meaning that we were stranded in the
rather unexciting Broome until the place dried out and we could continue to
the oasis that was Darwin.
Aoife, Broome, Western Australia, Wednesday 1st March , 13:00 WAST
Beginning to feel a little better now, the prospect of a road trip to Darwin
and the advent of crazy coincidence has cheered me up emmensly but by god it
was tough to keep my head up for a few days there...
But first another episode in the 'fun with airports' series. Imagine the
scene at Changi after having arrived from Bangkok a while earlier and I'm
about to check in, when the ground staff tell me that their system had told
them not to bord me cause according to them my visa expires in a few days! I
mean I knew it was ok, lots of my friends have come here and you get a year
to arrive from when the visa is issued, but what would you feel like
standing there after seven months?? They got clearance from the supervisor
and I got on bord but could I relax and enjoy the flight? Could I hell!
There was a nice little doubt in my mind that once I got there I'd get
turned around. Actually I think I might have been half hoping for this, for
reasons which will become apparent. Well it was all a storm in a teacup but
I can't leave Oz and re-enter on this working visa.
As I touched down in the airport I didn't really know what to think, I had
mixed feelings. After 7 months, 15,000 miles on land and about the same by
air, it felt really weird : a stranger in a strange land. The place even
looked different from the plane, the street lights were all green and
incredibly spaced out. With all the comms links and package tours and cheap
flights, Asia wasn't really all that far from home anymore, but Australia?
That was the other side of the world - wasn't it?
The pervading feeling was one of "what am I doing here?". I walked about
Perth International Aurport for a while in a daze and looking around vaguely
for a place to sleep - the plan being to crash out until public transport
came online. However wonder of wonders, there, outside was a shuttle bus
waiting to take me to wherever I wanted to go, at 2:30 in the morning!!
Marty was the driver and he even rang up the hostel and arranged a bed. What
service! Marty himself was great fun and the other passengers were an
english couple here for their sons wedding and a Japanese girl who appeared
to be flying out the next morning. Around 4am I went to go to bed after
ringing home to look for comfort from my re-entry culture shock. I spent the
next hour or so talking to the people in the hostel who'd come in from some
nightspot while I was on the phone.
That night and all the next day I was depressed. No matter how friendly and
welcoming the people were, I just couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't
young enough to enjoy the travellers scene here. Everyone appeared to be
having the time of their lives and the continent for them was one massive
18-30's holiday. I was having severe trouble getting with it all. Everything
here was massively expensive and all the women seems to have enormous butts!
I got a dinner invite on night from some Cork girls but didn't feel up to
going out or even being on company so I hid in my room. And no one could
understand why I wasn't overjoyed just to be here. While talking to a nice
if slightly inebriated english guy late in the night, I got a better insight
into what was bugging me. All of these people had come more or less directly
from home and this was all cool and different and laid back. For me here was
simliar to coming home in that it entailed responsibilites like getting a
job, somewhere to stay and (horror or horrors) cooking instead of eating
out: in short settling again. Simliar all right but not the same as it had
none of the usual advantges of a home coming such as friends, family and
familiarity. Little wonder I was down.
Soon after I arrived I replied to a guy looking for a few people to share
costs driving to Darwin, reasoning that a road trip might be just what I
needed to shake me up, and resolved to go if he would take me. I had no idea
what it would cost or how long it would take. The next day I filed for a tax
number and was told it would take 28 days - thus it would be this long at
least before I could get a legit job. The road trip to Darwin was looking
like a better and better prospect. Anyway the next day the guy replied
saying that he'd checked out my website and reckoned I was cool. Hoever the
biggest suprise was that he found a picture there of his good mate Jay (my
travelmate from Rajastan!) saying he'd been out for drinks with him just a
few weeks ago in Melbourne! This put me in a great mood for the rest of the
day. I had a trip to look forward to and stupid coincidences were
happening...defo a turn for the better!
Its not just other travellers that are friendly, the aussies are too much
more so than home I reckon. After sleeping all day I got up on the first
day/evening to get food and this old aborgine guys bids me g'day as I enter
the fast food joint, later even though we didn't really speak he offers me a
cigarette. Its really the level of casual kindness and politeness that
strikes you here. I even got to partake in a traditional "sunday session"
yesterday, it roughly translates as after a morning on the beach get slowly
wasted starting after lunch or in the early evening while you enjoy the sun
in the beer gardens - complete with barbie snags and steaks on tap. I was
brought there by Dave, who was the brother of this guy I met on a boat trip
in Phang-Nga, Thailand. On hearing I was headed there, he gave me the
brothers number and said to go for some beers - aussies are like that. I had
a great evening with him and his girlfriend and a mate recently arrived from
London(complete with nippy wheels :-). They took me to a bar at one of
Perth's many beaches, and was the first time I'd left the city - well
actaully one of the few times I left the hostel! It was very cool, sitting
in the garden with some tunes pumping, the jugs of EB(Emu Bitter) flowing
and the sun setting in the distance. It was kinda surreal in way, cause I
felt like I was in a episode of an Ozzie soap or something.
I'm not fully there yet, like I ran away from the Irish pub we went to after
two drinks and I still think the streets are really bare and there's not
enough people around and I find myself wanting soup noodles for brekkie
(after two days of cornflakes the novelty wore off) and gravitating to the
Indonesian place to eat but I think I'm slowly re-adjusting.
Aoife, Perth, Western Australia, Monday 14th February, 19:28WST.
