Homeward Bound

Just to emphasize my last point about the friendship circle that seems to exist around Susan, we were joined by another one of her group, Rhonda, at breakfast, just to come and say goodbye. There will be similar circumstances in the UK but we are not accustomed to it, certainly not around the south-east, and it has been one of the highlights of the trip to participate in such a warm support group.

Susan was able to join us at the departure gate for a final coffee. Name one major UK airport that nowadays allows non-passengers into the airside environment, even if only domestic? The little English lady terrorist was again singled out at both Melbourne and Sydney for special attention by the security staff, and is now so familiar with the test procedures for explosives residue that she is thinking of applying for a job at Gatwick or Heathrow. She made great friends with the guy at Sydney who explained the whole process very thoroughly. Panic shopping ensued at Sydney, because we had 3 hours to kill and used up 2 ½ of them before we had eventually got rid of all the cash.

It’s now midnight, Australian time, 9 p.m. in Bangkok, and 3 p.m. in England. I expect to be disturbed shortly, to have to consume some of British Airways finest finger sandwiches and lukewarm tea. Publishing this in the Qantas Lounge in Bangkok will have to take second place to the shower facility, and the rate of upload of pictures is very variable, so the final sentence may have to wait to 31 Abbotswood tomorrow. It’s been a great trip and a temptation to repeat it soon – if the big Premium Bond prize is waiting when we get home.

Unfortunately there was no £1 million cheque, only a rather stand-offish cat whose body language (absence of instant purring) conveyed clearly his annoyance at having been left to look after Elinor for all that time. He came round eventually but methinks that trust will have to be re-earned before he brings us mouse remains to share. The weather recognised our need for a gentle let-down and has been sunny and almost warm.

So here endeth the first blog according to Yrret – it’s hard work trying to keep reasonably up to date, especially when uploading isn’t available on a daily basis. I’m not sure how serious diarists do it; assigning a fixed period at a regular time must be the knack…but that assumes a consistent lifestyle and is close to work! Got that out of the system, thank you!

Winding Down

The end of a vacation is always something of an anti-climax, but we were left with no opportunity to wonder how to wile away the last 24 hours. Packing, checking out, panic shopping for the next event, travelling to drop off the rental car at the airport, having dropped the cases at Essendon, and attempted souvenir shopping at the nearby mall (only about the size of Lakeside) left us with barely enough time to attack Susan’s computer again to see if there was a cure for the dreaded incompatibility squabble between W7 and Office 2007. Heidi’s Andrew eventually scored maximum points for finding a suggestion that running the 2 programmes whilst having administrator’s rights assigned might be a cause…and so it was!...But only for Word – Excel still continues to hiccup. There was no re-installing, no downloading an update or a patch, just a buried box that had to be unticked. Software designers, bless their little cotton socks!

And yet again we were whisked off to Jan and Rob’s for the final “roast tea”. I think Jan must be one of the most amazing cooks we have ever come across, because she had turned some of the surplus barbecue steak into a huge, gorgeous pie with beautiful vegetables, followed by an apple sponge of gargantuan proportions. They are truly, homely, hospitable Aussies (fourth generation) with a sizeable local family, all of whom seem to support each other with no effort or question whatsoever. It was a privilege to have met them and been accepted, via Susan, into their circle. A little blogging when we got home to try and catch up so that it finishes near enough the same time as the trip, and then the final night sleeping upside down.

No Picnic at Hanging Rock

Daily chores out of the way we made our way up to Essendon, to meet Susan at her church charity shop, where she was busily tidying up and organising for the summer to winter stock changeover, having already taken Clodagh and Ben to the airport. She was keen that she entertained us to the maximum and had suggested one of two possible excursions, either to Hanging Rock whence came the book name, or to Philip Island, to observe the dusk arrival of penguins. We felt that either would involve lengthy car journeys and probable late returns to Brighton so we were keen to take a more leisurely approach. In the end more dog-walking was chosen and without revealing the objective of her selected destination, to avoid possible disappointment, Susan took us to a park that included a retirement home for aging racehorses. The great treat, however, was that it turned out to be the area where kangaroos came to graze as the afternoon wore on, and we were in luck. Having sighted them in the distance, we marched boldly off the path across the field (fear of snakes put aside) and approached initially quite gently to about 100 yards, and fully expected them to bound off at any instant. Far from it! One or two, once they became aware of our interest, bounded towards us, as if they were looking as though they might try to come to scare us off….until the dogs started barking and then the (insert collective noun for kangaroos) all set off together at the bounce. It was a lovely sight and a mild sensation of being on a safari in the outback, notwithstanding the A380 that had just taken off from the nearby Melbourne airport.

We then met up with Jan and Rob Maltman at Bob MacMillan’s grave, where a little gardening was conducted and the nice touch of placing one of the wedding posies to adorn the headstone. Bob was obviously a much loved husband, father and friend.

On return Susan instantly produced a pasta dish, and we left to do our packing, and to wash trousers bearing evidence of two boisterous Labradors.

Not Late For A Change

If something is worth doing it’s worth doing well, or at least twice. Tradition has it, if not throughout Australia then at least in this small community, that on the day following a wedding the stragglers re-assemble for … a barbecue! Because Clodagh and Ben were not leaving for their honeymoon (in the Maldives) until the Monday they were there too. Having got to bed rather late we struggled out of bed as early as we could manage it, breakfasted and set off to the venue, about 10 minutes further on from where the wedding was, to a house rented for the family and guests for the occasion. The invite said “11 a.m. onwards” and we had to stop to buy a “slab” (case of beer), and being Easter Sunday and near the coast, it seemed as if the whole of Melbourne was out for the day. We were never going to be on time, but our watches said 12.45 when we eventually staggered in making profuse apologies about our tardiness. People were a little surprised at our apology, as we were to find that, far from being the last, several arrived after us. Guess which day daylight saving ends in Australia? Just as well we didn’t know as we could have been a genuine hour and three-quarters late, but it’s the first time I have genuinely not adjusted our timepieces and made a big mistake with an appointment.

Much meat and salad was consumed and a feeble attempt made to walk it off, on yet another nearby archetypal sandy beach, before we meandered our way home followed by Susan to collect the Easter Eggs that had not made their intended journey that morning.

The Great Day

What does one expect of a wedding? Perfect weather, idyllic surroundings, smiling happy people, loads of genuine warmth and affection, a few happy tears, good food and drink, amusing recollections, riotous dancing, and all the other elements that go to make up a lasting memory. Every box was duly ticked. We've got used to mainly church weddings that are formally structured in content and procedure, so that the expectation of a civil procedure is that it is a fairly quick legal formality. Not so here: the celebrant was a long-standing friend who personalised the ceremony; there were some pertinent readings, though not from a religious source, one from each godmother (how did that English accent steal the show!); Very personal public statements. of love and commitment from the happy couple; the only thing missing was congregational singing, though music was provided to cover the signing of the registers by Heidi playing a solo oboe, beautifully, of Robbie Williams song, Angels.

One of the memorable highlights was when Ben and Clodagh led the evening's dancing as is seemingly expected of the bride and groom, but they turned it almost into a "Strictly ..." moment have danced a selection of ballroom steps, suddenly after a frenzy of jacket. removing launched into a hip-hop demonstration, quite brilliantly.

The couple were staying the night at the residence, and so instead of sending them off, we were all eventually turfed out, for a 50-minute drive home, where ... we collapsed into bed.

“I Actually Found It Quite Interesting!”

Good Friday was definitely the day that we wanted to keep out of the way of the wedding preparations, whilst the last minute family arrangements went on. We had little plan of what we wanted to do, other than realising that the city would be mainly “closed” because of Easter. The forecast was OK and whilst we had been in the Tourist Information Centre the previous day I had idly picked up a brochure for Australia’s “primary” Aviation Museum. It was at Moorabbin airport only 10 minutes from where we were staying and with a slight hesitancy I suggested that we could drive past on our way to the coast to see what it looked like, and so the plan was made.

From the outside it looked like a graveyard for airframe hulks, not a good indicator in my experience for what might be concealed. We parked adjacent to the other car in the car park and I said I didn’t think it would be worth the entrance fee. However, insistence was forthcoming that I should investigate, as postcards could be written whilst I indulged. Two middle-aged, gentlemen aviation enthusiasts greeted me, in the reception, and a “concession” rate was quickly allowed, so low that I purchased 2 tickets because of the invite for my wife to use the lounge facilities whilst I perused. An interesting conversation ensued about the model of the DH 88 Comet hanging in the lounge (G-ACSS for the cognoscenti) that had won the 1934 England to Australia air race. It had a tail wheel not a tailskid, which identified it as a model of the replica, not the original, but at least the two guys knew of it as belonging to the Shuttleworth collection – small world.

The museum itself was a delightful example of aviation enthusiasm, but had the one piece that had originally caught my attention, a mostly intact Bristol Beaufighter. There were lots of snippets of Australian aviation history, and full value for money was obtained for both of us. I explained the differences between some of the aero engines on display and pointed out interesting features on a few of the aircraft, expecting a barely stifled yawn, but later the following day, when recounting to the locals what we had done whilst not under supervision, you could have knocked me down with a feather when the words: “I actually found it quite interesting” were uttered. RAF Museum, Science Museum, and Imperial War Museum here we come!

We went on for a beach picnic, came across the national sandcastle sculpture competition, and cruised gently home seeking Friday’s fish and chip shop, which turned out to be a mere 200 yards from the apartment. Everything was freshly cooked as we waited and as usual included chips to feed an army. I may eventually learn to leave food, but only when I grow up! Strangely, we didn’t have to collapse into bed that evening.

If You Can’t Beat ‘Em, Join ‘Em

By Thursday we were desperate to see some of the city sights of Melbourne, and so we opted to catch the train into town, firstly to re-visit Victoria Market, to have a longer look at all the wonderful produce and other shopping opportunities, and then to pick up on a little of the riverbank scene. Although we bought wraps at one of the delicatessen stalls we couldn’t resist another Borek, the hot Turkish pastry wraps.

There is a free circular tram route that tours the inner city and gives a commentary of the nearby places of interest as it nears each stop. It is very popular (because it’s free?) and we crammed in for half a circuit until we got back to the railway station where we got out to go on a walk by the river. We were just getting ourselves armed with information in the Tourist Information Centre, and were thinking of letting Susan know what we were up to, when the phone rang and supper was offered, to help with the disposal of the previous evening’s leftovers, and our, as yet, uneaten lunch selection would provide some variety for the menu. Refusal was not an option, but the follow-on invite to join the Maundy service at church would have left us with another very late finish.

Then two close shaves ensued! We hadn’t been long at Susan’s, after the tram ride from the city to the end of her road, just about 6 p.m. when conversation turned to what each had been doing all day. It was the trigger to remind Susan that Heidi’s dress had not been collected from the dry cleaners; and that the following day was Good Friday; and the family were decamping down south to the wedding venue; and the dry cleaners close at 6 p.m. Only the squeal of tyres hid the stream of expletives as she shot off, leaving us to contemplate the switching on of her computer to check for emails. It was fairly dark in the little computer area, and in an effort to make room for me to assist with the initial power up, the little English lady terrorist stepped slightly backwards and to one side…and almost disappeared through a hole in the floor! Susan had removed the cover to the shallow wine cellar and it was very fortunate that more injury did not occur. A triple of bruises to her back, on top of the shock of the bottom dropping out of her world, was the extent but it could have been so much worse. Where are the Health and Safety people when they are most needed? Susan returned soon after, with dress, having, armed only with a $20 note, ambushed the manager of the dry cleaners as he was trying to escape by car and forced him to re-open. Someone was obviously smiling down on us, although prepared to fire warning shots across our bows. Supper over, Susan dropped us at the tram stop outside her church and we made our way home via tram and train, despite the best efforts of the railway management to hide the whereabouts of the required platform by ceasing to provide signs before the platform was in sight. We got home, one of us battered and bruised….and collapsed into bed.

Route Version 17 from Brighton to Essendon

Wednesday morning dawned with the prospect of another battle with the Melbourne traffic, from south to north and later the reverse. It feels as if Melbourne has the highest density of traffic-light-controlled junctions in the world. On top of that it has a fairly extensive tram network that co-exists and mainly shares the same road space as cars. Trams have priorities in most conflicts, and tram stops are often in the centre of the road with no pedestrian island for passengers to alight on to. Thus the trams put on their flashing lights, extend a small STOP flag, and cars must not overtake to allow passengers to alight and walk safely and directly to the kerb. It doesn’t half concentrate the mind when near a tram, and the final straw is a procedure called a “Hook Turn”. Where the tramlines run down the centre of the road, a car wishing to turn right must not do so in front of a tram. Instead the car must position itself on the most left-hand lane, indicate to turn right, wait until the lights turn red, and those in the road into which it is turning go green, before proceeding. Traffic going straight on drives through in the right lane overtaking the vehicle indicating to turn right – it feels a very uncomfortable sandwich and a recipe for a side-swipe. Thus we have looked for routes that avoid tram routes as much as possible, but the grid layout means that traffic lights are almost invariable in number irrespective of route chosen. Oh, and of course, there are the toll roads to be avoided!

To steal ourselves for the battle we took a late morning stroll by the sea at the end of the street where we are staying. Quite a change from the surf to hear the bay waters making a gentle musical lapping against the shore wall…and it was warm and sunny, again. We worked our way by car northwards up the shore line and then took a deep breath before plunging into the maelstrom. When we got to Susan’s it was dog-walking time and a car ride to a parkland where we enjoyed views over Melbourne and being sprayed by a joyous Labrador who was permitted to go swimming for the first time in ages.

The evening was a “cellar party” given by Clodagh’s other godmother, Jan, who put on a spread to end all diets! She is renowned for her cooking, a reputation well-earned, especially the huge selection of desserts, some of which have graced our fridge (in diminishing amounts!) ever since. We followed Susan to their house and had little idea about which part of Melbourne we were in. The return journey was, therefore, an interesting debate between the TomTom and the recommended route from the locals. In the main we took the advice of the locals and had the fastest, smoothest passage home so far. Of course it was already pretty late when we got home….where we collapsed into bed!

Sovereign Hill Gold Town at Ballarat

It was an early start on Tuesday to get to Susan’s, in order to make the trip (about an hour and a half) to Ballarat, where there is a recreation of an 1860’s gold town. Heidi and Andrew had arrived the evening before, after we had left to come home, and were remarkably bright. We all piled into Alastair’s car (it’s a long and complicated explanation but easy when insurance covers anyone to drive with the owner’s permission) and drove into the hills. If you can imagine taking out all the schmaltz that Walt Disney would put into a theme park, and having working craftsmen, using tools of the era, with steam-engine-powered, belt-driven lathes and pumps, shops selling home-cooking style pies and pastries, boiled sweets being made, and horse-drawn carriages riding up and down the sandy streets in between the wooden boardwalks leading to old-fashioned schoolhouses and residences, then you are beginning to get a flavour of how great a place it is to learn about the Gold Rush. We took a trip down into the old workings of a mine, but still operational in other parts of the town, and reluctantly dragged ourselves away, only because we had to get to Clodagh and Ben’s (late, of course) for a barbecue. If Clodagh decides against the marriage at the last minute, Ben can come back and cook for us – I must learn his skill of not charring meat on the outside whilst leaving it raw in the centre. Apparently, he does much of the cooking and with food like that, why not? We had to go back to Susan’s to collect our car and had one of our more efficient return journeys, where eventually….we collapsed into bed.

Using Coriolis Effect to Cure a Slice

Monday saw us crawl out of bed at our usual holiday hour, just in time to have breakfast and then set out for our first attempt to get across Melbourne without being seduced inadvertently on to one of the toll roads. The road map that came with the car was a standard single sheet with too small an area on one side and too large a scale on the other. Susan has lent us a book map, which has all the appearance of a 500-page telephone directory, and is absolutely comprehensive in street detail. Trouble is that it is almost too large a scale and there is no overlap between pages. Because of this, poor Mum has great difficulty in keeping up with the plan that the TomTom has, and if I miss a turn then she has finding the right page, before the next recovery junction is manic. Never mind, we’ve kissed and made up again!

Expecting a leisurely afternoon and polite evening conversation, I had not dressed entirely appropriately for the next event. Susan was going to whisk Mum around on the various pre-wedding and weekly errands, whilst Alastair was to take me to play golf! Nil desperandum – I have nearly the same size feet as Alastair, and Susan had already bought me from her charity shop a cotton Aussie-style brim hat, so there was nothing holding us back. Susan’s clubs fitted me OK – she now thinks they must be too long for her – and we enjoyed 18 holes at Yarra Park Public Course; very pretty, lovely birdlife, and only $20 for 18 holes. Who needs to be a member of a club here at those prices? Alastair did say that membership at some clubs was about $3-400….sigh!

Now, in the northern hemisphere a thing called the Coriolis Effect causes winds to veer to the right when blowing from high to low pressure (and for water to go down the plughole clockwise). In the southern hemisphere the opposite happens. If you have a tendency to slice golf shots, then does Coriolis make it worse in the northern hemisphere and better in the southern? Answer: probably…but the evidence of my first 6 drives, with alien clubs, all bisecting the fairway, did not disprove the thesis. Once I had managed to get back to old habits of making too steep a swing and hitting the ball just near passing aircraft Alastair started to forgive me for initially looking too much like a professional, although the birdie at the 14^th and driving the green at the 175 yard 17^th had him looking askance at me again. I hadn’t anticipated playing golf whilst we were away, and it was a welcome event to be able to go home and tell The Boys about.

Of course, we were late back and dinner was being held up because of us. Vicar and wife were irreverent (is that an oxymoron?) and great fun, but with the late start all thoughts of worshipping Bill Gates went out of the window. Just hope that there is time to make another assault before we leave. We have managed to change our flights from Melbourne to Sydney to Wednesday 7^th, and so we shall stay the last night with Susan instead of having to find somewhere in Sydney. Evetually, we left and found our way home…where we collapsed into bed!

The Fun Police Haven’t Got Here Yet!

The brief for Sunday was that we would meet The Gang in Melbourne for a look-around. We are only 5 minutes walk from the local station and the cost of an all-day fare, using any of the bus, tram or train options was cheaper than the cost of parking and petrol. We set out about 11 o’clock and walked down the local main street consisting of restaurants of several different cuisines, a few boutiques and the usual assortment of high street essentials. The one that caught the eye, however, was the toy shop called “Golliwogs Toy Store”. I wonder if the BBC could send Carol Thatcher to do an interview with the owners on “The Dangers of Unintended Racism”!

The journey is about 30 minutes and the arrival station is Flinders Street, which outside the main entrance has a series of clocks showing the time at various venues. Meetings in Melbourne have to be “on the steps at Flinders Street”, which is under the clocks and is the iconic equivalent of “under the clock at Waterloo”. A lot of people meet a lot of other people in Melbourne because it was hard to actually get out of the station for the bodies adorning the steps. Not unexpectedly the first words from Susan were: “There’s been a slight change of plan” and we were whisked on to a tram to go to the other side of the city centre to Queen Victoria Market. Oh, M & S, Waitrose, Tesco, Sainsburys, ASDA, Morrisons, Aldi, Lidl, and any other supermarket, you don’t know how lucky you are not to have competition like this. There are superb delicatessens, masses of fresh meat and fish stalls, fresh fruit and veg by the tonne (metric), clothes stalls, ethnic barbecues, and UGG boots by the foot (non-metric), and many other sorts of goods. Lunch was had, on the pavement but with tables and chairs provided, from a couple of the highly recommended fast food stalls, one serving Turkish hot pastry wraps called Boreks and the other the best tasting Bratwurst (with all the works) that I can recall. Normally one tends to shy away from such places because they come with free salmonella and e-coli, but there were no ailing birds or dogs in the vicinity so no worries!

Shopping complete, it was back to Susan’s for tea, watch the F1 Grand Prix, church for the ladies whilst I tried without complete success to troubleshoot Susan’s new computer, despite on-line advice from the UK. Although yet to be confirmed, it appeared that there was an incompatibility between the new operating system (Windows 7) and the older Microsoft Office 2007. However, without the installation discs the solution was going to require divine intervention i.e. the vicar had to be invited for “roast tea” (Australian for supper) the following day…and to bring his discs! Finally, following a lift from Susan to Flinders Street station, back home by train, where we collapsed into bed.

A Whole Different Holiday!

From early afternoon on Saturday 27^th the pace of the trip suddenly changed. We have chugged gently along for the last 2 weeks, doing our own thing, no schedule to meet, no others to have to co-ordinate with… until we arrived at Melbourne.

The transition was relatively smooth. The shuttle bus picked us up on time, crammed itself full with about $1100 of passengers, and we got to the airport in good time. Check-in was straightforward apart from the slightly officious Qantas lady who insisted that we went to the section for everyone, despite the fact that we told her we only needed a bag drop. She totally negated the effort we had made to do an on-line check-in, and the only saving grace was that we hadn’t spent money on getting internet access! We went into security and as usual I saw the burly security guard pick on this small English lady terrorist and started rummaging through her rucksack. But this time he had caught his fish! In an effort to minimise weight in the checked baggage Mum had put Alistair’s little gift in her hand luggage. Not a problem apart from the miniature Stanley knife amongst all the other tools! Disaster loomed; you could hear the cocking of weapons in the firing squad…except that the guard was more than helpful. Obviously the confiscation option was present, but he suggested that Mum went back and checked in her small rucksack, and escorted her back to groundside to go to Qantas check-in. He came back to me and said that his concern was that the airline might charge her a hefty additional fee, more than the value of the package, but absolutely no problem and the drama didn’t end in a crisis. How nice to find pragmatism in airport security staff…yes, I did just say that! Of course, on her second transit through security the small English lady terrorist was taken aside by another staff member to make sure there was no explosive residue in her bag!

Arrival at Melbourne was prompt; bags, including the infamous feather-light Camelback rucksack that we thought might evaporate, appeared, and the MacMillan tribe arrived from all corners of the airport. Mum was whisked away by Susan and Clodagh to go to the final wedding dress fitting, and on to tea with the other godmother, whilst Alistair and Ben (Clodagh’s fiancé) accompanied me to collect the hire car (not a single mark on it!), a Nissan Tiilda, not a misprint, that’s what it says on the back, and then to Susan’s house to meet the 2 boisterous, but lovely, labradors. A quick cup of tea and then a short walk, for a “pot” in a pub, to watch some Aussie Rules Footie, a quick shop for provisions, though Susan had prepared a Britfam box for us, and a reunion with the ladies back at Susan’s.

Time was moving on and Susan had prepared a meal for us all, but I thought it best to check with the accommodation what time we had to check-in. It closed at 7 p.m! Gulp! We were a good 45 minutes away…even if our route were not to take us through the traffic and road closures created by the final practice for the Melbourne Grand Prix! Plan B swiftly moved into effect; all food, additional crockery and cutlery were piled into the car, Susan came with us to guide through the backstreets. Ben and Clodagh went for more supplies in their car…and the arrival time on the TomTom slowly ticked up from 18.55 to 19.03. With about 15 minutes to go a desperate further phone call to the reception to ask them to hang on a couple of minutes, and we made it in the nick of time. Vouchers, keys and cards were exchanged and we settled in. No time for unpacking – straight into the business of food preparation and we all sat down to supper and loads of raucous chat and laughter. There aren’t many others staying here – I hope it’s not our fault. The Macmillans left, we unpacked and collapsed.

Panic Tourism

With so many options for tourists in Sydney, it was hard to know where to go and what to do with our last day. Eventually we ended up at the Museum of Sydney, where again we were trapped by the fascination of learning about how the early settlers arrived, and the politicking of the early rulers of the area. Just like the political battles of will of today, it is difficult to decide who were the “good” guys and were acting with the best intentions, and who were the “bad” guys and were only motivated by selfish and greedy desires. We had already half planned to take a long ferry trip up-river to see a bit more of the surrounding landscape, but there in the museum was explanation of how Parramatta fitted into the governorship of the early province. It was enough of a temptation that we slipped out of the museum, down to Circular Quays, more coffee and sandwiches and then caught the ferry to Parramatta. The journey was 55 minutes and left us with one hour’s walking around the historic sights, and a rather nice genteel town, before catching the return ferries, first to Circular Quays, and then to Darling Harbour. We were going to treat ourselves to a last night out, but all the restaurants were heaving, and there was still the packing to do, so the Friday night tradition was continued and we picked up fish and chips and collapsed back at the apartment.

I’m not sure what the right length of time is to spend in the Sydney area. If you want the beach and sunbathing then you can select from any number of resorts. If you want the sights, zoos, aquariums, etc then there is at least enough to keep you going for a week. If culture and history grab you then you can be absorbed for another week, but the bottom line is that Sydney is a great place to visit for a holiday, and with weather that generally leaves you with the choice rather than making up your mind for you.

The Eastern Suburbs and Illawara Line, and the 333 Bus

All cities have areas that do not promote an aura desirable to attract tourists. Often you have to transit them to reach the iconic sights. We went to Bondi Beach today, outbound by train to Bondi Junction and then the 333 bus to Campbell Parade, which is the road that lines the beach, and returned all the way on the 333 bus to Circular Quays. The train ride was mainly underground, but in a perfectly acceptable if somewhat charmless but functional carriage. The bus journey was through a built-up area, both in Bondi and on the return through the eastern suburbs of Sydney, reminiscent of a cross between Leyton High Road and Putney High Street….unless they’ve both improved immensely since I was last there. Bondi Beach itself did not generate the breathtaking effect that all the hype would have suggested. It is a very nice bay, with a wide sandy beach and some nice-looking surf, but somewhere its history of sudden and fatal seas has given it a reputation greater than its actual attraction as a resort. Manly had areas of much greater attractiveness for me. The height of sophistication was a seafood bar, advertising in hand lettering:: "World Famous Deep Fried Mars Bar" - obviously some cultures travel better than others!

We walked to both ends of the bay, seeking any other reason for the reputation, and found 2 adjacent bays to the south, Tamarama and Bronte. The latter had a lovely couple of more sheltered bathing areas that we made use of, and though we can’t claim to have swum at the actual Bondi Beach, we were close enough and able to enjoy swimming rather than just being buffeted by the breakers.

Before catching the ferry back from Circular Quays to Darling Harbour we had a beer, where the young English barman (from Cambridge) seized quickly on our accents. He had been here for 7 months and was about to go travelling up the east coast via Cairns to Darwin, and then to drive to Perth. Good luck to him – the TomTom says it’s about 6000 miles.

Culture (no yoghourt involved!)

Today the weather dawned a bit uncertain with a bit of overcast, although the forecast was for an absence of rain. However, rather than head for the seaside again and be disappointed, we opted to do some of the city sights. First we ascended the Sydney Tower for a spot of high-level goofing, having been required to hand over my 2 penknives, presumably in case vertigo caused me to suffer a frenzy of pencil sharpening! It was well worthwhile, to be able to orientate all of the significant landmarks… and take some more pictures of the bridge and the Opera House. Part of the deal was to experience Oztrek, a cinematic simulator ride enjoying the sights of Sydney, Australia and its heritage (my words not theirs!). Walt Disney, MGM, Warner Bros, Alton Towers, Thorpe Park, Chessington…..don’t close down because of this competition! Of all the entertainments we have…and had in the past…expended money on, this was the least value, even if it had been free. Fortunately the Tower visit had been good value on its own, but the shabby vibrating seats, dim poor resolution forward screen, the blank right hand screen, and the naff cinematography gave a very poor impression. There is a lot of renovation work going on in and around the Tower at the moment, but they would have done better to reduce the price and close the “experience”. There, I feel better now!

Next we headed for the Hyde Park Barracks, which had been a reception point for some of the transported convicts between 1818 and 1848, and then transformed into a district court (same sort of thing as our County Courts) until 1978. Given the large scale of most buildings here, the size of the offices used was very small, and more reminiscent of a UK heritage than other places we see around.

A brief detour into St Mary’s Cathedral (Catholic) was fascinating, and educational. It was finished only in 1928, constructed in what looked like a pale red sandstone, though the fittings of some of the stained glass windows were given dates nearly 40 years earlier. Although the interior of Guildford Cathedral is very beautiful, it somehow never seems right to have used brick, because a stone exterior creates a much greater impression of grandeur. All of the statues were cloaked in purple cloth, explained as being because of Lent. We’ve never come across this practice in the UK, but it may be our ignorance, and a pity not to see all of the interior beauty, which otherwise was magnificent.

Rattling on we went to The Australian Museum, which as with all museum visits, didn’t leave enough time to take in all of the splendid exhibits. There seemed to be examples of the skeletal structure of all the indigenous mammals, stuffed birds of every single variety, pinned insects of every nasty form, all the marsupials and monotremes (look it up!), dinosaur models, and the most comprehensive display of rocks, crystals, minerals, and gems to make a budding geologist drool….and then we had to leave as it was closing time.

We meandered our way home via Chinatown, not very noteworthy, a mall purporting to offer designer outlet shops – no temptation at the current exchange rate, even if we had found any “designer names” that we recognised – and Queen Victoria Building – a beautiful old structure housing a mall with shops that don’t display prices (if you have to ask you can’t afford it). And there are still more places to visit….

Manly (the place, not posturing!)

After ascertaining that the weather was going to be kind (why wouldn’t it be?) we walked via the Post Office, where we took out a second mortgage on stamps for postcards, to the library to use the internet. Downloading on free access is perfectly acceptable, but it seems that uploading is severely limited, because trying to put photos on the blog is incredibly frustrating, especially if you make a mistake and have to repeat an action. I had lots more prepared for posting but only managed to add 2 posts before it became too frustrating to stay indoors rather than sightseeing.

We eventually reached Circular Quays and caught the ferry to Manly, about a 35 minute ride, past the Bridge and the Opera House of course. We had contemplated returning to see if there were any tickets, at our price, available for an opera, but once we had got to Manly there was no more thought of it as we took a dip in the sea and had a long walk past some of Manly’s heritage sights.

Sydney is very fortunate to have so many places where beach activities are possible, and none of them seem particularly crowded, though we are midweek. Everywhere has a sandy beach and the only restraint on the type of bathing is whether there is a surf effect. Where we went in it was pretty light but even then it is difficult to take a prolonged swim because of the breakers, and the power in them followed by the undertow makes one realise how strong real surf is. I admit to being briefly tempted by the thought of wanting a small board just to try out surfing, but only briefly.

Beer and chips followed before the ferry ride back, and the first use of the train system rather than waiting an hour for the next ferry. Getting full value of our TravelPass is essential and we haven’t been to Bondi yet, which has to done by train and bus.

On The Rocks

Just across the other side of Darling Harbour is a display of a submarine, a gun-armed destroyer, a corvette and a full-size replica of Captain Cook’s Endeavour, as well as a three-masted tall ship. These are all associated with the Maritime Museum, and being so close we couldn’t resist what we thought would be a “quick peek”. However, any museum of worth must be designed that visitors are sucked in to spending more time than anticipated with the fascination of their information and displays. No difference here for the history of exploration of New Holland/Australia, as well as the history of The Navy and the use of the sea by Australians. The most iconic exhibit? A small boat made entirely out of empty beer cans stuck together with tape, apparently sea-worthy, built for the annual Darwin Beer Can Regatta.

After a quick “lunch” in the apartment we went to an area called “The Rocks”, a part of Sydney which is where many of the oldest buildings remain. Although turned bijou for the tourists, it is still very interesting not to mention the fact that it has a high point on which an observatory was built. From here there are great views to the east and west, and of course the Bridge and Opera House. Finally there was the mandatory ferry ride home from Circular Quays, all still in the lovely mild darkness.

Sydney Sightseeing

There are 2 iconic sights in Sydney, the Opera House and Harbour Bridge, but this has done a disservice to many of the other places that are attractive to visit. We started Sunday morning by heading towards the ANZAC museum, and found our way barred by a St Patrick’s Day parade. It seems that wherever you go in the world there is an Irish Pub, and if you hit the week of St Patrick’s Day the Irish expect the whole world to stop for them. Eventually we found a way through via the underground of the Town Hall station, stopping to buy our TravelPasses which gives us access to all the government operated trains, buses and ferries for the week. The ANZAC memorial was interesting and rather beautiful, and we meandered through Hyde Park past St Mary’s Cathedral, several historic buildings and museums into the Botanical Gardens. Here there was an enormous din coming from the trees above, which proved to be territorial squabbles amongst the vast flocks of fruit bats. The shape of their flight is very like rooks or crows, apart from the fact they have a claw protruding from the leading edge of the wing, and when they get close enough you can see that their wings are membranes and not feather-covered.

Eventually we got to our first view of the Opera House, and after several attempts to get photos of each other with the icon in the background (it’s very difficult in bright sunlight without a viewfinder!) we arrived to find the end of a Greek gathering. My major impression was that the covering of the Opera House was less white and more creamy than I expected, but nonetheless very impressive. We are tempted to go to the opera whilst here but have yet decided.

The Harbour Bridge is….a bridge! I’m not sure why it is so feted other than the connection that it provides with the north shore. We eventually caught the ferry to sail under the bridge back to the wharf just outside the apartment, and collapsed before setting about a plan for the rest of the week.

A Tip for Car Rental Companies

When we came to return the car in Auckland the company had thoughtfully pointed out that there was a filling station adjacent so that we could make sure it was full on handover. Now Brisbane has 2 terminals, an international and a domestic one, about the same distance apart as Gatwick North and South. We checked that there was a return site at the domestic terminal, as we had picked it up from the international one, and although we fully intended to top up the tank before getting to the airport, suddenly found that there were no filling stations in sight on the motorway for the last 40 km. not to worry, we had checked in, had a good half an hour in hand and there was bound to be somewhere nearby at the airport. The recently-opened (earlier this year) new access route to the airport whisked us straight into the car rental return area, with not a sign of fuel anywhere. So we were left with the dilemma of paying over the odds for the company to do the job for us, with a hefty admin fee, or to retrace our tracks. A quick enquiry revealed that there was a filing station at the airport, at the international terminal on the old road into the airport. Why was it so difficult for the person at the rental desk, when we collected the car, not to have on her checklist for briefing customers where fuel was available? Especially in this case that there was a lack of filling stations on the motorways, and the new access bypassed the only one in the vicinity. Good job we had plenty of time to spare as the old blood pressure could easily have got up to wrath-venting level!

It was an uneventful passage thereafter, despite trepidations about our cases being 3 inches over the maximum stipulated dimensions (you have to add the 3 linear dimensions together, length, width and depth, and not exceed some arbitrary figure, for domestic flights 54 inches). I’d love to meet the “brain” that thought up this method because it doesn’t limit the volume in any practical way – see my Excel spreadsheet (not attached!). There is a reasonable weight limit, but if I can find the density of steel (next time I can get free internet access), I’d like to work out the weight of a 1 inch square steel bar 52 inches long – an interesting debate for not incurring charges for checked baggage.

The various transfer methods from Sydney airport to the city had exercised our investigative skills, and in the end I think we selected the best option. Pulling a carry-on style suitcase over a reasonable distance is straightforward, but the instabilities of a 23kg, 57-inch total linear dimension Delsey case, with only 6 ½ inches between the wheels, would have been too much for the third of a mile from the nearest railway station, certainly up the incline on the return. Thus the shuttle bus that serves all the downtown hotels seemed to do the job, and so it proved.

Apart from internet access being even more expensive than on the Gold Coast (we’ve already found the free library!) the Medina Grand Harbourside is brilliant. The studio room has 2 large TVs, full kitchen facilities (oven, hob and microwave), dishwasher, washing machine and tumble dryer. It’s so good that we need hardly go out, except…50 yards across the road is Darling Harbour, which after we’d done the supermarket shop just 300 yards up the hill, provided the most spectacular dusk scenery and being a Saturday evening had much of the local and tourist population out in their finery. We saw at least 3 hen parties, and loads of luxury cruisers setting out for dinner cruises.

Anyone for Swimming?

Being in a routine has one huge advantage – knowing where and when you can do your next laundry! Not being 100% sure what we were going to find in our apartment in Sydney, with respect to laundry facilities, meant that we wanted to be certain that we not caught out when returning Friday evening because someone else had commandeered the washing machine and tumble dryer. So the morning was in part dedicated to chores. Next was the need to avoid potential huge queues at the airport again, if we hadn’t done an online check-in. So off to the Gold Coast Public Library in Burleigh Waters, that we had ascertained the previous day had free internet access, to do the business. We were also able to do emails, update the blog, check the football scores and find out what the exchange rate was doing to decide whether to use cash or card!

And then we just had to find somewhere to go swimming! Now, that may sound relatively easy given the size of the coastline, but there appears to be only 2 grades of sea water available – b****y great surf or too-shallow-for-swimming calm waters. We tried 3 places with the above results and in the end, with a promise to ourselves that we are going in on Bondi Beach … whatever …we battled (it would be rush hour, wouldn’t it) back to the pool at the hotel for half an hour’s dusk swimming with exclusive use of the rather nice outdoor pool, just at the stage when it was becoming warmer in than out.

A fish and chip carry-out ensued (getting to be a Friday night tradition) because there are apparently no late-night supermarkets here (good for them!), where you can pick up a late salad, followed by packing and angst about how much time to leave for the morning’s journey to the airport.

Plat-billed Duckypuses, Rod Hull’s Chum and 3D

Thursday 18^th took a while to get going after the previous day’s excursion. General pfaffing in the morning, looking for non-existent pitch and putt courses, locating cinemas, libraries with internet availability (free!!), and supper shopping left us with an afternoon to spend in a small wildlife sanctuary (David Fleay’s Wildlife Park – look him up if you like), where we wanted to see more of the indigenous (or is it endemic?) fauna. Again the nocturnal habit of the duck-billed platypus, and the prohibition on use of flash photography, has left us with only blurred records of these funny little creatures, but at least we got to see them swimming like small otters in their tank. The breeding and release of them into the wild to try and sustain the species is one of the aims of the sanctuary. By the time we got into our tour, about mid-afternoon, there appeared to be hardly any other visitors and we had seemingly exclusive access to the keepers, who were delighted to chat about their charges. One girl spotted something on the back of one of the crocodiles, which we thought was just a large leaf, but promptly marched into the pen for a closer look. These were freshwater crocodiles that only grow up to about 7 or 8 ft long and have a much more pointed snout than the estuarine crocs, the males of which grow to about 5 metres. I doubt she would have rushed in quite so quickly if it had been an object on the back of the latter!

There were 2 large flightless birds, the emu and the cassowary. I guess that Rod Hull preferred the name “Emu” to “Cassowary”, because the latter had a far more interesting plumage (black with a blue and red head) and appeared much more lively and interactive than the emu. Just goes to show that marketing is all about having the right name. There were many types of marsupials, mostly with endearing faces that looked as if they would make friendly pets, and a tree-dwelling kangaroo! No, look it up if you don’t believe it! The koala seemed totally bored with life until the keeper whacked it with a eucalyptus branch she was putting in for its supper, and then it moved much quicker than in any films I’ve ever seen. She had previously chatted to us about the pair of dingoes, which although they are related to wolves not dogs, looked very affable and pet-like. She was obviously very attached to them and said that they were a pair of “big softies”. Probably would be until 28 more of their chums appeared, and then it might be a different story. Just like in New Zealand it was great to see these creatures in their own country, and in a reasonably un-zoo-like environment.

For the evening we treated ourselves to the 3D version of Avatar. No cheaper than in the UK, in fact probably more expensive but very comfortable cinema seats and a very empty cinema. We have to admit to being impressed by the 3D special effects, but don’t ask us to explain the plot – was the ending the same “alternative body experience” that that episode of Star Trek concerning the crippled former Enterprise Captain wanted? Answers in an email or a text please!

We had our last encounter with Australian wildlife when we got home from the cinema. I’m still not sure that Mum is convinced that I wasn’t imagining it, but as I was ferreting (good choice of word!) for something in the wardrobe a furry brown streak followed closely by a long-tail scampered along the base of the cupboard, turned the corner under a plastic bag and disappeared I know not where. The next day when Mum reported it, she was told that we were, of course, in the bush and you can’t get rid of all the animals. Another episode of Fawlty Towers for Australian TV titled “The Whingeing Poms”?