Alice Springs

 

A loud announcement woke me in my seat after a surprisingly good sleep. It was followed by Belinda Carlisle's Heaven is a Place on Earth. Wow, what a great and inspired way to wake up and start the day! Immediately I felt happy and eager to go. I decided that when I inevitably get back to the nine to god knows when grind, I will invest in a alarm device with the ability to play Belinda Carlisle to make my day infinitely better.

An hour or so later, I pulled into Alice, and after waiting an age for our bags (in the rain,goddamnit) we piled into the Annie's Place transfer bus. That particular hostel was recommended to me by a girl who had travelled in Australia that I knew through one of my friends back home. It was a good call as well; we dropped our stuff in a colourful, clean room and chipped out to meet Alice.

Alice Springs was surprisingly spacious in volume, albeit with a definite smalltown feel. To give you an idea, it had roughly the same population as my friend hometown of Mersing about 25,000 populations. I can’t think of a small town but correct me if I’m wrong with the number. I pretty suck when comes to number.The only reason it appears on maps is that it's the only thing of any size in the whole of central Australia worth labelling!

The slightly crap mall did, however, finally give me the chance to buy an Aussie hat (and no, it didn't have corks dangling from it - but they did sell such hats, and an American woman actually bought one whilst I was in the shop... tourists, eh?). Ever since my first day in Noosa, I had been eyeing up the suede hats, but I could never find the style I liked in a size that would fit my egg-shaped bone. But that evening, I walked home proudly sporting a genuine Aussie-made bush hat.

My driving hadn't scared Dave (another backpacker from England I met in Sydney) away, and he was happy to travel with me again along with a Japanese traveller friend of his called Misato

He'd arranged to meet up with on The Ghan. The three of us were planning to head out into Australia's red centre to visit a big rock in the middle of nowhere. Those with dodgier knees reading this may know it as Ayer's Rock. Nowadays (and rightly so), it is referred to by its Aboriginal name it held for tens of thousands of years: Uluru.

Dave had spotted a great deal outside his hostel. To hire a car with all camping and cooking equipment included was only AU$110 a day: pennies between three. Snapping it up, within half an hour a car arrived, stocked to the nines with gear, delivered by the company owner, the larger-than-life Rosco. After a spot of shopping for more varieties of mustard, we were soon speeding away from civilisation and into the dry desert of central Australia. I continued to be blown away by the fact you can drive for an hour and encounter nothing. I put it down to coming from Malaysia, where we live on top of each other in comparison.

Uluru was nearly five hours away.

We got all excited when we saw a solitary rock formation spring up out of nowhere on the left. At first we thought it might be Uluru, but on closer examination of the map, it turned out to be the flat-topped mesa of Mount Connor. Impressive all the same, it looked as if it had been plucked right out of Arizona.

When Uluru did finally snake into view, it was an exhilarating sight. Slunk low and wide on the horizon, it darted elusively in and out of view as the road meandered left and right.

As the sun was getting low, we set out straight for the rock, pulling into the sunset viewing area and straight into a parking space. The rock was initially a bright orange (a shade I can only accurately describe as "Dale Winton"), but as the earth turned and left the sun behind, it changed to a deep, fiery red before fading to grey.

We lingered for a while in case it changed colour again - I was holding out for green with pink spots - but with the light fading, we raced to our campsite in the nearby resort of Yulara.

Unloading the car, we broke out our beds for the night: nothing less than four swags (as in. We set up the table and chairs, cracked open the wine and cooked dinner - rice and meat - no crisp sandwiches tonight, thank you very much! I was so snug, warm and content that night, and slept soundly with not a single multi-legged invader to disturb me. I did wake up once though, and I had to pinch myself to check it wasn't all a dream as I grinned and peered up at a blanket of stars somewhere near the red centre of Australia.

One might ask why a human would drive five hours into the Big Nothing to visit a Remarkable Pebble. The answer is because Uluru is breathtaking. A better question one might ask to study human nature is why, once here, tourists climb the rock, despite it being a sacred site to Aborigines and there being copious signs in all manner of languages stating how disrespectful it is to their culture for people to climb.

My name is Beach, Bondi Beach

 

King's Cross, where we were staying, was an odd area. As I previously mentioned, it had a cluster of backpacker-oriented places as well as a strip of, er, strip clubs. Then just a road away it had some posh bars and restaurants. Very odd. Still, it was conveniently located; we took the train two stops in the opposite direction this morning to arrive at Bondi junction, and took a connecting bus down to the world famous Bondi Beach.

Bondi was surprisingly pleasant. I was expecting it to be packed with bronzed posers with attitude, but the vibe was relaxed and unpretentious. The bay was too developed for my liking, with houses and high rises hugging its curve, but having such an undeniably clean and lovely beach so close to the centre must be a real draw for Sydney siders.

A very good friend told me once that I should try surfing and when I arrived to Bondi I quickly look for a surf shop and I picked up a course. Such an enjoyment I couldn’t believe I’m actually doing it in that freaking freeze cold water which was 19C. Soon after that 3 hours surfing the horizon I headed for some sun-tan. You need sunblock here!!!! I got myself badly burned which is not a very smart choice.

Over some fish 'n' chips and an ice cream/ gelato I back in the centre, I spotted a Krispy Kreme Donut store. Noriko (another backpacker I met along the way) had been told to mercilessly hunt one of these down by one of her friends, as apparently they made the best doughnuts ever. So we performed a taste test on a nearby park bench. Results: good, but not mindblowing. Further research has revealed that we tried the wrong doughnut: their masterpiece is apparently the original glazed.

The time had come for Noriko and I to part company this year. We'd travelled together for over 2 days, and had a great laugh doing so. We vowed to stay in touch, and both bitten by the travelbug, we promised to look for opportunities to travel together again in the future.

Next : I meeting Alice in Springs!!!

Stanly

Harbouring Criminals

Sydney, Australia
Have you ever woken up to discover that everyone else in the world has gone completely and utterly insane?

Well, I had one of those days today. I went for brekkie in Joe's Cafe close to the hostel. A pompous woman inside was busy being over the top and completely insane about everything. Even the old man who worked there, presumably Joe, seemed a bit half-baked (a bit like the breakfast he served).

The time had come to do n our sun-visors, socks with sandals, pull my belt up right under my arms and hang my camera round my neck. Tourist Time!

As the train pulled into Circular Quay, the doors opened to a large window showing the Harbour Bridge and Opera House beyond. Both sporting manic grins as I headed down the steps and into the melee.

 
As with Angkor Wat, I'd built the Opera House up in my mind to be a towering structure, so it seemed a bit smaller than I'd expected. But there was no being disappointed by its heavenly design and its premium position on the gorgeous natural harbour across from That Bridge What Had Fireworks On It Once or Twice?

Some of the tourist companies were asking an arm, leg and a didgeridoo for a harbour cruise, so penny-pinching me suggested me simply use my day ticket for a free ferry ride across to North Sydney on the other side.

I were afforded great views of the Bridge and Opera House, but on arriving I quickly concluded there was nothing much to see there apart from some houses (albeit multi-million dollar efforts with a harbour view). So I returned on the next boat to the Circular Quay for a jaunt down Pitt Street through the financial district, and watching the futuristic monorail zipping about between the buildings, I headed to Darling Harbour.

Darling Harbour looked gorgeous at night, with its boats moored in front of the towering buildings. It had been developed primarily as an entertainment plaza, with restaurants, bars and, my interest for the evening, an iMax cinema. I'd never been to an iMax before, and couldn't wait.

I plumped with the impressive sounding Avatar, and handed a pair of huge 3-D specs each. Fifties-tastic! I couldn't have been more wrong as the huge screen rolled, the soundtrack boomed out from all directions and the pictures looked so real I felt I could've reached out and touched them.

Stanly

Sydney!!!

Bloody hell!
Sydney,

This morning I would be in Sydney. You know, Harbour Bridge, Opera House, a place with as many opportunities as redback (the spider)... it held a certain magical status in my mind. Sometimes I have to check myself. I never dreamed I would make it out here.

But first I had to get there, chauffeured to the airport that morning by, you guessed it, yet another relaxed, intelligent and friendly Aussie driver. We discussed all sorts on the forty-minute drive to Avalon airport, and he even got in the odd friendly dig about the Bloody Poms.

"The only reason Australia should stay in the Commonwealth is because they win all the medals at the Commonwealth Games," he quipped.
"Aiseh," I sneezed in reply.

A little kid wailing his lungs out throughout marred the flight. Poor little bugger; someone's not going to grow up wanting to be a pilot, I thought.

I arrived at 9am, and the airport was pretty much deserted. All the shuttle buses had packed up for the morning, so we begrudgingly set out to the taxi stand. Luckily as I approached and bumped into a couple of Belgian Flemish backpackers going our way, so we all jumped in and took a short ride to our area of choice, King's Cross.

It was a cheap backpacker area, mainly because it doubled up as the red light district, but conveniently located within fifteen minutes' walk of the centre. We grabbed a place to lay our heads in the Germanic-sounding Eva's Backpackers and prepared ourselves for the delectable harbour sights we'd be seeing tomorrow.

Stanly

Getting Kilda by Tram

Melbourne, Australia

When I arrived in Melbourne, I found it incredibly disturbing to be sharing the same road with those metal thundering beasts known as trams, and find it a miracle I never parked the hire car into one if I hired one. To avoid such unhappy marriages they have a special maneuver called a 'hook turn'. Completely contradicting all driving logic

So I was far happier to appreciate the trams on foot and as a passenger. Melbourne transport is integrated, so a day ticket allowed me to travel any bus, tram or train within the central zones. I took a tram today down to St Kilda, Melbourne's seaside resort. It was a pleasant sunny day, although a blustery cold wind was whipping off the sea as I walked the beachfront and passed Luna Park, a delightful 50's-style theme park complete with rickety rollercoaster.

As I walking along the beach, someone actually approached me kite surfing. At first I was not so sure and keen to take it up but then since I’m here with my bermuda pants and rush-guard so might as well. My initial plan was just swimming

Kite surfing or kiteboarding is a surface water sport that uses the wind to pull a rider through the water on a small surfboard or a kiteboard (similar to a wakeboard). It’s different concept between the real surfing and kitesurfing. Generally kiteboarding refers to a style of riding known as freestyle or wake-style, whereas kitesurfing is more "wave-riding" oriented.

For 75 Australia dollars, you simply get yourself an instructor to teach you how to surf. Approx 20-30min then you can enjoy kitesurfing on your own for 2 hours. Believe me it’s not hard and it’s not that easy to control your kite as well and the water is freaking cold!!

That evening I met Clarkson, a friend that I met along the way after work and we went for a drink with his other second cousin, Sarah, who was studying Art. Cue many obvious gags about Art Festivals,
Art Galleries and so on. She was a highly switched-on girl and the conversation turned to talk of the interpretation and meaning of Art. In a lighter moment, Sarah told me I was a dead ringer for her ex-flat mate.

I kept with the routine of meeting up with Clarkson after he'd finished feigning work the next day. Every time he would ask me what joyous things, I had been up to. Every time I would sheepishly tell him "nothing". Many hours today were spent writing my scrawling.

This travel log really is a labor of love at times - I had all but abandoned work on it when I reached here 2 days ago - but I was clawing my way back.

Stanly