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Friday December 3rd
1999, Circular Key, Sydney Harbour - 1300 hrs
It’s hot - I love it! The world renowned
bridge is opposite me, huge in its meccano style. You can’t help looking
at the structure, it totally dominates the scene. People mill about in
tourist ecstasy, taking photos of each other with the bridge in the background,
and all languages can be heard within fifty metres. I watch clear water
lapping at yellow and green ferry boats; nearby a big pearl white catamaran
bobs up and down on the waves. This is unmistakably Sydney, and it is beautiful.
The bluest sky paints the sea with azure light, sparkling as the tide swells.
In both directionsa along Circular Quay takes the visitor along Writer's
Walk where all the great Australian authors are honoured with a plaque
set into the stones commemorating them and their work. There was Germaine
Greer, Clive James, and Barry Humphries, amongst many others whose names
are etched in literary history.
My teeth ache gently but determined
to ignore the pain, I soldier on carrying a generous supply of pain killers.
Had to try a pie for breakfast - the fame of Aussie Pies has stretched
across the world to tempt me into Shakespeare’s Pie Shop where the fillings
are more diverse than any I’ve seen before (I had scrumptious Thai Broccoli
and Potato).
Sydney Botanical Gardens
1615 hrs
After two hours of wandering I’ve seen
more trees than you could shake a stick at. Huge towering gums of various
types - I didn’t know there were so many - festooned with Flying Foxes,
(big fruit bats) wrapped in leather-like wings akin to vampires encased
in coffins waiting for dark when they will awaken to feed. Occasionally
one stirs and shakes its wings, re-wrapping the black membrane around itself
again. I wonder at their upside down existence. Strange birds wander the
paths of this fabulous garden, white Sacred Ibis, poke their long curling
beaks into the grass, searching for titbits. In the pools, Eels undulate
along the walls; they escape the sea by climbing the nearby harbour wall
to take up residence in the gardens’ ponds. I think this is the best park
of its kind, given to the people for their enjoyment, there’s even a sign
asking you to walk on the grass and touch the flowers! Try that in London,
and see the reaction, he-he. Separated from the harbour by a pale limestone
wall, what were once the Governor's gardens now provide a spectacular view
over the north eastern shore. Joggers weave through groups of tourists
while other Sydneysiders eat their packed lunches on the grass in brilliant
sunshine.
Time to make my way back to base for
tonight's Christmas dinner. This will enable us all to enjoy the seasonal
meal together. Kathryn and Mary, (Chrissie's house mates) will also be
out of town on Christmas Day. A lively evening ensued. Everyone wearing
paper hats, pulling crackers, tucking into turkey and stuffing, in Meditteranean
temperatures, was to say the least, different me. I drank too much (as
you do on thse occasions), enjoying the friendly banter at the table.
Saturday 4th December
St Peter’s railway station 12.25 hrs
Sydney - a city moving so far ahead
of itself that the Sunday papers come out on Saturday!
This station is like something from
the 1950’s, with bright red benches and rubbish bins, diverse small trees
growing right on the platforms, and flowers in big stone boxes. The train
arrives, a modern two-tiered affair clad in shiny steel. I stare out of
the window at other stations full of people moving somewhere else. The
threat of rain hangs overhead but I’ve got a brolly with me to ensure lots
of sunshine!
Darling Harbour 1425 hrs
I rode the ferry to this modern harbour
full of expensive restaurants and tourist attractions with its spectacular
water sculptures (no other way to describe them) and monorail snaking its
way across to the maritime museum. I walked all around the harbour, admiring
the buildings, boarding the monorail to ride around the few stops on its
circuitous journey in and out of Market Street, Chionatown, and right past
some poor folks’ front windows!
Returning to Newtown around 5 p.m.,
jet-lag catches up with me and I lie down for a quick nap, waking at 8
to find the house deserted. Mary has gone to see Kathryn off at the airport
for her five week trip to Scotland. I take up residence in her room,
swiftly installing my clothes in her wardrobe. I called Ron, who
came
over to introduce me to the local pub, at the top of the road from the
house. I’m astounded to see the gaming room, full of one-armed bandits
being stuffed with coins by bored looking men and women. Then I see the
cash dispensing machine, actually inside the bar - a terrible temptation
to both drinkers and gamblers! As I move through Australia I will see these
Pokies everywhere, I feel the devastation they cause is tantamount to government
dealing in drugs. The state governments provide licences then collect
hefty revenues, casting a dark shadow on this bright and vibrant society.
Sunday 5th December
1000 hrs Newtown
Waking early I check the e-mail to
find my friend Kay is driving up from Melbourne, offering me a ride to
Byron Bay where I’m due at a New Year’s Eve party with a posse of friends
from around the world. Today perhaps I will visit Taronga zoo, I’m told
everyone goes to the beach on Sunday and I never did like packed beaches.
Sydney Harbour Bridge
Pylon 1400 hrs
I write whilst gazing down from an
observation point onto a spectacular water ballet involving all manner
of craft. Dominating the scene, HMS Bounty (from the movie of the same
name) glides along on its daily luncheon voyage around the harbour, sails
full of warm summer wind. This waterway to the world is very busy today,
ferries zigzag across the water, blaring a warning to graceful yachts and
smaller pleasure craft to move aside, fast! The bridge’s massive black
arch towers above me and I see people climbing to the top, looking like
grey suited fleas on the back of a big meccano set. I see what all the
fuss is about as I walk across the bridge, the “MV Batavia” is sailing
to its’ berth in Darling Harbour where it will moor for the summer season,
taking part in the Tall Ships Race next year. The reconstructed sailing
vessel passed right beneath me, almost brushing the bridge span with its
topsail. A big crowd came out to see her, and cameras clicked wildly as
she approached.
Cremorne Point 1715 hrs
This is a lovely green area skirting
the northern shore opposite the Botanical Gardens; I bought food to enjoy
a little picnic here beside clear blue water; (I even managed to climb
down onto the rocks to dangle my sore feet). Nearby, a bathing pool built
right onto the rocks tempts me into its cool depths and, I really wish
I’d brought my ‘swimmers’ on this scorcher of a day. People swim and sunbathe,
children laugh and scream and the ferries cruise by; I read and write in
the shade of an Acacia tree. What a pleasant time to be alive. The
golden sun begins to redden and slide toward the horizon, time to make
my way back to home base.
Monday 6th December,
Darling Harbour Ferry 1140 hrs
My awakening was rude thanks to Axle,
the black male cat who likes to rule the roost. The other feline resident,
a plump white tortoiseshell female called Rat-cat, lives upstairs in Chrissie’s
bedroom, coming and going from the branches of a tall tree with the aid
of a small gangplank, provided for her sole use. Axle is a bully at times,
poor Ratty is terrified of him, hiding out in the wardrobe when alone indoors;
she never ventures further than the upper landing.
The sky is dulled by a blanket of grey
cloud - is it possible there will be rain? How can that be? Everyone knows
It doesn’t rain in Australia; well, it never rains on ‘Neighbours’! It’s
22 degrees, too warm for a coat but the blustery wind calls for some covering,
and the visit to the beach is postponed for today. Instead I buy fruit
and make my way to Sydney Aquarium, feeling it’s better to be indoors on
a day like this. I am getting accustomed to the double-decker metro trains,
wondering if the design was copied by the Dutch for their mainline trains,
or if Australia copied the European version; either way they get you where
you’re going. At Darling Harbour, I spent three hours in the best aquarium
I’ve ever seen, which displays fabulous reef creatures of many coloured
hues, deep sea sharks, rays, turtles, smaller fish and crustacea, all contained
in one massive tank under which you can walk via a glass tunnel. Wow, what
a place!
Chinese Garden of Friendship,
1600 hrs
I’ve come to the quiet serenity of
the Lotus Pool, sharing my sandwich lunch with a shoal of brightly coloured
carp, three terrapin, seven ducks and a pretty crested bird I’m not familiar
with. I just threw a bit of tomato to a water dragon, creeping about amongst
the bushes; my friend TT would love this chap, he relishes my tomato offering,
devouring it greedily. The sun has appeared briefly, then gone again,
most confusing this on and off weather they have. This oasis of calm in
the centre of busy city life is just fabulous, exquisitely laid out, full
of huge rocks and gorgeous trees, a perfect place to relax - except for
the growl of traffic!
Tuesday 7th December
I caught the 10.30 ferry to Manly,
a delightful beach resort on the northern shores. Ocean Beach is flanked
by a line of huge, dark Norfolk Pines, which cast long shadows across the
sand as the afternoon wears on. I spent most of the time moving into the
sunshine to perfect my tan. Around 3 p.m., a strong on-shore breeze almost
blew me off the beach, which is when I gave up to walk back to the ferry.
Passing a beachfront bar, I saw a glass of sparkling wine being poured
and the sight made my mouth water. Goaded on by Stevo (who thinks he’s
a comedian) and his pretty girlfriend, I ordered a glass of champagne and
sat to extol the delights of life in Holland while waiting for another
ferry to leave without me. A second glass appeared and I was feeling no
pain by then. Fortunately the couple had to leave to collect their son
from school and I was free to resume my journey to the ferry, a little
more light in the head than when I arrived.
Chrissie took me to eat in an African
restaurant on King Street, followed by a chocolate nightmare of a place
(I resist the temptation to indulge myself but its not easy) before we
return home and I wobble to bed, tanned and tired.
Wednesday 8th December
Taronga Zoo 1320 Hrs
The hot start to the day sent me by
ferry over here but the temperature cooled as the sky clouded over. Nice
zoo, spacious enough (except for the lonely elephant swaying crazily in
his ‘enclosure’) and the bored-looking gorillas. Zoos are a problem for
me but as habitats are eroded by man, there seems to be little choice for
these creatures but to be displayed for our amusement and the education
of the young, a large party of whom wereshouting their way around the place.
My good deed for the day was finding a wallet on the ground and turning
it in to the staff, and when shortly afterwards a young woman came along
obviously searching the picnic area where I was having lunch, I was able
to reassure her the wallet was waiting at the cash desk. The expression
on her face was worthwhile. I ate bread, olives, Feta, and tomatoes to
the accompaniment of exotic birdsong. I thought the red pandas were great,
as were the otters and reptiles. I was shocked to see a Siberian Tiger
pacing up and down in front of a glass wall, and a pair of lion cubs gambolling
over each other in play. I don't like to see big cats in captivity. A leopard
looks totally bored behind his glass barrier and as for the giraffes, well,
what life do they have in this environment? I walked myself silly,
coming to regret not storing my bag in one of the lockers when I had the
opportunity. It’s the mandatory bottle of water you have to carry round
here that weighs so much.
Thursday 9th December
Bondi Beach 1445 hrs
And the rain came down on Sydney. The
pattering of raindrops woke me at four this morning, pulling me from slumber
to close the bedroom window. Blessing myself for bringing my umbrella,
I headed into town to browse Paddy’s Markets, an indoor collection of stalls
full of mostly Asian junk and cheap clothes, in the centre of the city.
I bought a backpack for $7 and a three-legged frog (good fueng shui) for
$8 before jumping a train to the most famous beach in Australia - Bondi.
Rain continued intermittantly as I strolled along the esplanade, separated
from the sand by a broad swathe of green, being sprinkled even as the rain
fell (what a way to waste water!) Ate Thai fish cakes and a massive
portion of chips on the beach, staring at daft people trying to get
upright on surfboards with little surf to ride. Surfing in the rain? There’s
a song there somewhere....
I missed the start of a tremendous
thunderstorm when I boarded the bus back to town. The route took me through
King’s Cross along Darlinghurst Road, Oxford Street and through Paddington.
A nice gay man in the seat next to me gave me a ‘tour’, pointing out landmarks
along the way, but as we approached Sydney the rain was so heavy you couldn’t
see out of the windows at all. Funny to think of Paddington as the posh
area of town, it was sleaze alley in London when I went to school there
years ago!
Back in Newtown my friend Kay called,
he’s in town at a friend’s and will come over tomorrow at noon. I
e-mailed everyone, and dozed a little (good old jet-lag!)
Friday 10 December
Newtown Station
Uurgh!! Just made a near-fatal error
in ordering a mushroom pie from the bakery, realising too late that it’s
a meat and mushroom pie! I must be more careful from now on when ordering
food. I’m taking the train to Olympic Park, scene of the coming games.
The Olympic site is some place, beautifully
designed. The pool is already in use, and some of the other facilities
are open too. I’m particularly impressed by a water feature, an arch of
water jets coloured pink; I see another one coloured blue in the distance.
Words of wisdom from the great and the good are etched in the steps leading
down to this water tunnel, and I can hear music drifting through the PA
slung high around the street lamps. A veritable paradise this clinical,
modern, white sports city, eerily silent without patrons to fill its gleaming
walkways. I’m one of just three passengers on the train back into town,
but in September this place will throng with visitors from all over the
world.
Back at base
Kay was late but in the meantime my
friend Jenny called which was wonderful, I haven’t seen her since we went
to the Voov Experience in Hamburg together. Spent the afternoon chatting
with Kay in the back garden. When the girls came home we all went to yet
another nearby Thai restaurant. It seems all the restaurants are BYO, even
some licensed places will allow you to bring your own wine, but nobody
likes you to bring a cask of wine with you.
Saturday December 11th
Kay left for a trip to the Blue Mountains
with some friends, I am booked on a pub crawl at 1300hrs, not sure if I’m
ready for this but I told Jenny to meet me at the first pub so I should
go. It's something of a Sydney tradition, this pub crawling. Every year
the party is held in a different area of the city, and you can join or
leave at whatever time you wish, passing by numerous hostelries on the
way. It's a great way to meet people they tell me. Of course when you've
had one or three it's difficult to remember the people you have met!
Newtown 1845 hrs - After
the pub crawl
What a day! Went to the first eight
pubs of a possible twenty-one, lunch for about thirty people was provided
at a lovely pub in Surrey Hills, this year's chosen area of venues. Interesting
group of people, all fairly big drinkers by my standards. Unfortunately
I have sharp pains in my shoulder and arm, have to try to see a chiropractor
on Monday. Just sitting in the back yard now, listening to evening sounds:
the neighbour putting out his recycling box full of paper glass and plastic
bottles, the song of a pretty bird as it clings to the branch of a palm
tree over my head, yellow beaked Mynah birds swoop over the rooftops, calling
out to each other, and a brilliantly hued lorikeet cackles from a gum tree.
A lovely Sydney evening.
Sunday 12th December
Today Chris and I are touring the northern
beaches, a long way up the coast, where the well-heeled residents live,
legal beagles, surgeons and top lawyers who commute for two hours into
the city to work, for the most part. Passing through places named Avalon,
Nareem, Palm and Whale beaches, we stop to sit on the sand awhile before
buying fish and chips to munch by the beautiful, clear sea. We passed by
the Newport Arms, a huge pub with masses of garden, a famous watering hole
and singles pick-up point overlooking an azure bay. Quite delightful.
Today was Lou & Ron’s wedding anniversary, so we drove over with champagne for the occasion, returning to the house at around 2130 to eat, altrhough I was already being eaten alive by the worst mosquitoes I’ve ever met - the Oz types are lethal!
Monday 13th December
I went to see one of the best chiropractor’s
I’ve ever consulted - a full 45 minutes of cracking, massage and advice
on how to improve my back troubles. I feel great now! Kay wants to leave
for Byron Bay on Thursday but I would rather wait another week. I took
him to a garage to get his van inspected; then to the Rocks, (originally
the worst part of the city, now an expensive tourist shopping area) and
on to the Botanical gardens, finally walking him over to the NRMA for free
maps. I sense a feeling of impatience from Kay, as if he were only tolerating
me for his own ends. He certainly has made himself comfortable at Chrissie’s,
using the place like a free hotel.
Chris & I were again out for dinner,
with the ‘girls’. Met Fran, saw her lovely little house in Marrickville,
the next suburb, all wood flooring and white stucco walls. We ate in a
Malay Restaurant on Enmore Road, not far from King Street, and had cakes
for dessert at the theatre cafe. Wicked women, they flaunted their sweet
cakes before me but I resisted temptation again!
Tuesday 14 December
Called the chiropractor for an appointment.
Had a great session of cracking, massage, manipulation and advice on my
problems, he even showed me a range of exercises to improve my back!
Met Jenny at noon in Kings Cross, grabbed a bottle of champagne and seafood
salad to take to Hyde Park, to get wellied under a huge spreading oak tree.
We rode along a very very long walkway to find the car park toilets, far
under the green swathe of The Domain, what a laugh! I decided to
introduce Jenny to the peace of the Chinese Garden where she fell asleep
on a rock; after spending the night up a tree with Kay I’m not surprised
she was tired! I left her at Town Hall station promising to call tomorrow.
I gouged in front of the TV all evening. Oz TV is so like the American
model, all adverts and no substance. I got sick of constant ad breaks in
movies; the closer you get to the action, they increase in , becoming longer.
You lose interest eventually.
Wednesday 15 December
A somewhat frustrating day tied to
Kay by the invisible thread of a single set of keys. We tip-toe around
one another politely, as if scared to touch one another. The ache in my
jaw has risen considerably, now kept at bay by regular intakes of pain
killers, hope I'm OK later, I eat at Chrissie's office Christmas party
tonight.
Circular Quay 1850 hrs
- Waiting for the ferry
Back in familiar watery territory.
The place swells with two tides - one aquatic, one human, each a constant
ebb and flow as Sydney goes home. Even at this hour, the sun still brightens
the northern shore; gleaming towers of polished eyes stare at the Opera
House, which in the evening light, resembles a pale orange with its segments
displayed to the sky.
Dinner was fun in the noisiest restaurant
in Sydney, a fashionable Thai place in Balmain with no soft wall coverings
and wooden floors, echoing every clatter and conversation. As the BYO flowed,
the volume of conversation to almost deafening level. On the calm, quiet
of the pavement, I shook my head to remove the people sounds from my ears.
Thursday 16th December
Kay is keen to leave tomorrow, wanting
to get to Byron Bay prior to its rumoured closure before New Year. I grudgingly
agree to accompany him, but first must get my tooth dealt with. A local
lady dentist treated it with a nerve dressing which serves to calm the
pain, although I must return in early January to have a root canal done
- uurgh! I felt so brave going to sort it out alone, very out of character
for me, but having lost three teeth just before my trip began, I’m quite
accustomed to the dentist’s chair now. Jenny had arrived upon my return
to the house, apparently invited by Kay.
I cooked dinner for Chrissie and a
friend of hers Janice. Ron popped in later for a glass of Shiraz. It’s
amazing how much wine is being drunk here, I can’t stop guzzling the stuff.
It helps me to fall asleep at a reasonable hour though.
Friday 17th December
- 1310 hrs Off Pacific Highway
Journeying north began around 11 am
with rain peppering the windscreen, dampening the air and making the inside
of Kay’s van smell like a dirty laundry bag. He smokes a lot too (can’t
complain when its his van can I?). We’ve stopped for tea, listening to
birdsong. The two-lane national highway is not too busy and the scenery
of NSW is really lovely as we move through one national park after another,
me dozing with the motion. Stopping at one of the many small towns off
the highway, we stock up with provisions at Woolworth's of all places,
here in Australia a gigantic supermarket. I raid the cash machine and we’re
off!
2200 hrs Dee Why Forest,
NSW
What awful weather - at times drizzle,
at times hard driving rain. We detoured to find a place to rest but find
it impossible to park overlooking the ocean, as Kay wishes. A logging track
takes us into thick forest in utter darkness, almost crossing a rock-filled
stream. I balked at this possibility, we could find ourselves stranded
if the rain continues. We park amongst towering gum trees, listening to
the sound of the rain and occasional bird call. It’s impossible to erect
my little tent so we are forced to share the van’s narrow interior, neither
of us getting a comfortable night’s sleep. The seemingly obligatory mosquito
made itself known, trying to get into my sleeping bag.
Saturday December 18th
- 1000 hrs Coff’s Harbor
The pain in the shoulder woke me early.
We ate breakfast at Nambucca Heads where a covered picnic table on the
roadside provided shelter from the constant drizzle. A nice guy stopped
to chat, his sleeping baby slung on his back. I watch parrots searching
the grass for food, hearing the unmistakable cackle of a Kookaburra, high
on a branch above.
Mid-afternoon was when Byron Bay appeared
on the horizon. A seemingly very affluent place, Byron is reminiscent of
coastal California towns. The well-heeled alternative Australians live
in this special place on the continent where ley lines are reputed to criss-cross
the countryside. Everywhere in the town, shops offer crystals, aromatherapy
oils, tarot readings and the like. Apparently this is the spot every
east coast Aussie heads for the New Year’s celebrations although I can’t
understand why, given the expensive shops and overpriced accommodation.
At the Arts Factory, a famed backpackers hang-out, there is officially
no room at the inn, but I did find a small spot which would have taken
my little tent comfortably. However, as it poured with rain and the campsite
resembled a quagmire, I decline the chance to erect it.
We move off up to Mullumbimby to find
our friend Jo, and meet up with Alistair and Tania, two friends from Goa,
at another house in the small country town. After much discussion we are
reluctantly permitted to park on the grass verge for the night outside
the house, the house already being full of visitors. Nobody is interested
in me putting up the tent so I expect I’ll sleep in the van again.
Driving over to Jo’s parents’ house,
Kay has a hard time avoiding we find she resides in the massive three-car
garage of a veritable ranch of a bungalow. There is no poverty on this
property, or on any of the other luxurious homes we passed to reach it.
Two familiar German faces are here also waiting for the hostess to return,
and Kay falls immediately into his mother tongue. Mark and Dave, two more
acquaintances from India, are also living in the garage, one half of which
has been arranged like a bed-sit. When she returns, Jo is full of joy at
seeing old friends again and a small party ensues with much smoking and
beering, and much chagrin for her father who appears at the house door
periodically to glare in our direction and mumble about hippies in his
garage. We had hoped to be able to camp on a field next to their home but
it’s obvious we are unwelcome. At 10.15 p.m. Kay and I decide to return
to Al & Tania’s van, where we are given a lovely meal cooked on their
camping stove. I retired to sleep, almost achieving it before Kay came
crashing into the van, half drunk. Oh well, I did manage to drop off quite
soundly, exhaustion helping me find the land of nod.
Sunday 19th December
Mullumbimby - 0930 hrs
I repacked my clothes early this morning,
in already hot sunshine, a welcome break in the grey blanket of cloud.
I’m determined to get somewhere to sleep and have my eye on the little
spot at the Arts Factory. Also, thoughts of the Barrier Reef are in my
head, maybe I could get a bus up there today, returning in a week or so,
I really want to see the azure blue and white sands I‘ve seen on the telly!
Byron Bay market 1310
hrs
Returning to the Arts Factory, I began
to erect my tent in the tiny space, when a blonde surfer type collecting
garbage orders me to stop, there is no more room, he says, despite this
small damp patch of grass that remains tucked between two tents. I reluctantly
repack my tent and leave. I felt much better after setting up on another
campsite, Belongil Fields, 2 km west of town. I now sit under a spreading
gum tree, at what might be termed as Australia’s answer to Anjuna market
in Goa, full of stalls selling hippie wares and services. many of the goods
originated in India. Incense, wind chimes, massage, tarot readings, vegetarian
and natural food stalls, all teeming with people searching for that special
Christmas present. I’m being careful now I am paying ‘rent’ and must fend
for myself in the wilds of New South Wales!
With my newly acquired ‘esky’ (cold
box) I am set up nicely. Kay gave me an old tarpaulin with which to cover
the tent, all I need now is a gas stove. Well, perhaps not; the campsite
provides wood to fuel their barbecue hotplates, I’ll just improvise a little.
I could sure use a pot to boil water...
Monday December 20th
Byron Main Beach 1355 hrs
My neighbour John, a rugged, silver-haired
Queenslander who reminded me of God in DaVinci's Sistine Chapel ceiling,
made the day's first fire. I had tea and boiled egg on toast for breakfast,
very civilised. The site has showers, a laundry, a shop - everything you
would need really for a holiday in the sun. It’s very beautiful hereabouts
but I am disappointed at the lack of recycling facilities or public transport
in the area. Hitchhiking is the only way to travel it would seem, it was
suggested to me that I buy a car but I am somewhat sceptical. I got a ride
into town from a local after only 5 minutes. At one of the many cafes
I booked an hour on the internet, then searched for a pedicurist to aid
my painful in-growing toenail. Meandering along the beach, lost in the
blue of the sea, I forgot the internet, then the beauty clinic decided
they were not the people to do the job, I must go to a doctor. Back to
the drawing board!
This afternoonI hitched out to Mullumbimby
to join others protesting against thelocal council's cancellation of the
New Year’s Millenniyum party. I found Matt, an acquaintance from Goa, who
almost talked to me into buying his old panel van for only A$800 (about
£330 sterling, Dfl.1200). A pile of junk without door handles, (entry
via the back doors) it looked a bit like a Ford Taunus station wagon with
panels rather than windows. I’m positive I can do better. The hippie crowd
gathered, resplendent in fluoro colours, tassels, beads and other paraphernalia,
to dance to the drummers who beat a hypnotic rhythm. Outside of the council
offices, we cheered every member who walked the gauntlet to take part in
the meeting, whilst inside, a legal beagle plead our case. Maybe we unknowingly
danced a rain dance, a dark cloud passed overhead, sprinkling its load
onto dread-locked heads. Amazingly the ploy worked, an official came out
to tell us we could have our party but would we please go make noise somewhere
else so that they could carry on with the day’s business?
Slowly the company of multi-coloured
people drifted off and I found myself sitting next to Jo in Matt’s van
on the way to her house with Al and his girlfriend in the back. That’s
when the policeman saw us, or should I say, saw Matt without his seat belt,
and pulled us over. Matt has an attitude about seat belts, flatly refuses
to wear them, so he gained a pink ticket and a fine will be levied for
$200, this did little to lift his already dicey mood. After a couple of
hours at Jo’s place he reluctantly brought us home for $10 petrol money,
eagerly pocketed. He needed it too, it was about 25 Km to Byron!
Tuesday 21st December
Hitched a ride into town with Jim,
a second hand car salesman who gave me his card and put me on to another
bloke in town who might have a vehicle for me. At the beach I met up with
young Jason, another pal from India, who was meeting Kay. I left them to
chat, feeling somewhat uncomfortable being with my former friend. On the
way back to the site I visited with Al and the gang, and learned where
in the bush tomorrow night's full moon party will be held.
Along the Esplanade is a good place
to find an old car, I inspected a couple before finding one at $800, just
my price range. Another guy, also interested, called the owner to learn
it was not really fit to travel in big time; I appreciated the honesty,
at home I’d have been sold a crock of shit.
Back at the campsite I chatted with
three young boys from Melbourne, skate boarders, keen to go party tomorrow,
which is good news for me - I’ll get a ride! It would seem that’s what
the Melbournians do best, ride. When Peter wanted to go to the toilet,
he got into his car to drive the 50 metres to the shower block! They tell
me everyone in Melbourne has wheels on their legs but I think they might
be exaggerating just a little....
Wednesday 22nd December
Early out of bed to grey, wet beginnings.
Old John buggered up my fire this morning when I’d got it going so well,
too. I’m leaving it to him from now on, the miserable sod. I am told that
Queenslanders are a bunch of arrogant rednecks with scarce a thought for
the environment, latest news is they are bulldozing trees apace before
a new law forbidding such destruction. I know exactly what they mean having
met old John, his concern is solely for himself and you better not get
too close or he’ll shoot you.
In town I got a map of the area and
bought a $3 swimsuit from the Op Shop, the Oz charity shop. At the Peter
Pan internet cafe I sent mail, and received an invitation to their Christmas
party held at the Black Milk bar. I’ll stroll down later on to see what
the score is.
2200 hrs Belongil Fields
OK so things didn’t work out. Peter
and Andy from the Melbourne crew cried off, pleading illness, so I hitched
into town. Got my free drink and meal at the Black Milk, but the place
was chock full with young backpackers (you can say the same about the whole
of Byron) and when Jason arrived, we left together for the Arts Factory
for a smoke. I made the fatal error of asking a question of the blonde
guy who runs the place. He recognised me as a non-resident and ordered
me to leave! I was so embarrassed - he actually stood around watching to
ensure I left the premises, despite my being in the company of people staying
there. I’ve never felt so humiliated as I left, vowing never to return.
Thursday 23rd December
Not the best of days, rain and cold
always depress me. Went to find the car dealer, discovering he had moved
into the other side of town; when I got there there was nothing under $2000.
What a waste of time. Sent some mail, shopped for my neigbour Sharon,
and hitched back. I had a good laugh moving between Sharon’s place and
my other neighbours, three French Canadians. I’ve been invited to eat with
a big posse of English boys and girls tomorrow, should be quite a laugh.
Friday December 24th
Can’t believe its Christmas Eve and
the temperature is 28º with cloying humidity. That’s what you get
for living in a rainforest although there is precious little forest left,
just lots of rain! Today I shopped early for Xmas fare (Barramundi
and 2 litres of wine), returning to Byron to find Kev,(an oil rig diver
with hollow legs) Damien,(camp roustabout and weed supplier) Mike (nice
guy from Tweed Heads with a lovely dog - Max) and Tony (Damien’s hanger-on)
having fun at the Beach Pub, I join the throng, soon deep in conversation
with Cory, an American who tells us he's just bought a castle, and a girlie
that recognises me from the TV show in UK last March. Kev and I, a little
worse for wear, go get his Christmas shopping, taxiing everything back
through a torrential downpour. To my annoyance I discovered my suitcase
had leaked, soaking all my clothes, so I spent the evening by the barbecue
drying them out. I’m beginning to get fed up with this rain!
Saturday 25th December
- Merry Christmas!
Woke up to brilliant sunshine. Cooked
breakfast before visiting Kev’s camp for Buck’s Fizz, where I met
Bill who once owned an Amsterdam coffee shop, and knew my best pal, of
all people. I spent the afternoon tanning my buns on the beach, losing
my way on the return trip and having to return to the campsite via some
poor bloke’s lounge! The UK crowd were all too drunk to eat, so I prepared
my own Christmas meal, chatting with some nice Poms over the BBQ. The evening
was a somewhat liquid affair, most of it down my throat!
Sunday 26th December
You wouldn’t know it was Christmas
in Byron, it’s business as usual. I sent email, got prawns for tonight’s
meal and spent the afternoon drinking with Kev, Bill & Peter, (another
UK maniac). The weather was warm and dry, thank goodness. The Melbourne
boys kept me company for dinner, and when we heard some kick-ass music
from way across the field, we just had to investigate. A posse of
Gold Coast boys, wild as wallabies, had arrived, making loads of noise
(that’s why they were far away from everyone else). My, they were pretty
though....
Monday 27th December
Well today’s weather is another matter
entirely. Sheets of rain fell, prompting me to wish for another tarp. I
was stuck in the tent for a long time, unable even to read a book. Eventually
the storm abated, Kev and I cadged a ride into town with Canadian Erik
to mail - message from Tim & Kerry, who will be in Mulumbimbie Thursday,
great - I’ll meet them there. Had a drink in the Great Northern Hotel in
town until Kev was too knackered to carry on, after being up all night.
I made a quick decision and booked myself on the coach to Sydney leaving
next Sunday, also went to book with Jim’s Alternative Tours to Nimbin,
the hippie enclave in the most beautiful countryside. I look forward to
a day of interesting sights.
The rain kept everyone quiet this evening,
I supped soup and sat in Mike’s van to stay dry. The Gold Coast gang were
letting off fireworks to entertain the site until quite late.
Tuesday 28th December
The tarpaulin protection blew off my
tent in the night, the wind was so strong. I re-rigged the camp this
morning, managing to make a fried egg sandwich before the rain returned.
Kev and I hitched into town for lunch at the Northern Star and some shopping.
More and more people have arrived for the new year celebrations, the site
has more than enough yobbos to populate a football field now. I tried to
go to sleep early but some clown was playing loud music until very late.
At least it stopped raining!
Wednesday 29th December
The shower queue grows longer by the
hour, full of new campers here to enjoy Byron Bay. The locals say it’s
always the same, packed with people here to get drunk and revel for a few
hours on December 31st. Nobody can work out why; this is just a seaside
town in New South Wales where it rains most of the time, so what’s the
attraction? I note with contempt that the site has raised its prices considerably,
even the shop has put its prices up, I can’t believe it! Things are
not much better in town, the rates for internet use have doubled in some
places, petrol prices are up too. How can they get away with it?
I was plagued by children riding their
bicycles around me as I sat at a table in the covered barbecue area by
the showers; when their mother asked if they were being a nuisance, I jokingly
said they were a bit of a pain in the neck, she replied: ”Yeah, well they
have the right because they live here, and you don’t.” I was shocked at
such a racist remark, but minutes later, watching her threaten her kids
with violence and screaming at them to “get in the f-ing car!” I realise
there’s just no communicating with this type of person and I decided to
leave the scene. Unfortunately, the camp site continues to fill with similar
types. However, I must mention the arrival of a trio of young surfer boys
who came into the enclave last night, nice friendly lads with a great sense
of humour, not at all like the rest of the nearby inhabitants.
Nimbin Town 1500 hrs
I enjoyed a freshly made custard tart
while sitting under a tree in the centre of this unique village, watching
the locals at play. A motley crew of hippies, drunks, and tourists mix
on the one main street of this alternative hamlet nestling in a magnificent
green valley, 25 km from Byron Bay. Out of interest, I peruse the local
estate agents, seeing properties for as little as A$ 60,000 for a share
to A$350,000 for 25 acres and a palace. I hate to think about the level
of property taxes out here, where growing and smoking weed is tolerated,
and residents complete clandestine transactions down side alleys. The tiny
police station ignores the locals, concentrating on catching real criminals,
like rustlers and burglars. On the way up here, Jim drove the 30 seat bus
into the Whia Whia forest to magnificent Minyon Falls, sprinkling treetops
far below with a crystal clear, slightly brackish tasting water. Majestic
cliffs shaped by volcanic hands drop hundreds of metres to the crater’s
floor, far below. The 2.5 metre deep plunge pool was the main attraction
as Jim encouraged everyone to jump into the cold water. Not me, I’m far
too cowardly for that! Instead, I sat on a large rock in mid-stream,
feet in the cool water, smoking languidly. I almost lost my shoes in the
process, caught scant inches from the edge by the quick reactions of a
handsome Israeli man. Climbing up to the lookout, it’s sad to see initials
carved on some of the trees, their paper coats peeled back to reveal honey
gold trunks, stretching to touch the sky.
Back
to the bus and a chance meeting with this lace monitor lizard in the car
park. Searching for a free meal from a tourist's picnic basket, it
almost scared the poor woman to death!
Tea Tree Lake 1730 hrs
Boy do Aussies like to get wet! Again
I regret the lack of my swimmers as the party plunge into a warm tea tree
stained lake, renowned for its healing properties. This lake was once held
sacred by the local Aboriginal tribe. Jim says another sacred lake exists
nearby, rumoured to be even more beautiful, from which the outside world
is excluded, used only for spiritual ceremonies. I don’t blame them for
keeping it to themselves, as I see the canoes and windsurfers gliding over
the water's glittering surface. I sympathise with the plight of the indigenous
people of Australia the more I see and hear. Apartheid appears to be alive
and well, the Aboriginals are owners of some of the worse tracts of land,
where next to nothing grows. The lush coastal forest lands are state owned,
with lots cleared and periodically sold off for housing or farming. The
only Aboriginals I have yet seen, sit at the beach drinking from brown-bagged
bottles, or drumming all day.
Watego Beach 1845 hrs
Jim brought us to Byron Bay lighthouse
to view Cape Byron from above, peppered with clambering mountain goats
clinging precariously over its sheer cliffs. After ten minutes of wandering
around the lighthouse, he drove down the winding road to this little cove,
overlooked by the most expensive homes in the area. Huge ranch-style houses
cling to the steep slope, their windows staring glassily out at the ocean
sunrise.
Back at the camp ground I share dinner
with the new neighbours, the three surf jockeys from ‘up north.’ We laugh
the evening away, sharing a barbecue and a goon (I call it a bladder),
a cask of wine, available in various types and quantities of two, or four
litres. I’ve come to like Semillon, the grape grown in Perth, the best.
There are many varieties of Aus white, amongst which are Chablis, Riesling,
Semillon and of course, Chardonnay, all grown in different regions and
cheap as chips (as the Aussies say). This explains the copious amounts
I am drinking every day lately, it’s like giving a donkey sugar!
Thursday 30th December
I took an early ride into Byron with
the surfers, off to their first waves of the day. Bought shopping, returned
to the site to wash clothes, borrow a sewing kit and head for Belongil
beach to sew fluoro beads and feathers on my new bush hat in preparation
for tomorrow night's party. The beach was very hot, I was fiorced to move
into shade to save my buns from peeling! No beach umbrellas, shops, or
guards mar the view of a huge expanse of fine, milk white sand, stretching
to the horizon in both directions - north and south. Fabulous. To
reach the beach required a two kilometre trudge through a housing estate,
crossing the single track railway line, skirting the golf resort, and crossing
the shallow delta of Belongil Creek to the windy expanse of the shore.
The Coral Sea was cold.
Hitched a ride at 1630 getting to Mulumbimbie
quite quickly with a nice family in a four wheel drive. It was much hotter
than Byron, lacking the on-shore breeze that cools the town so well. Along
the one main street I met up with Craig, Grant, Heidi, Jonno and Brett,
all friends I was last with in Pushkar, Northern India! What a surprise!
Shortly afterwards I saw Kerry and Tim with their parents, just arrived
from Brisbane. It was such a nice reunion. Two more new friends, Adam and
Clare, were waiting for them also and we all spent a fun couple of hours
in the local pub until the late hour forced them to search for nearby camping
grounds and me to put out my thumb again, beginning a journey into hell.
I caught a ride up to the highway where
a guy had his thumb out, claiming to have been there over half an hour.
I decided to walk on and see if I could get a ride alone. Big mistake.
Two-lane Pacific Highway is not a road you should hitch-hike, there’s no
kerb, pavement, nor hard shoulder for much of its length. I got a very
nasty shock when some redneck idiot rolled down the passenger window to
throw an empty can at me! It bounced harmlessly off my backpack,
but frightened me to tears. I stumbled along, being strafed by massive
trucks screaming along at ridiculous speeds, limping on one broken
shoe, praying for a ride. I removed my coat for drivers to see I was a
female, prompting a couple to pull over.
Friday
31st December - Party Time!
Walked into Byron to fix my sandal
strap, e-mail, and hit Byron main beach for a couple of hours before returning
to hang out on the site all day, mostly with the big posse lving under
a huge awning, Chris and his gang from up north, the boys with a freezer
for an esky!
Time to get ready for the doof (in Australia,
trance parties are known as doofs! a synonym for the thumping beat coming
out of the PA - doof, doof, doof, doof.....) Worried about rumours of camp
thieves, I stored my passport and traveller's cheques under the mattress
in Mike's van for safekeeping, better than the tent at any rate.
I left the camp site at 1930 hrs intending
to hitch up to Coorabell (sounds like a cow to me) where the Millenniyum
bash was to be held. At the gate, one guy was already busy hitching so
I thought I’d hang with him. Soon, two others arrived carrying a flyer
showing a bus to the party down the road at the petrol station. Terrific,
transport laid on only 100 metres from my tent, can’t be bad! I climbed
aboard and we sped off into the night, just in time to dodge the
deluge that fell ten minutes later. The bus twisted its way up and down
mountains before dumping his load at the end of a dark country lane. Promising
to return Sunday at 13.30 the bus drove off, leaving us in near total darkness
and drizzle. It felt like ten minutes of slipping along in darkness to
get to the gate. Along the way, I recognised Matt’s van, poking my head
into the window. He asks: “Patsi, do you have a ticket?” I reply, “Not
yet.” “Do you want one cheap? Oh, what the heck, here you go,” and he handed
me a ticket! I couldn't believe my good karma, continuing on down the dark
lane to where Greg checked my ticket, with Jo seated in a booth, selling
more. Along with about 800 others, I was ushered into a large sloping field,
and the gig was on!
The field had been decorated very well
with various light sculptures, three dance floors catered to different
styles of music, a chai shop and food tent were set up, and some awnings
erected as chill-out zones, sheltering the revellers from persistent drizzle.
I already had wet feet, and wore a thin plastic Mac to cover my clothes.
I found Eric and Vanya, then more Amsterdam Elves, until I’m almost completely
surrounded by old friends. I got so far out of my head I was on the way
back by the time the fireworks began, a full 30 minutes of display, perfectly
timed with the music. Fire jugglers, acrobats, more fire juggling, and
fireworks, oh, it was superb. The show continued through the night, periodically
setting off another display somewhere in the field. What a party! Despite
the damp we all had a simply splendid time Happy Millenniyum everybody!
Saturday 1st January
2000
The sunshine broke through the grey
blanket around noon, by which time many were flagging. I left at about
12.30, exhausted, and wanting my bed. Waiting at the end of the lane for
the bus to arrive, I see policemen taking down the numbers of people badly
parked at the junction, then they start up the lane with vehicles parked
perfectly well on the grass verge. Whoa! What a way to greet the
new millennium, by serving parking tickets on everybody, well that’s just
typical pig behaviour by all accounts. They’ve some of the worst police
here, akin to American cops with their hard-nosed attitudes and inherent
power trips. On a new year’s morning too, I pointed this out to one of
them but thought better of being too belligerent as I had grass in pocket.
Waiting became a drag after 25 minutes,
the people waiting with me decided they would walk to the main road; a
bad move, I thought. the bus would come, we need just wait. Herd instinct
got the better of me and I tagged along with about ten others to the main
road. After half an hour of walking along deserted country lanes the bus
passes me, heading for the pick-up point. See, I said it was a mistake...
Too far away to walk back, it took two lifts to get me to the Byron road
and a push of a girl’s car to get it going for the last stretch. At last
I returned to the site, tired but happy.
After a shower I grab few hours’ sleep
in the tent, arising to find Mike’s van was missing from its customary
parking place. From the evidence of the tickets I got the idea he had booked
out and left, perhaps unaware of the passport and cheques under his mattress!
Oh no, is this going to be the Great Australian Rip-off? After checking
with the office who have no clue as to his whereabouts, I panicked anew
but Sharon (bless) convinced me I had nothing to sorry about and if I did
there was no reason to upset myself unnecessarily. She was right; I decided
to join Chris’s gang for an evening of drinking to drown my sorrows under
their big canopy. Later on it transpired that 1 January is Qld John’s birthday,
and the French Canadians bought him cake and a bottle of champagne, which
of course, I had to try. When I stumbled into my tent about 10 pm, I was
extremely drunk.
I put on the headphones to block out
the camp noise, lay back, and remember saying to myself “I must remember
to put out the candle....” before drifting into oblivion.
At 2315 I awoke, silence in my ears
and a strange flickering light in the tent. I looked down to see the nylon
zip of my sleeping bag on fire in four places, the naked headphone wires,
stripped of their plastic coat, and the candle, still burning brightly.
Instant reaction - stamp out the flame, right? Only I used my left arm
to do it, having nothing else available at the time. The searing pain of
melted nylon solidifying on your skin is intense! I managed to get out
of the tent, dragging the ruined sleeping bag with me, screaming in pain,
racing towards the neighbouring Canadians' camp. I must have gone into
shock as they tried to calm me and put burn cream on the burns. Wrong!
Always run the skin under cold water for 20 minutes to form a blister,
then add burn cream. That’s what should have happened. The pain worsened
and I asked Erik to run me down to the hospital, my arm thrust out of the
window in cold air cool, as he raced down the esplanade to Byron’s emergency
room. Wake up, Happy New Year, can you fix up our friend please? The nurses
must have thought we were mad but they calmed me down with my very own
tank of nitrous oxide (very obliging staff) and a bowl of cold water to
soothe the burned arm. Dressing me professionally, handing me two tablets,
the
nurse announced that I am to stay the night, covered me with a blanket,
leaving me to fade out on a trolley in the ER.
Sunday 2nd January
2000
Leaving day. Have to pack the tent
up and get into town... oh no, where am I? Memories dawn as I watch the
nurses wheel in a woman on a gurney, closing the curtains to obscure their
work. I stretch, find the bathroom and wash with one hand, yawning at myself
in the mirror. Permitted to leave, I walked out into early rainfall (what
else?) making my way to the coach office.
At the bus company's office the first
millennium bug appeared, with one computer unable to process stuff and
the other going slower than a snail. I explain that the ticket might be
in Tweed Heads by now, and with a mildly sympathetic but there’s nothing
she can do smile, the girl says sorry, but maybe it would be better to
return in a couple of hours. "Please don’t worry madam, the computer has
the names of all booked passengers, you will be on the bus at 6 p.m. tonight."
Fine.
The first stroke of luck hit me on
the road to Belongil, when a gorgeous guy in a red Porche stopped to give
me a lift. Wow, I wish I’d been going to Brisbane! Walking to my camping
spot from the road, I note Mike’s van parked where it has been for a week,
next door but one to me. Retrieving the wallet gratefully I berate myself
for being so foolish and quick to assume the worst. He had been at a friend’s
all yesterday, arriving back after midnight, thinking I was asleep when
he got back.
Packing took a while and needed help
from others but eventually all was ready, under the tarp. Traffic on the
Byron road was simply awful so I walked into the town to check email. At
the beach I stand in the surf and chat with a nice lady who hasn’t lost
her Welsh accent, looking like a pair of women on a Blackpool postcard,
with skirts held up around our knees, paddling in the sea.
Shopping in the supermarket I meet
Craig, then Heidi and the rest of their group. We sit for a coffee, I take
a photo or two for the friends’ wall at home, and we walk together to the
market which I had no idea was on today. I find Juud, Laurance, Janeen,
Caddy and other friendly faces sitting outside on the grass. My mood lifted
considerably when surrounded by loving friends, I was soon laughing off
the nights’ events. Time ticks by, too soon I must leave to get my baggage.
Promising to meet in Melbourne, we part.
Walking back to the camp site I see
Chris and the boys on their way into Byron, waving their goodbyes from
the back of their big Ute. I’m disappointed they didn’t wait for me to
return, and try to find an alternative porter, I can’t even carry my coat,
let alone the case and esky! Kev, bless his cotton socks, helps me to the
road where we call a cab. I hug him one last time then off into the new
again, heading for Sydney.
The bus journey took longer than necessary,
lengthened by the lateness of the departure from Byron (almost an hour)
and the fact that the drivers wait around for 3 hours some place north
of the city before continuing. Also, stopping for refreshments in the middle
of the movie wasn’t the best of arrangements. We stop at the same lake
side beauty spot where Kay and I rested and he checked his mail on the
way up. In the restaurant, creepy-crawlies abound, even over the table
I am sitting at. Uurgh! I hate things that crawl around...
Monday 3rd January
- Newtown
Oh how good it is to sleep in a proper
bed again! Arrived at 0700 but was reluctant to knock everyone out of bed
too early after discovering today is a public holiday. Got my Christmas
gifts from Chris, a lovely book on Australia, and a cat book. I repacked
my luggage and watched videos all day.
Tuesday 4th January
Today I called Gabby, a Sydneysider
internet friend, who came to collect me and take me car hunting around
the backpacker hostels of King’s Cross. There was nothing really available
but I have an appointment to view a car tomorrow. Gabby drove out of town
south towards Wollongong, through the State National Park and beyond. We
called in at the bowling club where her father plays, to watch water dragons
in the gardens, then ate lunch by a river. That’s when Gab got the two
tiny leeches on her ankle, making me peel them off pretty damn smartish.
I attract mosquitoes - Gabby attracts leeches, nothing weird about that.
Dipped my feet in another of those swimming rock pools, this one along
the coast, and had a thoroughly lovely time today.
Wednesday 5th December
Cafe Amsterdam, King’s Cross 11.30 hrs
Just got through looking round the
backpacker car market where some nice vans and cars are displayed. Nothing
however, under $1700, a bit over the price I can afford really. I’ve a
Nissan to look at for $1400 which might be more reasonable.
Newtown 1400 hrs - Walzing With Matilda
Nice old car, slow but sound. A Nissan
Datsun 280C it is, a model I’ve never seen in Europe, 6 cylinder and relative
luxury for a 1978 car. I might have got the price down below $1250 but
I guess its OK considering I should be able to recoup my losses at the
end of the trip. Off to get petrol and coolant, then out of town for a
spin!
Later
I took a ride down the Prince’s Highway
to test the old girl’s mettle. She’s a bit hungry on the gas but probably
better on a longer run. I made curry; Fran, Chrissie’s friend came over
to eat, and Lou and Ron arrived later. Ron says the car’s great and no
problem selling it after my trip. My mind is full of possibilities, of
selling it in WA and taking the train back via Uluru for example, hmmm....
Now there’s a thought.
Thursday 6th January
Newtown 2050 hrs
Today
I went out to the Blue Mountains, they are beautiful, so majestic, so BIG.
Coming from a lowland country I ache to see mountains now and again but
I haven’t seen any to compare with these since my last trip to Switzerland.
They are very blue thanks to the blue gums that cover them. I had
a little picnic at Pulpit Rock or at least the lookout opposite the famous
rock formation. At Evans Lookout the ice cream van played the exact same
version of ‘Greensleeves’ as they play on countless housing estates at
home to attract customers! The car goes well, she plods along apace but
drinks much fuel. On the return trip I stopped at the hospital (silly move)
to sit for over an hour to get a clean bandage on my burn wounds, after
a long wait I left with the dressings to apply myself, at home. Looks like
the health service here is the same as in Europe - underfunded.
Friday 7th January
Motored down the Pacific Highway a
little further south this time, to visit the Nan Tien Temple, the largest
Bhuddist temple in the southern hemisphere. Wow, it’s a lovely place; immaculate
gardens laid out on a hillside next to the highway (a bit noisy when you
get near the wall). You spy the pagoda first, it’s unmistakable shape resembling
a series of pretty coloured cakes piled on top of each other. A pagoda
is actually a temple for the dead, guarding the spirits of the ancestors,
each tier in fact a gallery of brass plaques containing the names of the
dear departed. There are three rooms - a place for contemplative prayer,
a larger teaching room and the central offerings chamber at the pagoda's
base. I lit incense and paid my respects to the dead while asking Buddha
to bless my journey. Throughout the gardens there are signs to discourage
unwanted wandering -’Snakes in this area’ appears before each bed of exotic
plants; this is a superb method of stopping visitors walking where they’re
not welcome, it certainly kept me off the grass!
Returned to Newtown to move house,
so to speak. Kathryn comes home today so it’s back to the futon on Chrissie’s
bedroom floor for me. Tonight I was out to dinner alone with Ron
and Lou, as Chris has an appointment elsewhere. We had fish but it didn’t
taste anything like the fish I am used to at home, for example the snapper
was not so nice; why does Australian fish taste different from the fish
in the northern hemisphere?
Saturday 8th January
Off to the movies with Belinda, another
of Chris’s friends this morning. Yes, I said morning but we’re going to
catch the 12.30 show, weird time to see a film if you ask me. At the Mall
we are offered ten different choices of food for breakfast; you pick your
own flavour, consuming your food in one central eating area, a great American
idea lacking in Europe. Unfortunately the only versions I’ve so far seen
involve Macdonald’s, Pizzaland and Burger King, not much in the way of
choice there, really.
The movie was great - ‘Snowfalls on
Cedars,’ a dreamy drama with beautiful blue misty photography. We emerged
into afternoon sunlight, driving to Belinda’s divine house with its two
levels and long garden, to indulge ourselves with delicious cake.
In the evening, Piet invited us all
to a BBQ gathering in his minuscule back garden, another lovely little
house tucked away in Erskineville. Or was it Marrickville or even Enmore?
They’re each delightful in the style of properties along their quiet side
streets. Kathryn and I walked back to Newtown, which was a mere 10 minutes
away.
Sunday 9th January
Lunch at Sydney’s famed fish markets,
watching pelicans feeding on the quayside for the tourists as they dine
on copious amounts of seafood and chips. Nearby live Isabel and Tim, in
yet another little gem of a place tucked off the main streets a stone’s
throw from the harbour. On Sunday the markets are packed with weekend fish
lovers dining on anything the Pacific Ocean provides, and some weird looking
unknown beasts were on display. I tried Whiting, finding it delicious.
Lazed about during the afternoon with
the weekend newspapers, which easily rival the weight of many main Sunday
papers, available here in Sydney on Saturdays. Lots of supplements to these
publications, with tons of advertising. It oils the wheels of commerce,
advertising; some might think there’s too much of it in Australia, I know
I do. Not to mention the amount of wood they consume, these newspapers.
For the afternoon I busied myself making Moussaka for dinner, which went
down a treat.
Monday 10th January
Disaster struck in the shape of my
back tooth which began to throb again overnight. Consulted a local medical
centre who prescribed me anti-biotics for the infection. Hope that holds
it until April when I can see my own dentist at home. I have decided tomorrow
is moving day, I’ve a long trip to make and must be about my travelling!
click the flower to journey further