This the third segment of our travels around Oz, we have returned from the UK and Ireland and make our way from Darwin to Bondi.

Return to Oz

15 July 2009

We arrived back from the UK less than three weeks ago, flying into Darwin exactly one year to the day from when we departed Brisbane for our Big Trip around Oz. At first I thought I was having hot flushes but soon realised that it was just the effects of the +34C temperature and high humidity causing my discomfort. We were not surprised to discover the winter here to be hotter than Britain's summer, but we hadn’t expected it to be still so humid.

Ancient Aboriginal Rock Art

As luck would have it, our dear friends Eva and Sam chose that week to visit Darwin and we shared many happy hours with them and in return they shared, with us, a great big Barramundi, skilfully caught by Sam and expertly barbequed by Eva. The homeless man, who occupied the picnic shelter at Mindil Beach, when it wasn’t overrun by hungry tourists, also benefited from the Gerber's generosity and slept on a full stomach that night.

With Eva and Sam

After retrieving our Landcruiser from storage and picking up our freshly repaired caravan in Darwin, (sorry, I may have omitted the details of our close encounter with a picnic shelter at a free camp enroute to Darwin...Shelter - 1, caravan awning - 0), we headed into Kakadu National Park for a week, enjoying the relatively low humidity and warm sunny days, bathing in crystal clear plunge pools above and below fast flowing waterfalls. Doing so we have ticked off another one of the things in the book my mate Al gave me; "1000 Things to See Before You Die."  We  ticked off nearly a dozen in the UK & Ireland. However I did leave some for next time as I am afraid if I tick everything off there will remain only one option, and I'm not ready for that one just yet.

Having returned to the wide brown land of my birth, after our sojourn in Great Britain, the contrast between the two countries has become all the more obvious. For the past five days, since departing Katherine, we have travelled over 1,300km across dry, barren plains. In that time we have only passed two settlements, Elliott, home to less than 500 souls and Camooweal, home to a smidgen over 300, we have camped at the odd Telstra Hilton and various other free camps along the way. If it weren't for the hundreds of fellow nomads (in varying shades of grey), umpteen road trains that come barrelling down the highways at break-neck speeds, and a scattering of roadhouses, where they feel obliged to charge an arm and a leg and your first-born child for fuel, we wouldn't have seen another living soul for days on end.

In the UK, the same distance took us from one end of England, through the other and into Scotland, passing half a dozen industrial cities, scores of towns and more than a handful of quaint villages.  We saw surprisingly few dead kangaroos by the roadside in the UK, virtually none in fact. Once I thought I saw one, but it was probably just a badly mangled deer. We found almost no free camps. The British have a phobia about Gypsies and block access to any suitable would-be free campsites.

We are currently in the Isa (Mount Isa; once the mining capital of Australia), and staying at the Copper City Caravan Park, previously known as the River View Caravan Park, but today there is little evidence of the river, bar a dried up gully full of weeds. To get there, turn off the highway at Sulphide Street, left into West, then past the Mineral Lodge Motel.  Did I mention this was the mining capital of Australia?

From here we will continue on our journey eastwards to Townsville on the east coast and then onto Hervey Bay, whale-watching capital of Queensland. We have booked an apartment and are looking forward meeting up with our dear friends from Sydney, Miriam and Ze'ev. It will be a welcome respite from our hectic schedule of aimlessly meandering around the country (tough job etc, etc.). We are in need of a little R&R and hope to do a spot of WW (whale watching) too. From there it's just a hop, skip & a jump to Brisbane and we anticipate being back on home soil by September some time. Not that we actually have a spot of soil to return to; looks like we're in for a bout of house hunting or perhaps we could simply couch surf at our son's; wouldn't he just love that?

Hervey Bay

8 August 2009

One hot summer’s day in July 1974, I arrived in Israel as an adventurous 17-year-old. On my first day in Tel Aviv I survived almost being run over as I discovered, the hard way, that in Israel they drive on the right hand side of the road, after stepping out into the path of an oncoming car. Lucky for me the quick reactions of the driver and his loud horn alerted me to the imminent danger and I jumped back onto the sidewalk and escaped with my life.

My second brush with danger came only hours later in the form of a taxi driver, whilst he didn’t attempt to run me over, he did try to take me for a ride. I barely escaped his clutches with my virtue in tact, well what was left of it. En-route from Tel Aviv to Kibbutz Ramat Hashofet he was incessant with his indecent proposals. And all that from such an old man; he must have been at least 35….eeeeyeuw.

Eventually I arrived unscathed and was duly directed to the office of Shlomo Ben-Aaron. Upon hearing that I was from Australia, he proudly announced that his younger daughter, Miriam, was to wed an Aussie named Ze’ev in a few weeks time.

I danced at their wedding on 6 August 1974, just two days after Miriam’s 25th birthday. Almost exactly 12 months later Haim and I wed and a few months after the wedding whilst on holiday in Australia we renewed our friendship with Miriam and Ze’ev who were now living in Sydney.

One sunny day in May 1976 while travelling together to the Royal National Park to partake in the great Aussie past time; a barbecue, Miriam confided in me that she was ‘with child’ to which I replied, “ me too!”  That December we both delivered healthy sons. Miriam gave birth on a summer’s day in Sydney. Three weeks later, on a winter’s day in Israel I followed suit. We have both since produced a second son each.

For more than 35 years we have remained close friends. We have witnessed each other’s boys grow into mature men and attended their respective weddings. And though we have rarely lived in the same city, or even country, for more than a few consecutive years, we have never been more than a phone call away.

(from left) Hubby, Mirriam, me & Ze'ev

This week we had the pleasure of meeting up again in Hervey Bay. We spent four days together at the Whale Cove Resort. Although it has been over 22 years since we left Sydney it was as if we had never been apart.

Hervey Bay offers a myriad of activities to thrill. We spent our second day together on a catamaran in the bay, whale watching, and were rewarded with a very playful pair of Humpbacks cavorting in front of us for over an hour and a half.

On 4 August we celebrated Miriam’s 60th birthday. A perfect Queensland day ensured our breakfast on the bay afforded stunning blue-sky views to Fraser Island. That evening I booked the entire Gataker Restaurant at Point Vernon for our dinner. Okay, maybe I exaggerate. I can’t take credit for having the whole restaurant to our selves. Perhaps the global financial crisis was to blame for the down turn in business, but whatever the reason we were well attended and the meal was delicious.

On Thursday this week, on their 35th wedding anniversary, we parted company with the promise to make Sydney a destination on our around Australia map in the not too distant future.

But first we are headed to our next destination; Fraser Island. 

Fraser Island

22 August 2009

With an area of 7.69 million square kilometres, over twice that of Europe, mainland Australia is the largest island on Earth.

Located just off the East Coast of southern Queensland, lies the World Heritage listed Fraser Island, the largest sand island on Earth with sand deposits up to eight million years old. It measures more than 123 kilometres in length and reaches 25 kilometres at its widest point.

We recently spent a couple of days camping on Fraser Island. The weather was perfect and we enjoyed warm sunny days bathing in Lake McKenzie and picnicking by Lake Boomanjin – which, at 190 hectares in area, is the largest perch lake on Earth. There are no paved roads on Fraser, just rough sand tracks, and as such we had to leave the caravan on the mainland and camp rough, sleeping in the back of our Landcruiser. The nights were quite cool; this is, after all, winter in Australia though we are sometimes hard pressed to remember when the average daily temperatures are usually at least 10 degrees warmer than those we encountered in the UK's summer.

Camping on Fraser Island

Stuck smack bang in the middle of the largest island on Earth is the largest rock on Earth, Uluru; the "Rock formerly known as Ayers Rock"...till 1987. It's the largest freestanding rock monolith on Earth. A 348-m high sandstone monolith, it has a circumference at its base of 9.4km and that’s just the bit we can see. Like an iceberg, it is reputed to be showing us just the tip with the largest portion still buried several kilometres deep in the red sand of central Australia.

At 8km long, 3km wide and 858 metres high and in total 1105 metres above sea level Mt Augustus is twice the size of Uluru and is visible from 100km away. Set in Western Australia, the largest state on the largest island on Earth, Mt Augustus is the largest Monocline on Earth.  On 3 June 1858 Francis Gregory became the first European to climb the Mountain. He named it after his brother Sir Augustus Charles Gregory.
 
Perhaps it is because we are used to the immense scale of Australia, but on the largest island in the world we Australians love to see big things. Travelling around this big country there are such delights to ogle at as the big banana, the big peanut, the big pineapple, the big prawn and the big avocado to name just a few. In Rockhampton, beef capital of Australia they love their big bull. It’s a giant Brahman that stands proudly in the middle of a roundabout at the entrance to the town. The only problem is people love it so much they keep stealing the big bull’s big balls. To keep the “family Jewels” from bring nicked they have had to resort to welding them on.

As we have traversed the largest island on Earth we have encountered many record-breaking events. While in South Australia this January they recorded the hottest January on 70 years. In Western Australia in April we encounter the worse black fly plague in living memory. This week we return home to Brisbane after 14 months on the road and the Bureau of Meteorology is predicting 33 deg C this Monday that will make it the hottest August day in recorded history. Figures!  

I 8 2 X S = O B C T

1 October 2009

Since returning to Brisbvegas a tad over five weeks ago our cholesterol levels have sky rocketed and our waistlines ballooned, due primarily to our hectic social calendar. We have been inundated with invitations. Fortuitously we returned in time to celebrate Brisbane Riverfire on the terrace of our friend’s penthouse in New Farm, Jewish New Year at the home of our dearest friends in Tarragindi, various WIZO charity functions around town and a myriad of other excuses to ‘meet, greet and eat’. It would appear our friends are happy to see us back though I expect by the time we depart again, they will be happy to see our backs.

I’d do anything to get out of cooking in the caravan and on a recent expedition to find a really authentic Chinese food we happened upon this great new phenomenon called "Red Hut". We were thrilled when we walked in the door and discovered the place full of Chinese patrons; usually a sign of authentic Chinese cuisine. Unfortunately we did not appear to be of the right ethnicity and were presented with an Anglo menu: Very disappointing. When will Chinese restaurants learn that many people go there, not to order 'sweet and sour pork' and 'beef in black bean sauce', but REAL Chinese food. We resorted to asking the patrons of an adjacent table what they had ordered and told the waiter, whose command of the English language was found seriously wanting; "We’ll have what they’re having". We were not disappointed, though some people with delicate pallets might be advised to take a fire extinguisher along. The reference to RED in the name is a direct clue to the main ingredient in most of the dishes: Chilli and lots of it.

Another good source for a free lunch is the Red Cross Blood Bank. As a blood donor I have also taken the time to donate again for the first time since departing Brisbane and scored a hot chocolate and sausage rolls…. Although not quite free; I did pay with my blood.

Our calendar has also been filled with other medical appointments. We are taking the opportunity while in civilisation to have all manner of medical and dental check ups and in doing so have had every conceivable orifice poked and prodded, teeth filled and cleaned, blood test taken, and found to be healthy and fit to continue travelling.

After being on the road for 14 months, it was great to return home; not that we have an actual house to return to, we sold that before departing. But Brisbane still feels like home even though, at first, something didn't quite feel right; a bit like going away then coming home to find someone has moved all your furniture around. The city has grown and new buildings and bridges have sprung up all over town.

It was a novelty at first, but the reality of staying in one place for so long is now grinding on our nerves. We want to escape the trailer trash stigma and return to our life on the road. Though if we must stay anywhere for an extended period of time then the Newmarket Gardens Caravan Park in Ashgrove, where we are currently ensconced, has the distinct benefit of being conveniently located just around the corner from Domino’s Pizza and Tuesdays are $5.90 pizza day. It is also very close to public transport and during the last five weeks I have taken more busses than in the whole 15 years we lived in Brisbane. The new bus ways constructed around Brisbane have made the trip into town much faster though there is still need to improve the reliability of the Brisbane Public Transport System. On several occasions the scheduled bus either didn’t arrive at all or arrived so late it turned up after the next service scheduled to arrive 15-20 minutes later.

Next week we are moving to Tarragindi. Our good friends are travelling overseas and we have volunteered to house sit and take care of their pooch, an over sexed Maltese Terrier with an unnatural attraction to my right leg. It will be great to have a whole house to ourselves even if it does means wearing a cricket pad on my right leg for 6 weeks.

The Death of Comedy

Recently an Australia TV show, “Hey, Hey it’s Saturday”, made two reunion special episodes. After first appearing on our sets in the early 1970’s, “Hey, Hey” became staple viewing for millions of families every Saturday night.  The show was axed ten years ago and from the response by the audience and the record ratings of these two recent episodes it would appear that it has been sorely missed and most Aussies would love to see it returned to its regular time slot every Saturday night.

A favourite segment on the show was “Red Faces”, where members of the public appeared on TV in a type of a talent quest and made complete fools of themselves. Nine times out of ten it is more a ‘lack of talent quest’ but it was all done in the spirit of comedy and most people got a laugh out of it. The great Aussie past time of ‘taking the mickey out each other’ (I think the Americans would call this “a roasting”) is generally up held and only wowsers complain if they are the targets. It happens on many Australian TV shows; we Aussies are renown for being a bunch of larrikins. Most people across the globe are already well aquatinted with the antics of another such show “Chaser’s war on everything”.

This week a decision was made to broadcast a parody where 5 guys impersonated the Jackson 5 and one chap impersonated Michael Jackson. Unfortunately none were of African decent. One was of Italian decent, one was of Lebanese decent and the rest were Indians (from the country India, as opposed to the Indians the Americans all but wiped out years ago). As such they were forced to blacken their faces and wear black ‘afro’ wigs to look like the Jackson Five. Thus began an international furore. It would appear that there is some law against impersonating African Americans, one that, I am afraid, is not reciprocated by those delicate African Americans. They are free to impersonate whomever they desire.

Eddie Murphy impersonated an old Jewish barber in the film Coming to America? He whitened his face, using make up to change the colour of his skin, stuck a large nose on his face and wore a wig to complete his impersonation. In fact many people were not even aware it was Eddie Murphy until the credits rolled and I don’t recall his performance incurring the wrath of the Jewish population of any country on Earth.

In the Movie ‘White Chicks’ not only do Marlon and Shawn Wayans don white makeup but they also slip into some skimpy skirts and stuff their bras to degrade females by portraying stereotypical dumb blondes. They successfully demean not only whites but also females and I don’t recall anyone on ‘The View’ airing their disgust over this travesty of justice.

Millions of Elvis impersonators world wide use make up and wigs to make themselves look more like the real thing because…and here’s where I’m going to get really controversial, an impersonator wants to look like the person the are impersonating. 

Some time ago a Japanese chap impersonated Louis Armstrong. From all accounts his rendition of “a beautiful world” was impeccable. Unfortunately his performance was marred by a bunch of wowsers calling foul. How many actors have impersonated Japanese and Chinese by applying make up and tape to give their eyes an Asian slant. How many Asians have caused a ruckus in protest over this travesty of justice?  And what about drag queens? Should we women call for the closure of all drag shows? I mean how degrading is it to women to see these guys donning make up and wigs to make themselves look like women?

Listen America! Get over it! It’s not all about you! Get a life. We want to laugh with you not at you.

Americans are such hypocrites! Who wrote the law against impersonating African Americans? It is not being reciprocated. Eddie Murphy impersonated an old Jewish barber in the film Coming to America? He whitened his face and wore big nose and a wig to look Semitic. I don’t recall this incurring the wrath of the Jewish population. And what about ‘White Chicks’? That movie demeaned whites and women? Listen America; Get over it! It’s not all about you! Read more here http://www.susan.com.au/blog

There was a lack of talent in this skit but I am sure that racism was not the intent. It was performed in Australia for an Australian audience, not American. We do not have a heritage of enslaving Africans and did not grow up with the racism they were subject to. Most the guys in this skit were Indians. They themselves have been subject to racism at the hands of the British. Nearly all Australians are only first or second generation from immigrant parents and more tolerant than most nations.

Ode to the House-sitter

17 November 2009

While you enjoyed your travels abroad
Your house-sitters were never bored
We watered the lawns and mowed the grass
Dusted the shelves and polished the brass
And turned your engine over.

We swept the floors and beat the mat
And fed the bird and scratched the cat
We kept their bowls all full of feed
And walk your dog until he peed
and scooped the poop of Rover.

We put out the trash & collected the mail
And answered your phone without fail.
We cleaned the mirrors on the walls
And never make long distance calls
And most the time were sober

We collected the eggs and fed the chooks
And put clean towels upon the hooks.
When it’s due, we’ll meet your plane
And drive you home to keep you sane
Thus ends our life in clover.

We’ll miss our home away from home
Though maybe not the garden gnome.
We really have enjoyed our stay
We’ll keep in touch until the day
You need our help all over.

“Grass” Roots Living

25 November 2009

High in ... uhh, I mean from Nimbin, the counter-culture capital of Australia. Before the early 1970’s this was just a sleepy, little farming town. To the bemusement of the conservative local community it was catapulted into the psychedelic era as hoards converged on this peaceful, rural paradise when Australia’s universities held their combined Aquarius Arts Festival on the green slopes around the town. With cheap, fertile land abounding, Nimbin became a magnet for the disillusioned youth of Australia’s major cities looking to tune in and drop out. It quickly became an incubator for a communal society that aimed to get back to grass roots living.

In my early teens I dreamed of buying a Kombi or panel van, painting flowers on the side and heading to Nimbin. Unfortunately, at the time, I was too young to qualify for a driver’s licence let alone the resources necessary to purchase the vehicle. By the time I was old enough my life had taken a different direction. I chose instead to travel the world, get married, raise a family and have a career. Now 40 years later, as an aging Grey Nomad, I have finally found my way to Nimbin.
 
Today the alternate population of Nimbin is older and a tad on the saggy side, their pony tails thinner and greyer, their tattoos drooping. The hippies of the 1970’s have not aged gracefully. With a permanent population of 1,100, Nimbin has, on any given day, a transient population of at least double that, made up predominantly of foreign tourists and old yuppies in Birkenstocks trying to recapture their miss spent youth. Most of the inhabitants who are under 50 seem to be German back-packers. I presume majority of the second generation Nimbinites have grown up, moved back to the capital cities and become stockbrokers and corporate lawyers. Such is the law of nature that most young people want to do the complete opposite of their parents.

As we meandered along Cullen Street unmistakable fumes permeated the environment. It is possible to get high just by sitting, long enough, in any one of Nimbin many cafes. I suspect that when Thunderclap Newman penned the title to his anthem for a generation of baby boomers, “Something in the Air”, it may very well have been Nimbin he was writing about. Beware; when someone offers to sell you a pot plant; it may not an African Violet you depart with.

As the afternoon drew to a close we watched a couple of aging hippies attempting to play a game of chess while their heads were all but obscured by a haze of fragrant smoke. It’s very hard to know who wins such a game while stoned. Not that I would know, I’m taking a leaf from Bill Clinton and claiming to never have inhaled…but as we all now know, Bill’s grasp on reality left a lot to be desired.

Back to Bondi

28 December 2009

I have come full circle. Last week we took up residence in a unit on Hall Street, just a hop, skip and jump from my old stomping ground, Bondi Beach. We are house sitting for Mary, a lovely lady who has left us in charge of her unit while she is overseas for a couple of weeks attending her son’s wedding.

During my youth, before melanoma was in my vocabulary, I whiled away many hours sunbaking at South Bondi, frying myself to a crisp. Lathered in coconut oil, I lay oggling the bronzed Aussies, strutting their stuff in their designer ‘ budgie smugglers’ (Speedos). This was back in the days when my white pointers still looked heavenwards, now they’ve just gone to Hell. Gravity sucks! 

Like most Aussies of my generation, I had travelled the world before I had seen my own backyard. In the last 18 months we have discovered than this wide, brown land is not just the most varied and beautiful but indeed has some of the most dramatic landscapes on earth. The world renowned Bondi, supposedly the most famous beach in Australia, is not indicative of the wonders this land holds. Within a radius 160km of Sydney, where I spent the best part of my first 30 years, are places, that until now, I had never seen before. I had visited every continent on Earth but I had never been to Newcastle or Jenolan Caves.

Since departing Nimbin we have slowly meandered down the coast stopping along the way at Port Stephens. A delightful region and now home to one of my late mother’s dearest friends, Leila. We spent a delightful day with her before continuing to Nelson Bay where, amongst other things, we made the time to climbed to the top of Tomaree Heads, to savour the view. A gazillion steps up, the effort was more than worth while, as it affords the most fantastic 3608 views over the Port Stephens and the surrounding coast line. My legs are yet to recover from the experience.

Two days later we entered Newcastle for the first time. Newcastle was Australia’s first commercial shipping port when in 1799 the first load of local coal was sent to Bengal. Once a penal colony, it was named Newcastle after England’s famous coal port and, it was transformed from coal city to steel city when BHP set up shop in 1915.

During my adolescence it was considered a typical dirty industrial city with steel mills billowing smog from towering chimneystacks. Not a holiday destination; it was always bypassed on our ventures north of Sydney. Still a coal exporting port, dozens of ships can be spotted, anchored off shore awaiting their turn to weigh anchor and take on board their load of coal before carrying off large chunks of Australia to foreign shores, tonne by sooty tonne. 

These days the town has acquired a more genteel facade. The old port area on Honeysuckle Drive has been transformed into a modern destination for yuppie meeting, greeting and eating. Some of the older neighbourhoods have been revamped and now command prices that rival some of the more affluent suburbs in Australia’s major cities.

From Newcastle we headed west along the Hawkesbury River and discovered some of the most beautiful views as the winding road weaved along the path of the river towards Windsor. We crossed the river at both the Wiseman’s Ferry and the Sackville Ferry where we camped overnight on the banks of the river with stunning sandstone cliffs as a back drop.

camping by the Hawkesbury River near Sakeville

We then headed for the hills and dragged our caravan up to Lithgow, mostly in first gear. We stopped along the way at some of the most magnificent lookouts over the Blue Mountains. The hike out to the cusp of the Grose Valley was rugged and steep and my leg muscles were aching by the time we returned but the views more than compensated for the discomfort.

looking out over the Grose Valley.

Next on our agenda were the Jenolan Caves. Though we have visited numerous limestone caves throughout the world, the best were right here within a couple of hours of Sydney all the time. They are so extensive that it would take weeks to see all that the caves have to offer. I can’t believe it’s taken me 52 years to see them. As one of Australia’s first major tourist attractions, Jenolan Caves have been tempting Australian’s to make the perilous journey down the narrow, winding road for generations. Although it is now sealed and we have replaced the horse and buggy with motorcars, the trip still poses threats particularly when icy conditions turn the road into a slippery dip. By the side of the road, only a few old rotting wooden posts strung together with wire mesh stands between the traveller and a drop of 100’s of metres down the sheer cliff face. I presume it is only there as an indicator as to where to start the search for the bodies should anyone inadvertently drive over the edge, as the barrier would certainly not hinder the path of anything more substantial than a child’s tricycle.

the visitor centre at Jenolan Caves

At the caves we decided to take two of the guided tours and one self guided tour. We explore the Orient Cave and Lucas Cave as well as the Devil’s Coach House and the Nettle Cave. After traipsing up and down 1774 steps in total my legs had turned to jelly. Lucky for me, my ever-thoughtful husband has come up with an exercise regime to help strengthen the muscles in my aching legs. Call me a sceptic, but I still don’t see how lying on my back with my legs in the air is really going to help tone up my leg muscles. 

inside Jenolan Caves