Tripod at the Metro

Last week we saw Tripod's Christmas show at the Metro. Tripod are a three piece comedy band, or a very funny three man rock band, or something like that. They are most famous for being on The Sideshow, which is on some Australian channel or other, and doing funny songs in an hour on Triple J.

Their support act was weird. Really weird. I liked him.

Tripod themselves performed a series of songs, some of which I'd heard before and some of which I hadn't. All were very funny indeed, regardless. This one is even funny without the music. But for me, the best bits were the bits between the songs. And during the songs in one case. A chap got up to use the lavatory, prompting a "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" from Gatesy (the middle one is called Gatesy, the one with the guitar is called Scod, and the shorter bald one is called Yon). He leapt off the stage and pulled him back to his seat. Makes for a good show.

At the end of their shows they tend to do a cover. Since it was Christmas, they brought on a lady vocalist and did "Fairytale of New York". Lovely!

The Music of John Williams, Sydney Opera House, Friday 30th Nov

John Williams writes a pretty nifty tune. Elissa managed to land two tickets for this, and I was pretty keen to go, but had been hogging the free tickets, so suggested she take her father. Then on the day, I had a change of heart, too late. I was all set to take the bus home as Elissa wandered off to meet her dad, but then I got a phone call. "Where are you?" "Waiting for the bus" "Can you get to the opera house in the next ten minutes?".

So wandering into the foyer of the Concert Hall, the three of us were beset on each side by R2 units. Not dwelling on this for too long, we went into the hall, and the Sydney Symphony opened with the fanfare from th 1984 Olympics. From then on, interspersed with bad jokes I would have been proud of, we had music from Superman, Jurassic Park, Schindler's List, ET, Close Encounters, Harry Potter, and briefly, Jaws and Psycho (the latter isn't a John Williams picture, but that shrill violin thing got a few seconds' airing anyway). The first half closed with some music from Indiana Jones.

Two things really struck me about this concert. Firstly, not having seen an orchestra play that often, I was surprised at just how loud it got, and just how deep the bass sounds were. I guess a hundred people can make a lot of noise, when they've spent their entire lives learning how. Secondly was just how vividly the images that go with the music came to mind. You could see ET and Elliot flying round the top of the concert hall, and the T-Rex leaping out behind the orchestra. Indy might has well have been swinging on the doughnuts (they have big perspex things hanging from the roof to help reflect the sound) with a couple of owls hanging round for good measure.

During the interval, I passed Darth Vader in the area around my door, as I made my way to meet Elissa and her dad. "There's a bunch of stormtroopers hanging round this side of the theatre". "I know - Darth Vader's just round the corner" I replied. So we set out to get as many photos as possible before we went back in. Sadly Darth was only stopping for photos with you if you were two pretty blonde girls. I am not two pretty blonde girls, so I settled for Boba Fett. As we aimed guns at each other I said "Now thousands of internet Star Wars geeks will be asking which of us shot first". He laughed politely... (By the way I'm not a huge Star Wars geek, I swear, I just spend too much time on the net not to pick up a few of these things).

Back in the concert hall, the lights go down until the hall is pitch black. Suddenly, with the accompanying noise, a light sabre is produced from the conductor's stand. As the lights go up, he puts it down and picks up his baton, to a quiet sigh of disappointment from a polite audience. As the Star Wars opening music dies down, Darth Vader enters the concert hall, proclaims he is the lead violinist's father, and insists that he will only spare the conductor's life if he continues to play music from Star Wars. Meanwhile, 5 stormtroopers post themselves at the foot of the stage. Music from all 6 films fills the rest of the show, the Imperial March getting the best reception. All in all, an excellent way to spend a few hours. I'm just glad I didn't end up with a seat at the front - those Stormtroopers looked pretty nasty!

Photos follow...

Party like it's 1997

There's something about the current political situation in Australia that feels eeerily familiar. A right-leaning party, with a remarkably boring frontman, has just been exchanged for a left leaning party called "Labor" (forgive the American spelling, they don't mean it) with a very media-savvy frontman. The right leaning party has been pulled up on interest rates and other issues with mortgage holders. The leader of the left party takes great pains to appear good-humoured, friendly and trustworthy, and appears on every available TV programme. Anyone who knows politicians can tell he's having to try very hard.

Throughout this whole process I find myself trying to remember why I liked the idea of Tony Blair taking over in '97, and why I now find the man, and his legacy in the Labour (note correct spelling) Party so distasteful now. I wait with anticipation to see if I hate Kevin Rudd as thoroughly in 10 years' time as I do Tony Blair now. If anyone can summarise a decade of political history in Britain for me in the comments I'd appreciate it. Maybe we can warn Australia when the right time could be to rid themselves of their new Tony. On the other hand, maybe Rudd and Australia have a bright future together, and Tony Blair is a problem for Britons alone. I hope so.

Bumper stickers

A month or so ago, I was in rural NSW, and saw a bumper sticker on an enormous Ute. It had a picture of Australia, followed simply by the words "Fuck off, we're full." Personally, I objected to this on several levels. One, a semicolon would have been more suitable than the comma. Two, Australia is not full. If you want to write "Fuck off, we're racists" on your car, that's your call, but to claim that a country the size of most of Europe, inhabited by 20 million people, is full is simply inaccurate. Three, the more obvious objection that it's not a nice thing to say. I also have this theory that it's the stupid people who have this attitude to immigration, as it's their jobs that are most likely to be taken by people unable to speak fluently the language of their new country. Good.

In defense of my adopted nation, Australians are not a bunch of racists. This was in rural NSW, and country folk all over the world excel themselves in being racists. Australia's population is, I would guess, about 95% urban, so the moron in the ute is in the minority. Doubtless people in Sydney would be perfectly entitled to tell him to fuck off, on account of them being full. Anyway, this isn't the point of this post.



Another popular bumper sticker I've seen is that "Shit happens" thing. It's wonderful that people are able to use two words to do so many things. One, to put a rude word on their car, cleverly disguised as part of a cunning slogan. Two, to demonstrate the limits of their sense of humour. Three, to demonstrate the broad apathy that led them to be driving such a shitheap in the first place.



A third bumper sticker I saw today is below.

I think this is a lot more subtle. I am still trying to establish whether it means 'It could save your life' in the context of 'Brake for concrete walls: It could save your life" or in the sense of "Break for medical researchers: It could save your life". Perhaps the moose produces some sort of chemical that has medical applications?

The Legend of Zelda - Mobile Game

I spent last night looking for interesting things to put on my phone. As well as a seemingly-full version of Sonic The Hedgehog from the Megadrive, some new themes where I can pretend my phone is broken/an aquarium/a surveillance satellite, and a bunch of other rubbish, I came across this. Someone in Sweden is taking the first Legend of Zelda game and transcribing it for Java. It seems to be screen-for-screen, monster-for-monster, item-for-item, but with much prettier graphics. Who needs a DS when you can do all this on a phone you've got already?! You can find a copy of the newest version here, if the original site doesn't work for you (it didn't for me, I think he's getting a lot of traffic) and he is planning a full version by the end of the year (currently it's only the first 6 dungeons and about two thirds of the map). Much more fun than Tetris or Columns, if you ask me, and they're the only other games that I've ever been able to control properly using stupid tiny little phone buttons.

I continue to marvel at the fact that we now carry around in our pockets devices with more computing power than those great big chunky computers with the big floppy discs that were the best you could get in the early 90's. And we use them to send each other messages like 'k b there soon cu bye.x' to people we'll see in 15 minutes.

The Plan

It's official - I'm leaving Sydney, and Australia, on 7th March, until which time I expect to be all over the place. There's short trips to Canberra and the Blue Mountains that really should have been made by now, and then in a broader sense, the following:

12th Nov - 22nd Dec - Sydney, mostly working with Red Kite.
22nd Dec-24th Jan - Up and down the East Coast to Brisbane, Townsville and back.
24th Jan - 16th Feb - Sydney again, with my parents here for much of that time.
17th-22nd Feb - Cairns with my parents.
23rd Feb-7th Mar - In Sydney, frantically packing and figuring out what to do with my life once I get back to Britain. Meanwhile, Mum and Dad see Uluru and Perth
7th-12th Mar - Singapore. Again, with my parents around for a while.
13th March. Return to the UK.

Elissa and I are figuring out where we should be at New Year. I'm strongly in favour of hanging around the NSW-QLD border, so we can celebrate twice, because of the time difference. Elissa is strongly in favour of Miami, because of the Will Smith tune of the same name.

This is just getting spooky now...*

Back in the UK, I worked on three or four main areas where I used to work. Firstly I worked with budgeting, and spreadsheet issues. Secondly, I organised direct mailing, and analysis by postcode of our customer base. Thirdly I extracted information on demand from out database, in a broader sense, and summarised it for managers.

Somehow I've managed to end up in a temporary role incorporating all of these things. In fact, incorporating all of them in the last 24 hours! I'm half-expecting them to get me onto writing the newsletter next, or setting up an office fish-tank. And I'll be sure to send out an email to people on Friday, suggesting we all go for a drink.

*I realise this is a very boring post, for anyone who has never heard me complain bitterly about my old job (and probably for those who have). I will try to be more interesting in my next post.

Melbourne and 'The race that stops a nation'

7.30am is no time to get on a 12 hour coach ride. 7.30pm on a Saturday, on the other hand, is a very pleasant time to get into a new city. I had foolishly left my passport and driving license in Sydney, and so was turned away by the hostel I had booked. "What's your passport doing in Sydney if you're in Melbourne?" asks the self satisfied hostel receptionist. Not much, I think, but instead make weak references to having merely forgotten it, as I hadn't planed to cross any national borders or work during my time in Melbourne. "Is this authentic photo ID enough?" No. "Can I pay some sort of additional deposit?" I asked, feeling like I was offering a bribe. No. "I mean, the alternative for me is sleeping on the streets". Silence. "Is there anything I can do?" No. I leave, and nearly thank her, but stop myself realising it would be inappropriate - I didn't mean it, and it would probably come across as sarcastic, which hindsight says she didn't deserve. They weren't her rules, and I could have beena bit more thorough when packing.

After a pretty shaky introduction to Melbourne, things can only get better. I phone Minka, who is planning to meet me after she's had dinner with her friends. I explain my situation. She says her spare room is mine to use until Tuesday. We meet, drink far too much in three different and excellent bars, and then head back to her mum's place in Richmond. I mention that I'm kind of glad I forgot my passport - it's a lovely house.

Even with a hangover, the MCG tour is very enjoyable, and a wander through the information centre tells me about museums, galleries, parks and so on. That evening is spent watching dreadful DVDs, as Minka is feeling worse than I am, and the following day, aside from buying my Melbourne Cup ticket, I visit the Victoria State Art Gallery (bringing the count to 4 - NSW, VIC, WA and the combined NT Gallery and Museum), and the botanical gardens. The weather clears just in time, and I spend an hour or so surrounded by native and imported plants, and pretty laked, jam-packed with eels. Minka and I head to an Italian restaurant for dinner, which Minka occasionally works at, and so we receive lots of attention, additional wine, and a reduction on the bill. And a general assumption by all the staff that we're dating, which Minka quickly corrects. I say something insulting about Monty Python's Live at the Hollywood Bowl DVD, a foolish move. Minka quickly leaps to its defence and I try to remember some of the best bits, so as not to insult my extremely generous and gracious host.

Tuesday is cup day, and time to move out of Minka's mum's house. Bags are dragged down to South Yarra, and locked in the dorm room of the Hotel Claremont. I jump on a train and head to Flemington, with no idea what to expect. The sun is out again, it's a glorious day. I'm told this is unusual on Cup day. On entering, I'm queueing for an "I'm over 18" wristband that no one checks all day, when race 3 takes a turn for the worse. Two horses stumble, and while one gets up, the other is very badly injured. The gasp from the crowd is justified, and while I didn't see it for myself, I'm told by Wednesday's papers that the horse was put down where it lay on the track.

I've been set two challenges for the day; a photo of me with a horse, and a photo of me with a pretty girl. The latter seems pretty straightforward - on a big race day, Flemington is clearly bulging at the seams with beautiful women in beautiful hats and dresses. The former will be more of a challenge, as the recent outbreak of horse flu in New South Wales and Queensland means all measures are being taken to keep the public at arm's length from the racing stock. I check in with Elissa. A photo of me with a statue or other representation of a horse will do. I manage both challenges later in the day, beer being a wonderful social lubricant, and no racecourse being complete without some sort of horse themeing, beyond the live ones.

The few punters I talked to were betting with the green $100 notes (worth about 40GBP) and had lost a few of them. My grandfather's advice to me, when betting on horses, was "keep your money", and he should know. It seems rude not to bet on the big races though, when you're there in person. I would definitely throw a few pounds at the Grand National, for example. I bet $10. Predictably, I lost $10, although Purple Moon was a whisker away from winning the cup, which would have put me $15 up!

By the time the Cup arrives at 3pm, incidentally, I am sick of hearing the phrase "The race that stops a nation". Having seen Australians gamble serious money on everything from electronic poker machines to the flip of a coin, and having seen statistics on how much of a problem this can be, I would go as far as to suggest that the nation stopping for a horse race might be a poor reflection on the nation, not a good one on the race. That said, I have an excellent time, and the cheer from the crowd when race 7 starts is worth the $50 entry alone. All the people gambling around me have fun too, no matter how much they lose, so maybe it's unfair to try to take the moral high ground. I gambled too, after all. And the betting shops back home are all full on National day

After race 9 or so, I'm ready to head back into town, and out of the sun, so I check in with a few people. Minka is going home, having had plenty of fun already. Bianca is in a pub somewhere north of the city so I head that way. A couple of hours of catching up, and conversation about validating Metro tickets in your own slot, and an incident involving a feminine hygiene product (unused) and someone's pint of beer later, and it's time to go home. I sleep very well, as I usually do after 9 hours' drinking...

Wednesday was museum day, namely the Melbourne Museum in Carlton Gardens and the Scienceworks Museum in Spotswood. I recommend the Scienceworks museumheartily to anyone under 13 years old. That's all I'll say. Melbourne Museum was good though.

Thursday began with meeting Bianca again, for coffee as originally planned. I explored Prahran a bit first, stumbling upon the market and a couple of book shops, and killed half an hour waiting (my fault, I was ages early), reading The Wah Wah Diaries by Richard E Grant. We had coffee and fruit toast, chatted a lot about Abel & Cole and people we met there, and then went our seperate ways. During coffee, Reiko (from the Kakadu tour) had phoned, as she was in Melbourne for a few days. As I had planned to leave at 7pm that night, I phoned right back, and rushed into town to Victoria Markets. They closed at 2pm, so arriving at 1.45pm I thought I'd better take something in. Once everything began to shut down I called Reiko and we went for more coffee. I opted for a hot chocolate for my own well-being on the night bus to Sydney.

I spent an hour in the immigration museum, which is also worth a visit. It's another reminder of racial tension in Australia's history - and of course, where it was imported from. Informative and entertaining too, aside from those (rightly) more solemn exhibits. I chuckle slightly at the references to a senior figure in Melbourne's history with the surname Batman.

Then a quick circuit of the city on the free tram, and it's time to go home. Sydney I mean. Which is feeling more like home these days.

Party like it's 1994

Aside from some excellent karaoke last night, this weekend has largely been spent downloading old computer games that used to keep me entertained for hours when I was 14. Amazingly, people are still playing Doom, Transport Tycoon and others online. The latter even has people making realistic, country-specific graphic sets. Each to their own I guess.

The karaoke last night was great fun - I think ever since two karaoke sessions in Singapore, I've been hooked. At about 3.30am, when Elissa and Jackie were out of the room, some other people knocked on the door, as they'd been removed from theirs. "Come in!" I said, and they did. I even got accompaniment from one of them on Hall and Oates' Maneater. Elissa and Jackie were pretty surprised when they got back to a room full of people, but we all exchanged names, and went for a drink afterwards with our new friends. Then we came home, and sat on the balcony watching the sun rise through the mist over Randwick.

That's what I'm doing wrong...

Cartoon by Dave Walker. And the site I got it from referenced We Blog Cartoons.

Honestly...

At work last week, someone left some food out in the kitchen with a note "Please help yourselves". Everyone promptly did as instructed, and the food largely disappeared. I guess it might have been something to do with being a charity, but someone left a $5 note on the side, next to the food, maybe absentmindedly, maybe in payment. Either way, when all the food was gone, there was the note, and the notice. $5, with a note next to it saying "Please help yourself". How long do you think that would last?

Funnily enough, more than two days passed before both the note and the cash were cleared up. I like working for a charity.

In Rainbows free, but pirated anyway.

This story made me smile. Not only is Radiohead's new album available completely free of charge from their own site, but it's still been registered half a million times on peer-to-peer networks (though how they get these figures I've no idea).

I 'bought' it for free too. They've had a fair bit of cash out of me, and I know as soon as it's out on CD I'll go buy it, so I don't feel too guilty about not throwing a few quids thier way. I'll probably not download Oasis' and Jamiroquai's forthcoming free to download albums though, but not out of any moral feeling.

A good-natured whinge about the rugby.

Well, no one expected England to get that far, but they did, and they held their own in the final. I could moan about the disallowed try, but I think it looked out as well, by a fraction. I think we lost to a better team, a more consistent team, and I'm proud to be an England supporter (albeit one who couldn't be bothered to watch it live), which I wasn't when the tournament started.

What I want to moan about is that as soon as the final coverage was over (the 2pm repeat, I didn't have the energy for the Australian 4am start) the Aussie commentators started whining about the style of rugby England had adopted. Presumably Australians think that people are conspiring against them if they don't win a World Cup at least once every three times. There were calls for a 'more entertaining style of rugby', 'less rules', 'less emphasis on kicking' - anything that would have had them win their match against England, to my mind. Essentially, they were calling to make Union more like League, and to make it more rewarding for the Southern Hemisphere style of play (grown, in Australia, largely from an enthusiasm for League over Union). Read the engraving on the World Cup, the lineup of winners since 1987. Do the Southern Hemisphere really need any more help?

Tell me a bedtime story

Last night I had a dream I was at a Herbie Hancock concert, for some reason being held at a youth hostel in the middle of an enormous lake. I have a vague idea of who reads this, so I can say with confidence, most of you were there, and you seemed to enjoy the music. Oddly, Ed Feast, a friend of mine from Grantham, was the featured pianist, rather than the named artist. Herbie was using his guitar-keyboard-thingy mostly. Afterwards, Herbie and I were sailing a dinghy, and I asked if he'd let me come over to the US some time and jam with him, Lionel Loueke, and the rest of his band. "I know the bassline to Chameleon and everything". He said "No way, man!" which on reflection, is probably what he would say in real life.



It's odd. Last time, indeed the only time, I saw Herbie play, I was generally speaking buried in Access queries and spreadsheets with no idea of how to escape. A few days later, (5 days to be precise) I decided to escape here, to Australia. Right now, I'm working for a company who asked for a data entry clerk and got me. As a result of a little problem-solving and time-saving I've been doing for them, I'm buried in Access queries and spreadsheets again, largely of my own free will. So maybe, in a roundabout way, the dream was trying to tell me I was actually quite happy being buried in Access and Excel problems, and that despite moving to the other side of the planet, I seem to have sought out more of the same. Or maybe that's far too tenuous a connection and, as usual, I'm thinking about things too much.



Either way, it was just nice to be on a sailing boat with one of my favourite musicians.

I like my coffee like I like my women - covered in Bogongs!

At the moment, most of Sydney is covered in Bogong Moths. Initially I had confused conversation about Bogongs for conversation about Vogons, and later, Bogans, but I caught up in the end. These things get everywhere. The air is thick with them in certain parts of town, you could wave a big net and catch a hundred at a time. One office issued a memo, reportedly, telling its employees not to yawn outside the building.

We have found some entertainment in this, though. Every evening, Scampina, Elissa's cat, chases a moth round the living room, and then eats it. She's a pretty pathetic hunter, and like most cats, tends to play with her prey. She still hasn't figured out that when you let flying prey go, it flies away, and you have to wait half an hour for it to land near the floor again. Entertainment value aside, the more moths in the living room, the more exercise the cat gets, and because she tends to sleep better after exercise, which means she doesn't get up early and miaow at the bedroom door from 5am, the more sleep I get. So the more Bogongs the better, I say.

Temping in Australia - I feel good!

I'm on to my third temping assignment at the moment, and in many ways my favourite.

The first assignment was a day's work in Adobe InDesign, laying out a report for a teacher's association. Teachers are usually represented as overworked, underpaid and underresourced. The general mood in that office was pretty grumpy and sarcastic.

The second assignment was four months with a financial services company in the CBD. I was calling people and inviting, and at times demanding, payment for overdue invoices. The atmosphere in the office was relaxed but, being a finance department, still efficient. I met some great people, and despite a few difficult clients, had a good time.

Now I'm working for a cancer charity, doing data entry and random Excel and Access tasks. There's a great atmosphere in the office, with the sort of people you'd expect to work for a good cause rather than a big pay packet, and while there's still some gentle pressure, there isn't the same demand you get from working for a business. I think I shall find a charity to work for when I get home.

On an unrelated note, today we failed to get tickets for Big Day Out in Sydney, meaning we failed to get the opportunity to see Rage Against the Machine and Bjork perform in Centennial Park. I suspect we may try to get in by fouler means though, whether fence jumping or volunteering. And there's still a chance to see the show in Queensland, where everyone is reportedly a bit slower. Hopefully that means it won't sell out as quickly.

Kakadu and Litchfield tour - 26th-28th September

On Monday night, Michele and I were having a quiet drink. She said she was thinking of moving hostels, as the YHA hadn't been all that great, so I showed her round Melaleuca, and after she'd seen rooms, toliets and general facilities, we decided to sample the bar. In the bar at about 8pm we met Mark, a construction worker from Basingstoke, who hasn't been in Australia for the last three or four years, according to his visa status. Mark had been in the hostel for a few weeks, and seemed to spend every night indulging heavily in Darwin's favourite pastime, yet incredibly he made it to work every day at 6am sharp. Aware that I had to be up at 5.45 to catch my tour at 6.30am, I took that as a reassurance. At 11.30pm, and after several of the blue beers, and some of the yellow ones, I decided it was really time to go, so checking Michele was ok with our new friend, I staggered to bed. At 5.45am I realised I'd made something of an error, but by then there was nothing I could do, so I stumbled downstairs and slumped into my seat at the back of the tour bus.

Swimming in clear rockpools surrounded by greenery, in cool, fresh water is the best hangover cure I've ever tried. By 11am when we'd left Florence falls, I was as clear headed as if I'd gone to bed at 8pm with a mug of cocoa. Buley waterhole had much the same effect, and I went into the afternoon feeling much better. Our time in Litchfield was pretty brief, but in one morning we took in the magnetic termite mounds (all of which run north-south, and look a bit like gravestones) as well as the two waterfall systems above. While Litchfield doesn't have quite the same drama as Kakadu, it's all so much closer together that if you're up here and pushed for time, I'd definitely recommend it over its more famous counterpart.

The afternoon of the first day was spent on a cruise of the Mary River Wetlands. Jason, our guide for the cruise, told us humans had been around for 250,000 years, and that the crocodiles in the river had remained unchanged for close to 250 million years. He said he liked to think of this area as his own Jurassic Park. Aside from the crocs, one of which gave us a bit of a shock when it threatened to try to eat the boat, we saw sea eagles, cranes, wallabies, wild pigs and unusually, this buffalo. We were told that people pay $6,000 for tours by plane and boat to find buffalo to photograph, so I took quite a few photos. I reckon I must have saved myself about $100,000 in all.

Kakadu took up all of the second and third days, and we saw Jim Jim Falls, Maguk, Ubirr and the cultural centre. Driving to Jim Jim Falls is definitely a job for a tour guide though, as we had to rescue one 4wd on the way in and another on the way out. The 10km on almost impassable terrain was worth it though. The cliffs of the rock pool towered 150m above us, and the water was deep and clear, and full of fish. It's a shame that the falls dry up at the end of the dry season - following rain in the last few days they're probably running now - but Jim Jim Walls was just as spectacular.

Maguk, on the last day, was a real treat. A series of three rock pools cut deep into the rock, with a tall waterfall at the end, this was the only one where Steve, our tour guide, actually swam as well, and one of his favourite spots in the park. In the first pool, there was a hole in the rock above one side, where you could access a smaller pool from above. The only way out, though, was under the rock, two or three metres under the water. Swimming in and out of there was probably the most challenging swim I've done in a decade, though that's more a reflection on me than the swim. With any luck I'll have had more practice by the time my parents take me to the reef.

On the way home we encountered a few showers - the first rain for some parts of the Top End since July. The lady at the digeridoo shack said they'd had rain a month ago, but just cause they get rain doesn't mean people 400m to the north get it. The digeridoo shack was an experience too, with snakes and birds for people to hold and be photographed with. The galah was rather badly behaved. "They're very destructive birds in nature," the lady said, "Any time he bites people they sort of laugh nervously, and he's heard it so much that now when he bites people's fingers he laughs at them as well!" And he did, as several of the tour found out. The snake was very popular too.

Back in Darwin I discovered my hotel room had five beds in it, which was a nice surprise. It also meant I had 6 spare towels, but I've been well behaved and not brought them all home with me.

Darwin - 22nd-29th September

Darwin has a population of about 80,000 people, which I'm pretty sure makes it Australia's smallest state capital. Naturally, as such and as capital of Australia's most rural administrative area, (Northern Territory is a Territory, not a State, thus the convoluted nomenclature,) it has a different character to the cosmopolitan, latte-sipping cities I've experienced so far. On facebook, I may have commented that there was a certain irony in naming the most backward Australian capital Darwin, but that's something I take back. Darwin being so small, the transient backpacker population here is proportionally larger and more visible than other cities I've seen so far, which is bound to make people seem a bit ape-like here. To make a sweeping generalisation, backpackers are drunken, sex-crazed morons, and while I approve of the adjectives in moderation, the noun is not something I'll tolerate. All of the proper Territorians I've met in Darwin have been charming, friendly people, and most keep their knuckles well off the ground.

I visited the Botanical Gardens and the Northern Territory Museum and Art Gallery on my first day here, and wandered back through Mindil Beach where the famous markets are held. With the exception of the excellent Cyclone Tracy exhibit in the museum, all were pleasant but unremarkable. This is more than I can say for the weather on both counts. It hovers at about 34C, and never less than 40% humidity at this time of year, which was all a bit much. Most of the day was spent trying to find air conditioning, or sitting in the shade. The photo on the left here is of the witchety grub, and its resulting moth, from the museum. They're much bigger than I thought - you could probably get a decent meal out of two of them.

Cyclone Tracy is one of several major events that have shaped Darwin's history. Having established itself as a decent sized town, Darwin received more bombs from the Japanese than Pearl Harbour, in February 1942. this destroyed much of the town, and it was assumed it was a preamble to a land invasion. The events were actually kept relatively quiet from the rest of Australia, for fear panic would do much of the Japanese forces' work for them. The land invasion never came, and by 1974, Darwin was thriving again, only to be hit by the strongest winds ever recorded on mainland Australia, in the form of Cyclone Tracy. Winds of 217km/h were recorded at the airport, before the anemometer broke (which I think deserves another 10km/h or so for effort). The museum has exhibits dealing with much of this, particularly the cyclone. The most striking part is the pitch-black room, where you are played the sound recording of the cyclone. Sweetheart the crocodile drove home exactly what you'd be dealing with if you swam in the wrong place in Kakadu too.

One thing you shouldn't miss in Darwin is the Mindil Beach Sunset Markets. Lots of food stalls, beautiful sunsets over the Timor Sea, arts and craft stalls and entertainment too. As well as various digeridoo based bands (usually white guys) and a couple of aboriginal guitarists playing Bon Jovi tunes (the wrong way round, surely?) there was a juggler who was more of a stand-up comedian. "Juggling" he said, and juggled three flaming clubs. "New Zealand juggling" he said, putting the clubs on the floor, and swapping them from side to side. "Oh, sorry, that's not fair on any Kiwis here is it?" he conceded. "I'll do it slower". The finale was him doing a backflip off the roof rack of his van onto the tarmac below. "Oh shit...Normally I do this on grass" he told us "but this morning I ran out". Pause for laughter. "No, I'm just kidding. I never run out".

This morning, I checked out of a hotel (I treated myself) and asked if they minded me using the hotel pool and TV lounge, as I'd done everything I wanted to do in Darwin. He said that was fine, but also commented "The pub opens in twenty minutes". Having seen most of the town on the first day here, that's pretty much how I've spent the rest of the time in Darwin, and it seems to be the most popular pastime up here. Apparently the average Territorian drinks half as much again as the average Australian, and to be fair, the average Australian likes a drink or two. I now have 12 hours to kill in Darwin, so I imagine I'll be dropping into a bar or two later.

The Ghan - 20th and 21st September

The Afghan Express was the name affectionately given to the camel trains that used to be Alice Springs' only connection to the outside world, and so when the rail link to Adelaide was finally completed, it adopted the same name. Australians, though, are remarkably lazy when it comes to words with more than two syllables (for example, aggro, ambo, arvo, bikey, beaut, and that's just from the beginning of the alphabet), and so they shortened it over time, until the train is now simply called the Ghan. It's pronounced to rhyme with can, though most British and some Australians pronounce it to rhyme with barn, quite understandably. The company that runs the train reverses the usual trend for abbreviation, insisting on calling the train The Legendary Ghan at every opportunity. Presumably the only reason they don't write that on the engine is because the writing would have to be much smaller.

I got onto the train and sought my seat. Seeing someone sat in the seat next to mine, I said "Hi, I'm seat number 6", intending it to be a light hearted introduction. She replied "Yes, that's the aisle seat, I'm number 5", clearly assuming I was asking her to move. There was a pause, while I contemplated spending the whole journey next to someone I'd ticked off in my first 5 words. "My name's Matt". "I'm Michele, nice to meet you". Michele was from Co. Clare in Ireland, and was also heading up to Darwin, so we chatted for a bit, and then she discovered a free seat at the front of the carriage. As we were stuck on the train for a full 24 hours, she thought it'd be sensible to take it, but we agreed to meet for dinner, and over dinner decided we got on well enough to organise our activities in Katherine together.

The Katherine stopover was from 9am to 2.30pm, giving us 5 hours plus to enjoy Nitmiluk National Park, or Katherine Gorge. So I booked my gorge transfer bus, and Michele did the same. On arriving in Katherine the following morning we were told we'd need to be back on the train at 1pm, as a freight train was due to use the track around the station from that time. Fine, that still leaves four hours. By the time we got to the gorge, it was shortly after 10am. Fine, still three hours to get back to the train. The coach driver said "Right, you guys, meet me at the visitor centre at 11.15am". My five hour exploration of one of the Top End's big draws had finally come down to a little under an hour, and Michele and I were more than a little vexed. Still, walking up the cliff of the first gorge, we made the first lookout and took some photos. A random Australian tourist talked about sport to me (I'm so glad I don't like cricket) and we headed back down, leaving enough time for a 10 minute swim in the river (keeping an eye out for crocs) before heading back to the bus. It was a hell of a view, as you can see, but I woudl have liked a little longer.

Back on the train, we waited in the platform from 1pm to 3pm, then headed to Darwin. On the way, the film in our carriage was Norbit. Don't bother seeing it. I never thought I'd say this of any film, but The Nutty Professor was actually better than Norbit. We finally arrived into Darwin at about 7.30pm, an hour late, and just in time to miss the sunset. The Legendary Ghan struck me as legendary in two ways only - slow and late. Having said that, it's a great way to see places on the way to your destination, there was much more space than on a plane, and not surprisingly, less turbulence.

Alice Springs - 17th to 20th September

Alice Springs is a fascinating town in its history. Originally just a telegraph station on the North-South line from Adelaide to Darwin, it was a vital link in communications with Britain and the rest of the world. The telegraph system meant messages to London that previously took three months to get there and back could be transmitted in a matter of days. The name came from the Alice Spring, a waterhole by the station 3km north of the town (originally called Stuart after an explorer). The spring, in turn, was named after the postmaster's wife, Alice. It's around 1500km to Darwin, and the same to Adelaide, and those two points are the closest coastal towns, and the closest settlements with more than about 10,000 people. A lot of this history is told on a very informative and well presented tour of the telegraph station, which I took yesterday.

Among Alice's attractions are a Desert Park (which Bill Bryson dryly remarks upon, exclaiming disbelief at a recreation of authentic desert environments in the desert), a Botanical garden sycophantically devoted to the woman who set it up, and even the reports in the ark only manage to thinly disguise how cantankerous she was - part of dealing with the harsh conditions, I suppose - and an annual regatta which has to be cancelled if there's any water in the river. The Todd river flows very rarely, and once didn't flow for 8 years. In fact, they say if you see it flow three times you're a local. This year it flowed three times between January and March alone, s there's a lot more locals out there these days, but right now it's dry as a bone.

Waking up in the dorm at Annie's Place just in time, I went out to meet Danie and Yoko for breakfast. We wandered up Todd Street Mall, and picked up a substantial breakfast. We bumped into Susan too, who was exploring the town. We all learned that Susan had vaccinated chickens for a living in Perth, and when she described the skills this required we were a bit surprised. Susan is a very quiet young woman from Taiwan, and the thought of her carrying 7 chickens in each hand didn't sit right somehow. Anyway, after sitting enjoying the busker on the bench across the street, we parted ways, and I explored the town for myself. The view from Anzac Hill was a great way to get oriented, though it's difficult to get lost in Alice Springs, and there were numerous places selling aboriginal art and didgeridoos. You get the impression that a number of Aborigines are able to make a living from this, as they should - it's good stuff. The sad thing is, the vast majority of Aborigines seem to be very poor indeed. The crowds outside the hospital alone are testament to that. This morning's local paper reported on some YouTube threads against a video containing racial slurs from a local sports match, and seemed to suggest that there were still a lot of problems in that area.

Across from the hosital there's an excellent secondhand bookshop, where the lady who runs it is so familiar with her products that she was able to turn straight to the section on Alice Springs in "Down Under" by Bill Bryson. "He was a bit harsh with Alice" she said. I read it later. He said it was a bit dull, and peole come here largely because it has a reputation for being hard to get to, which is absurd now it has a commercial airport. He also said people came because outback life is harsh and gritty, and right now, Alice is full of American chain shops. He also said that, despite all that he liked it rather a lot (though he liked it more after a few drinks). I agree with all of that, and don't think it's unfair or harsh at all.

Back at the hostel, Scott, a reptile expert from North Sydney, is staying overnight to make his way to Darwin. He's been trying to get there for years, but something always comes up. "Last year my brother died" he said. "That was inconsiderate of him" I replied, as sensitively as possible. "Yeah, he always was a selfish bastard". After the uncomfortable pause that followed, Scott said he was heading down to the bar "so I'll see you down there later". It was a statement rather than a question, so I went. There, Evan from New Orleans, Mark from England and Scott and I put a few beers away, with a German girl called Caroline and a Dutch girl whose name I've already forgotten, and Rio from Japan. Eventually the male contingent returned to our room and played Uno with a bottle of bourbon and some Coke. The room was a ten bed dorm, and there were six of us playing. One other guy was out for the evening. So we were a little surprised when 4 guys from Hong Kong arrived for the night. The problem was compounded when two Irish guys returned from their evening out. Eventually someone was called up from the bar to sort it out - it turned out the guys from Hong Kong had booked for the following night, or otherwise had been booked for it in error - and we got a good night's sleep. Scott, on the other hand, full of bourbon and Coke, decided now was a good time to hit the road. So he jumped back in his car and disappeared. Being half asleep when he left I did say "What, now?" and when he replied "yeah, this is the best time, the roads will be quiet", I hadn't the presence of mind to argue.

Most of the rest of my time in Alice has been pretty uneventful but it does have a certain charm. You kind of want to stay here longer just to see if anything happens. Maybe it's also because you want to see whether the river "flowing" is the same as rivers flowing everywhere else, or it's just a damp streak of mud down the middle. Maybe it's to see whether the busker knows the middle section to Easy by the Commodores or not (sadly he was interrupted halfway through by an admiring member of the public). Maybe it's because there's a rock festival here this weekend. Anyway, I'll be on the train to Darwin in a few hours either way, and I'll leave feeling glad I came to Alice, even if I can't quite say why.

Perth to Alice Springs, in a big 4WD van

This is the bit of the travelling I'd been waiting for. Three days in the desert, camping under the stars. The Olgas, Uluru, King's Canyon, and lots of other stuff. In a lot of ways it lived up to the buildup I'd given it, but in some, it was a little different. Firstly, the three days in the desert consisted of stops at fuel stations, and about 8-12 hours' driving a day, and secondly, the first night I had wildly underestimated how much I needed to wear to keep warm! All in all though, I'm still very glad to have done it, and grateful to Terry our tour guide and driver (and cook, and entertainment, and astronomer and general resource - a really incredible guy) and to the other folks on the tour for making it so much fun.

12th September - I was picked up from the hostel ready to hit the road. The driver, Terry mentioned we were being joined by Yoko Ono, and we joked about whether it would be the proper one. We picked up everyone else from around town and headed out of Perth. At about noon we stopped for lunch - sandwiches and pasta salad, very tasty, and a few people made introductions. Then we headed out to Kalgoorlie and Coolgardie, which is goldmining country. This would be our last chance to get cheap booze for about a week, the driver said. Then we headed out to our campsite - a flat area of dust just off the highway - and set up a fire and camp for the night.

13th September - We got up at sunrise, something we were going to have to get used to. I hovered by the fire, desperately trying to get back some lost heat from the cold, windy night. We piled onto the bus and headed to the abandoned gold mining town at Gwalia, and spent 15 minutes looking at the rusted shacks with tables and chairs, beds and even books still in there from 1967 when the town was closed down overnight. The rest of the day was spent driving, but we did see kangaroos, eagles, goats and even emus from the truck. We also saw a thorny devil, a spiny lizard, and so Terry stopped and showed it to us close up. It even ended up on Jurgen and Jo's heads! Terry also showed us a few waterholes on the way. The aborigines used to fill them with gravel to stop anything falling in and polluting the water. One we saw hadn't been maintained, and was full of emu, so probably wasn't good to drink. When we got to the camp, Ellie said she was worried about scorpions, but Terry said she shouldn't worry about them, the snakes are much worse! After that, she was going to sleep on the bus, but she braved it, even after spotting a snake shaped branch on the floor.

14th September - Lots of camels on the roadside all day today, and all dirt roads, much like yesterday, and much like the following day, it would transpire. We stopped at Warburton, one of the most remote petrol stations in the world! It's odd to drive 300km without seeing anything, and then arrive at a roadhouse by an aboriginal town you aren't allowed to enter, and then drive another 300km to the next one. At the next one though, there was a weather station, and we were there just in time for the weather balloon launch. If the meteorologist bears a striking resemblance to Ellie, that's a coincidence, members of the public aren't allowed to launch weather balloons.

Earlier in the day I'd asked Terry how often he got flat tyres. He said "Hardly ever, but now you've tempted fate, so if we get one, it's your fault!". Guess what?! We got one... Terry fixed it when we got to our camp, just over the Northern Territory border. And we found a frisbee and threw that about a bit. And I sang Great Balls of Creep to everyone, round the fire.

15th September - At about 10am, a few hours on the road, we sighted the Olgas on the horizon. I realised I didn't know what to expect from them, but they were every bit as impressive as Uluru. On the walk into the valley we met some very jubilant greek guys from Melbourne. They caught us up near the car park and danced with Megan and Danie, which we all joked about all afternoon! A few minutes later, Uluru came into view, and we drove past to Yalura, the Ayers Rock resort. After lunch we headed to the rock and saw a waterhole at the foot of it, and some cave paintings. The information we were given, and Terry's talks about the sites at the foot of the rock, drove home the cultural significance of Uluru to the ancestral owners. Later we watched the sun set on the rock, and behind the Olgas, and then headed home for dinner on the campsite.

16th September - Yesterday afternoon the climb had been closed so we headed back for another go. First we watched sunrise on the rock, which meant getting up at 4.45am. So much for being on holiday! The climb was closed again though, so we did the base walk instead. In a way it was a relief not to have to decide whether to go up or not, and the base walk was fascinating - more dreamtime stories about the patterns in the rock and what they meant, and incredible scenery rising from the flat of the desert. A talk we heard said "You could see a bull ant at 10km out there, as long as it wasn't lying down" and it's nigh on true.

In the afternoon we headed round to King's Canyon. Although we were getting rock fatigue, it was another spectacular trip. The climb to the top of the rim walk nearly killed me though! We also found the water hole in the back of the canyon, by the Garden of Eden, and I sat with my feet dipped in the cool water for a few minutes before we started the walk back to the bus. Alas, two of us got a little lost on the way - Megan and Ellie took a wrong turn and ended up back by the water hole. They radioed the rangers who came out to find them, following Terry who had left ten minutes before, and half an hour later we heard they were on their way back. By the time they got back to the bus, exhausted but safe, it was dark, and we spotted a satellite going overhead just before they returned.

17th September - Today there were lots of morning activities available - camel rides, helicopter rides, Harley rides. I chose the cheapest one, a lie-in! On the way we found some meteorite craters - not that impressive, as the sharp edges had been worn down over the years, but still colossal for the size of the rocks. At the roadhouse just outside Alice we tried to see Dinky the singing dingo, but he was on tour to Alice, so we soon moved on. Arriving into Alice was great - civilisation at last! I wandered to the station and caught the 'Ghan leaving for Darwin, so I watched it go. I'll be on the train myself on Thursday. Then we all met up for a meal in town, a goodbye for the tour people. The bar was great fun - peanut shells on the floor, and snakes in a tank in the bar. Later the owner brought the snake out, and passed it round. Even Ellie, whose fear of snakes was pretty intense, managed to stroke it at one point. It was kind of hard saying goodbye to everyone, but I was glad to be sleeping in a proper bed again!

Perth, living it down - 7th-11th September

I'm a little embarassed about this. My first night in a dorm, my three roommates all hardened construction workers, I hadn't eaten since breakfast and a few drinks later (well, a lot of drinks later) I had thrown up on the balcony. This is not something I plan to repeat, especially as we nearly came to blows, as apparently I hadn't been that quick in offering to clean up. Clean up I did, though, and since then I think we've all got on ok. Not to be repeated in Alice or Darwin I think. This did make 7th prety uneventful, but when I walked into town for dinner I saw they were setting up a tarmac rally, and got some lovely photos of all kinds of cars. Perth is very pretty at night too.

8th September I wandered round some of the museums, and was particularly impressed with the Aboriginal exhibition at the Museum of Western Australia. The rest of the museum was geology, natural history and a vague amalgamation of the three above areas specifically focused on Perth. All very nice, but nothing special, but the Aborigine section was fascinating. I spent a good 45 minutes in there (a long time for me, ask anyone) absorbing all sorts of information about early conflicts with the white folks, the 'stolen generation', Aboriginal rights in Australia. One particularly touching moment was when a father told his 5 year old daughter "Well, they were taken away from their parents when they were younger than you". I don't think I'd realised the enormity of it until then, and that it was all so recent, in the Fifties. I understand a bit more about all of the reconciliation and National Sorry Day and why that's so important, where I was a bit cynical before, as I didn't see what it would do. Another quote on the wall said "Black men know that when white folks find gold, black men have to leave, and the white men stay". I think that's been true one way or another all over the world.

The state art gallery is well worth a visit too - being out of my depth where art is concerned I won't go into too much detail, but it was nice to see mainly recent, mainly Australian works, instead of the Renaissance and classical oil paintings that seem to dominate the NSW art gallery. The glass sculptures were a particular highlight.

9th September This morning I booked my ferry and bike hire for Rottnest Island, and headed out to Fremantle. Arriving at 11.30am meant I had four hours to kill, so I headed to the markets for an hour or so. Fremantle Markets are a hive of activity, with all sorts of things on sale. Highlights for me were the kite stall and the Bratwurst, but I hadn't eaten since the previous afternoon, so I was pretty peckish. The Roundhouse seemed to suggest itself, so I headed up there for the time ball and time gun talk at 1pm. The man explained that the ball fell so that people would have the right time even on ships some kilometres away, as the shot would take time to travel there, and a few seconds translate to several kilometres when you're using the clock to navigate. That's where the phrase "keep your eye on the ball" comes from, in fact. The shot rang out with ear-piercing intensity - the little girl who had volunteered to press the button could barely contain her delight!

The Maritime museum was the next building round the coast and my cousin Jabez had given the Sydney one the thumbs up, so I had to go. I got straight on the submarine tour, which was full of fascinating stories about the dead man's bunk (right by the battery vents, where a malfunction would poison that man in 30 seconds) and Frankie breaking into the grog cabinet (only he knew that the bolt with the padlock on it was the only one that unscrewed, and betting $50 with each new crew member that he could get them a beer made him a fortune). If you go, ask for Ron's tour - he's a Scottish ex pilot who strays from the prepared script and has a chip on his shoulder about the management, but he knows his boat.

The museum itself is ok if you have an interest in that area, and there are improvements and renovations going on to improve it. It's an inexpensive way to pass a few hours but not worth the journey on its own. With the sub tour though, I felt I'd had my money's worth!

The voyage out to Rottnest left me checked into a hostel and on a beach alone waiting for the sun to set. I strode out to the island's one settlement as the last of the light was leaving and then a moment of panic when I thought I'd lost my keys turned into twenty minutes of panic when I realised that I had lost them. I didn't want to be stranded here with no bike and no access to my room! So I hurried back along the beach in the fast fading light, swearing to myself and scanning the sand for the red tag on my key. Five minutes more and the rising tide would have swept them into the Indian Ocean, but I found them, and calmed down a bit.

The Quokka Arms Hotel was the only place still open, so a burger and a pint of Swan Draught (the local brew) served as dinner. The quokkas wanted their share though, and wouldn't leave me alone once the food arrived. Again, photos later! For the uninitiated, they're the reason the island is called Rottnest (literally "Rat's Nest" in Dutch). They're small, furry marsupials, something like a cross between a wallaby and a beaver.

10th September Waking up, I chatted to the French surfer in the bunk next to mine. He'd been in Australia one day, and was looking forward to getting out on the water. We watched Sesame Street over breakfast (my choice) and I jumped on my bike.

The island is surrounded first by sandy beaches and rocky outcrops, and secondly by a rock ledge just below the water. It's a paradise for scuba divers and swimmers alike (and a little dangerous for surfers, but they're hardcore and don't care). All in all I must have seen 20 coves and bays that ordinarily I'd have walked over broken glass to swim from, but here I was spoilt for choice. I rode the length of the island and at the farthest point saw two galahs on a handrail. I got a couple of good photos and then they flew away. "Damn," said someone behind me "I'd just got my camera ready." Well I'll email you this one? I said. She laughed, and I said "No, really, what's your address?" We chated for a while and I discovered she was there to show her daughter where she had scattered her late husband's ashes. He had fished from Rottnest Island for forty years, she said. I told her a bit about myself, and her friend said "Pity my daughter isn't here, she's a beautiful girl". I laughed and said something about being spoken for.

The lighthouse was a treat too, though the ride up to it makes it well earned. Many of the roadside verges contained lizards and snakes (the latter of which I gave a wide berth) and pelicans and wading birds cover most of the rocks on the edges of the island. Eventually I did settle on a beach and dip in the water, with not a soul in sight and beautiful clear water in front of me. Half an hour later, though, I headed back to the main settlement for the ferry. Somewhere between tying up my bike and getting the ferry, I lost my bike lock key - this time, seemingly for good! I explained to the guy at the desk back in Fremantle and he said "We'll call and let you know what we had to do, and how much deposit you'll get back". Which is fair enough. Before I left I told the lady at the visitor centre it was a shame it was so remote from Sydney or London, or I'd be back again. She said "You'll come back anyway, everyone does, it's something in the water". I think that sinister prophecy might well be right, if just to find a beach more perfect than the one I settled on this time.

11th September I think it'll be mostly spent in the hostel. My tour leaves on Wednesday morning, very early!

Singapore, and Alec and Michelle's wedding - 31st Aug - 5th Sep

We flew into Singapore with Tiger Airways. We soon found out why the flight was so cheap, I've seen more legroom on a city bus, but it got us there. A lady in front of us on the jetway had a baby on her shoulder - we asked her if it counted as carry-on, and made a few cracks with them about "becoming unsettled in the overhead compartments during the flight" and so on. The guy next to me spoke about some crazy 9/11 conspiracy theories and how the Queen had killed Diana. I smiled and nodded.

31st August Arriving into Singapore at 3am may not have been the best idea but we coped with it ok, and got up at about noon the next day with no problems. The air conditioning in the room had actually made it too cold if anything, but it was better than the intense heat in Singapore, which I hope I'll adapt to next year! We walked to Parkview Square, the Batman Building as I've grown to call it thanks to Michelle. The Sultan Mosque was as imposing as I remember, but the heat was a bit much for both of us, so we left that part of town and headed to Esplanade. On the way I pointed out the Asian Civilisations Museum, where the wedding reception would be the following day, and we saw a young girl sliding down the concrete slopes of the Singapore River flyover by Esplanade, soon joined by her whole family, having an excellent time. Elissa and I sat on the steps by the outdoor stage and listened to a soundcheck for a later show, and just watched the world go by - something we should have done more of, if we'd had more time. Later on we caught some bands there too - Daphne was very impressive, and the two guys who did a Pink Floyd song were a favourite of Elissa's.

1st September - Wedding Day. We left the hotel at 9am, nervous we'd be late for the 10am service. We grabbed breakfast at a cafe a few blocks across Rochor Road, and were a bit concerned about our choice when we realised everyone in there was, well, white. I always gauge a place on whether the locals eat there, but this was a pleasant surprise. The tea was good, and we both had filling breakfasts, even if each was a heart attack waiting to happen. Bacon, egg, maple syrup and pancakes, mmmm.... I should have used the butter they provided too!

St Teresa's Church was a beautiful white building, and lots of guests were already waiting there when we arrived, including several (Wilson, Lauren, Larry) who I hadn't seen in 5 years! Father John O'Leary, our old chaplain at university presided, and the service was really touching - not least the moment when Michelle lost her lines for a few seconds, so Alec mouthed them to her as they gazed at each other.

Elissa and I wandered down Orchard Road for lunch, and nearly picked up some Dr Seuss books in a bookshop there. I reacquainted myself with Kopi Ping, the cold coffee flavoured with condensed milk which seems to be something of a Singapore delicacy. We spent most of the afternoon napping, still recovering from the flight.

The reception was beautiful. The view from the verandah was stunning, the Singapore skyline pressed up close, a bar below playing live jazz. Inside the speeches were wry - Mr Quah's line about the usual Singapore proposal being the guy saying "Dear, you know our incomes are now above the tax threshold....". James Molloy Jr's remark about Alec wearing tights as a young lad... Alec and Michelle both had a few words to say about how happy they were too, and I think everyone there is sure they'll be just as happy now as they've been these last few years. I was proud to be there to see it.

2nd September Most of the morning was spent recovering from the last few days, but we spent a great afternoon in the block by the hotel shopping for trinkets. Elissa bought a mushroom that flashes when your phone rings, and I went hunting for DVDs in Suntec City. After we'd got through most of Madagascar (Thank you, giant freaks!) we hit the road for our evening of Karaoke with the newly weds. I killed my throat with "Master of Puppets" (yay for Rock Karaoke!), Alec pulled out an excellent "Whole Again", Michelle wowed us with "Loser", "The Real Slim Shady" and "Man in the Mirror" and Elissa belted out "Since you've been gone" (I felt very proud). Getting home at 2am probably didn't help two already very tired travellers, but we had no deadlines to meet the next day.

3rd September After a late start, we made it to Sentosa and the Underwater World by 3pm. Sadly there were no cuttlefish, but the rays, angelfish and crabs made up for it. The highlight of Sentosa for me though was the Dolphin Lagoon. The show was unashamedly entertaining, unlike most other shows I've seen where they tend to overemphasise the good treatment of the animals. The music was astoundingly melodramatic - when Sanjay, a random audience member from India was being kissed by the dolphin it could have been music from the film of a Mills and Boon novel, and when the formation jumping was going on, I half expected Harrison Ford to drop from a helicopter. If it had been a drier day, I'd have paid the $15 to get a photo with the dolphins (who were, by all indications, extremely well looked after, in case I appeared glib about that above). A quick go on the luge and we took the cable car back to the mainland, and grabbed a quick dinner in a hawker centre.

4th September I can't tell you how relieved we both were that the flight was at a more reasonable time. We arrived into Perth at 9pm, slightly ahead of schedule, and Elissa and I raced each other in the customs queues. Amazingly, as a non-Australian entering Australia, I won! Aside from a telling off about bringing in some sweets without declaring them, everything went smoothly, and we drifted back into Perth, exhausted but pleased to have done everything we had planned to in Singapore.

Perth - living it up - 30th July to 6th August

Ok, I know I said I wouldn't write, but I always put those "It'll be quiet things" up when I'm about to update loads... No photos til I get back though, and they're the best bit, right?

30th July We flew into Perth late on 29th July, and Elissa had been at work all day, so she was understandably prety tired. I went to secure food for the both of us, and we slept like babies in the nice hotel we'd booked on Wellington Street. In the morning I woke up, keen to use the hotel's facilities. To my surprise, and Elissa's initial disbelief, I managed to rack up 100 lengths of the hotel's 10m swimming pool, though I felt it later. A guy working for the hotel said "Do you want the sauna switching on?" and I was all for it. He told me it was an electric one though, and I wasn't to throw water on it. Some of the guests do, even though there's a big sign on it, and they risk electrocution (sauna heaters run on ridiculously high ampage, which makes it very dangerous). I asked him if he'd ever lost any guests, and he said "Unfortunately not - those are the guests we'd like to lose".

Down by the river, we were lucky enough to see dolphins herding fish - fetching their lunch, which was shared by opportunist pelicans and cormorants. This is something I haven't seen again since, in the week I've spent here, and I keep checking. At one point they were only 30m from the shore, easily visible and audible. That was a real privilege.

Kings Park was as beautiful as everyone says. One particularly beautiful bit was the view from the top of Jacobs Ladder. A hell of a climb, for someone as out of shape as me, but well worth it. Elissa spotted Kevin Rudd (Australian Opposition Leader and strip club frequenter, for the uninitiated) recording a commercial in the park, looking very orange; presumably makeup for the cameras. The wildlife in the park was incredible too, all kinds of birds, some lizards and some beautiful plants. It's a day's entertainment in itself.

We rushed back into town and grabbed a bite to eat and jumped into the cab to the airport. The driver confirmed, yes we were lucky to see dolphins in Perth. Then we flew to Singapore (which I'll cover in a separate post).

5th September We arrived late again on 4th September, and went for dinner in a well priced and suitably dingy bar. The music was excellent, mostly, and the food was plentiful and very affordable. Elissa drank a Smurf (not sure what was in it, but it was blue-green and milky) and swore never to do so again. The hotel room was beautiful, soft, enormous bed, big TV, spa, all the things you hope for when you book. Breakfast was included so we woke up just in time and made the most of that. Elissa made some enquiries about Rottnest Island, but it seemed the only way to see it was overnight, and we'd booked the hotel that night, and Elissa was due to leave the next day. We settled on taking the ferry down to Fremantle. When we got there we had some excellent Gozleme in one of the cafe areas, and headed to the markets, to discover they ran Friday to Sunday. It was Wednesday.

Pottering round Fremantle was nice enough, but Elissa and I eventually agreed a beach was in order, so we jumped on the train to Cottesloe, and walked out to the beach. We joked about the golfers on the course by the coast, and applauded one somewhat unsuccessful player for not swearing more (quietly of course) and to my surprise, Elissa suggested we grab a few drinks. Normally if there's a suggestion of drinking, it's from me. We sat at a bar by the beach waiting for the sun to set and drinking a few beverages on the outside area. Unfortunately the sun wasn't setting nearly fast enough for either of us, so we caught a bus back to town, and made our way back to the hotel.

6th September We woke for breakfast, just in time again, and headed down to James Street for a few games of pool. Elissa and I have a running tournament for every new location, (which she will insist she's winning - I think it's a draw by now) and so the Western Australia round had to be played. Naturally it would be ungentlemanly of me to say anything about the result...

Elissa got herself a massage and I went to investigate a new camera in town. We made our way to the airport shortly afterwards, and said some emotional goodbyes over a drink in the airport bar. Needless to say, I'll miss my closest friend on this side of the world for the next few weeks while I'm travelling, and there's already been a lot I've seen that I'd like to have shared with her, but I'm sure the next four weeks will fly by, and I'm looking forward to being in Sydney again, with lots of stories to tell.

The next part of the Perth story is about the rougher end of travelling - no spas or saunas anymore!

Low on the radar

You may have noticed I've been a bit quiet on here recently. I'm actually out of Sydney and around various bits of Australia at the moment, doing travelling for real, rather than the home away from home I had in Sydney. It's proving both challenging and rewarding so far, and I'm very excited about the 6 day tour to Alice I have booked for Wednesday, and the prospect of the National Parks around Darwin. I'll be back in Sydney and writing about James Morrison at the Basement, Alec and Michelle's wedding and Elissa and my trip to Singapore, and all of the WA and NT stuff, from 4th October, so if you're checking back more than once a month, probably best not to bother til then.... Thanks for reading!

The journey home

We left the chalet at about 11am, and headed back south, through Ballina, Coffs Harbour, past Port Macquarie, to Taree, where we spent the night. We ate in the local pub and found ourselves a room for the night. The following morning we headed out to Old Bar, where Elissa's aunt used to live. There were mud flats and beaches along there that would have been perfect for camping, and I think we'll be stopping there on the way up the coast in December. I wandered across the mudflat, as the water only got to knee level. It was beautifully clear and full of fish and shellfish.

On the drive to Saltwater, just up the coast, we saw a bird of prey perched on an old dead tree. We're still not sure what it is, but it's very pretty. I'm still amazed at the creatures you can see in the wild in Australia - Ben's chasing a kangaroo and spilling his wine, the koala in the tree by the Great Ocean Road, possums on the phone wires in Melbourne, thousands of fruit bats all over Sydney every evening. I can't wait to see what else there is in NT, Tasmania, WA and Queensland.

We hung out on the beach for lunch at Seals Rocks. There was beautiful clear water and a whole bay without any people. A gentle breeze on the hill we sat on over the bay provided good lift for the seagulls who thought they might be able to share our lunch. I made it as clear as possible that they weren't that lucky.

Then we drove down to Hawks Nest to pop in and see Elissa's parents. They provided much-needed coffee, and we headed back into Sydney, exhausted but content, and with lots of happy memories from an excellent long weekend.

Splendour in the Grass 2007, Day 2

We got up, breakfasted ourselves hard, and then headed out to Byron. We sat on the beach, trying to shoo seagulls away and enjoying the sunshine, then grabbed a lunch of burrito for Elissa and sausage and chips for me. At about 4pm we made it to the festival in time for Midnight Juggernauts, a dancy Aussie group, kind of in the vein of Hot Chip. We tried to get in to see Gotye, but he'd been put in the third stage, and there just wasn't room for everyone who wanted to get in there. Everyone had been saying how well organised the festival was, until this one, but other than that they'd done a good job. And we'd seen Gotye at the Metro a week before, so we hit the nearby bar.

We emerged again in time for Josh Pyke (who had the same problem with overcrowding) but he wasn't much cop so we headed back to the other stages, and caught up with a friend of Elissa's. He'd managed to get in by highly suspicious means, as had his friends. We learned later that it had been the worst year for fence jumping in the festival's history. The lot of us went to see Hoodoo Gurus, who were a good old fashioned rock band, and one of Elissa's surprise acts of the weekend. I wasn't overly impressed, but they did the job. Eager to see Bloc Party, I stayed where I was, as the others went to see Cut Copy on the other stage. But by about halfway through Bloc Party's set they'd played everything I wanted to hear, and the pressure from the crowd was pretty crazy, so I went to join Elissa and her friends for the start of Hilltop Hoods, an Aussie hip-hop group. Hip-hop's mot my thing, but the atmopshere in the crowd was great. After about 20 mins I headed over the catch Arctic Monkey's festival-closing set. They're still not my favourite band, but there's some catchy tunes in there, and it was a diverting hour and a quarter.

Elissa and I managed to meet up and ead back to the chalet. About halfway back we spotted Candice and Jo, and we all walked back together, grabbed a glass or two of wine and slept like babies! A good time was definitely had by all!

Splendour in the Grass 2007, Day 1

Waking up on the Saturday morning, breakfast was foremost in our minds, and Elissa and I headed to Woolworths to pick up everything. And it really was everything; bacon, sausages, beans, eggs, bread, mushrooms, tomatoes, ham, cheese, croissants, butter, icecream, potatoes, apple juice, milk. When we got back we cooked a breakfast fit for a king. Well, four kings, really. We didn't plan to be hungry for the day.

We set off walking to the festival, which was about 2km outside town. When we got there we ran right into the back of an hour-long queue of about 4,000 people, presumably all trying to get in to see Editors, who were the next act on the main stage. We made friends with a guy from Brisbane, and chatted, and bounced a beach ball around, and eventually got our wristbands and got in, in good time to catch Editors' set. They were great fun, and had apparently just come from setting Glastonbury, metaphorically, on fire. I'd not be surprised to see them headlining festivals the world over in a few years.

Wandering round the festival we could see the place was packed out, but there was a great atmosphere, everyone having the time of their lives, and looking forward to some excellent music. We went to the Save-A-Mate stall, as some friends of Elissa's were running the show there, and we grabbed some drink tickets too. Grabbing a couple of beverages we went to see Ash. They are now a three piece again, Charlotte Hatherley having disappeared again. I've just seen them on TV in an interview from Splendour and they say that Charlotte doesn't miss herself in their shows. I sgree, they sounded great, and I've been expecting Ash to sound tired for some time. Hell, they did sound tired at Glastonbury in 2004. Nothing world-changing, but some songs we all knew (including Kermit) and an appreciative crowd.

We watched The Cat Empire from much further forward, but shortly after they started, the bathroom called, so I headed off, leaving Elissa to get some great photos. The Cat Empire is one of Elissa's favourite bands, so she was having a fabulous time. We met up afterwards and wandered round some of the stalls, and got Elissa a blanket, but by the time the Kaiser Chiefs started, we disappeared back to the chalet. On top of the drive up, it had been a long day, and we weren't big Kaiser or Powderfinger fans anyway. We had a couple of drinks and headed to bed, ready for a big day on Sunday.

The Road to Splendour

Byron Bay is about two hours by plane, or about 12 hours by car, from Sydney. The cost in fuel and accomodation for one night and the cost in airfares is roughly equivalent. The view from the car, though, is far superior to the view from the plane, and the New South Wales coast is pretty quiet in the winter, so we drove up and enjoyed a couple of beaches on the way almost completely to ourselves.

We left on Thursday morning, and pulled up in Hawks Nest at about 2pm, at Elissa's parents house. Colin introduced me to his Old Grey Whistle Test DVDs and Vivienne put on the lamb roast, apologising several times for having slightly overcooked the lamb last time. The lamb last time was beautiful, for the record. Elissa and I headed to the beach and flew the kite a little bit, and we came back and ate, and played Rummikub for an hour or two, with more than a couple of remarks about turning tiles over and using them as blanks (as that had been a strategy by one of the players in the scrabble game last time!).

The following morning we headed out at 9am, and struck out for Coffs Harbour, and the Big Banana. The Big Banana is the first Big Thing in Australia, and is one of many, including The Big Merino, which we saw on our Melbourne road trip, and the Big Prawn, just up the road to Byron, at Ballina. My favourite is definitely the merino so far. The Big Banana was pretty tiny, and though the smoothies were pretty good, I feel like they could have done better. While we were there, some people on the next table were having a meeting about door to door sales, but we didn't establish what brand. It made our skin crawl to listen to their team leader, so we left and pressed on.


The next stop was on Harwood Island! We drove past a sign that said "All of Harwood has 50km/h streets" and Elissa asked, do you want to stop and take some photos? I said no, and then thought for a few seconds and said yes... So we went to the pub, picked up a stubby holder and a lighter, and took photos by the school and the sugar refinery. If it wasn't a tiny little country town with less going on in it than in Corby Glen, I'd probably consider trying to retire here.

From there, we headed up to Ballina, and the Big Prawn. There's not much to see here, so we pulled into the car park and took a photo and then pressed on. Byron Bay was only another 40km on or so, so we were excited to get there! We got into Byron at about 5.30pm and got ourselves a pie, and headed to the hostel. The traffic wasn't all that bad, but the town was packed with crazy hippies and music fans, and there were guitars and drums being strummed and beaten all over town.

We met Candice and Jo, who would be our housemates for the weekend, and were shown the chalet we'd booked for the weekend. Jaws most definitely dropped. The place was incredible! A full kitchen, a spacious lounge, a lovely bathroom, a balcony in front of the chalet with a really comfortable daybed and a table and chairs we used for breakfast. We were impressed. And Candice and Jo had got both colours of wine ready for our arrival, so we knew we'd get on well.

Live music in Sydney and Byron

Today, I got some tickets to see The Police. I've been playing Roxanne badly at parties for more than a decade, and I've waited to see a Sting tour I might be able to catch for several years now. And I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to see the three of them in the same place, playing the songs they last played before I even knew what an electric guitar was. I'm almost ashamed of how excited I am about this show. And it's three days after my birthday too.

On Saturday we went to see Gotye, doing what looked like a warmup show for this weekend. He's a very earnest singer-songwriter-drummer chap who does funky electronic stuff, and he puts on a good show. There were some lovely moments where a guy next to us tried to sing along in the same octave, and sounded really bad for the high notes. A few minutes later he said to his companion "He's a good singer, isn't he?". And he is.

This weekend we're off to Splendour in the Grass in Byron Bay, one of the most eagerly followed festivals on the Australian calendar. Highlights include Lily Allen (sadly) Powderfinger, Damien Rice, Bloc Party, Artic Monkeys, The Cat Empire and Hot Chip. Should be good. We're staying somewhere very cool too.

A couple of days after The Police is Big Day Out in Sydney. It'll have lots of international names, lots of rock, lots of singing and hanging out in the park. But it's still all about that eighties band I'm seeing just before that. Woohoo!

Fiery death in La Perouse

It works! And it's a danger to me and to other people! but a few design changes should fix that. By the time the next one comes down, it will be well out of sight, and may have gone out with any luck. Watch this space!

Il Trovatore

Last night we saw Il Trovatore. Babies on fires, inappropriate nudity, and everyone dies at the end - that's what an opera should be like. Lots of threatening to kill people, at least one poisoning, pop-up nuns hiding in a slowly advancing wall, hatred and jealousy simmering for two decades between two people who turn out to be brothers, lust, abuse of power, revenge, insanity. The Anvil Chorus was a cracker too. The singers and orchestra were, if anything, tighter and more polished than the previous evening. If only I hadn't been so tired, it would have been a really incredible evening - as it was it was still pretty special. I think we got the two operas the wrong way round, on reflection, but I definitely don't regret seeing either.

Sydney Opera House is, unsurprisingly, a fantastic place to see fantastic opera, as well as all the other excellent shows I've been fortunate enough to see.