Australian Adventure

Episode 3

HOME >> WRITING >> AUSTRALIAN ADVENTURE

Links:

...in which our intrepid hero plays tourist and nursemaid, goes bush (almost) in a local park, and has an encounter with some hefty reptiles.

Into week number 2 already. Last week fairly nipped by, and before I knew it myself and the rest of the office were scampering to church in downtown North Sydney. Church? OK, so it certainly looked like a church (and indeed once was a church) from the outside, but some local likely lad had since converted it into a splendid drinking establishment. Crowded in trancepts, naves and vestibules the beautiful young things of McMahon's Point strutted their funky stuff with the express intention of outdressing everyone else. I should imagine that the original occupants of the building had rather more conservative vestiments in mind.

For the ladies, minimalia is the order of the day. Hair is worn up, along with hemlines and voice volume. Gentlemen have the option of dark suits a la designer name, or louche shirts in startling colours (but only if paired with bleached hair). The former graveyard to one side of the building, away from the noise and the jazz trio, played host to societies temporary outcasts, standing a regimented 4 feet from each other, mobile phones pressed to their faces, looking faintly embarrassed and not unlike a set of headstones. Curious that while wearing a mobile is the ultimate in cool, actually using it has yet to become acceptable.

So, to Saturday. Right under the southern pylon of the harbour bridge is the original settlement of Sydney, the place where the first bunch of convicts landed in 17-something-or-other. Having weathered every conceivable form of crime and vice, a dusting of bubonic plague, the attentions of the local planners and the not inconsiderable obstacle of the bridge carving it in half, it has now been sanitised and repackaged as a tourist experience. Rather nice too. Some of the oldest buildings in Australia are here, now converted to shops selling Japanese-made mementoes of Australia to Japanese tourists, who will presumably take them home to their land of manufacture. A superb market sells everything you never knew you wanted, from carved wood to shoulder massages, the local musicians kept the atmosphere festive and the ice-cream stopped me from becoming over-poached in my own juices. Some of the guide books say the place has become too much of a theme park. Call me old fashioned but I can get the feel of a place without having to contract black death.

Eve, Karl and I took a stroll out to Ball's Head, the next lump over from McMahon's Point, just as the sun was going down one evening. I have never heard insects make so much noise. Within a matter of minutes it went from light to dark, and we were left stumbling about in the undergrowth. Great views from the Head, by the way. I was left to wonder once again if the intentions of any of the local wildlife might be less than hospitable, having only recently seen descriptions of the hugely lethal Brown Snake and the somewhat unambiguously named Death Adder. Fortunately we survived the experience, and the only wildlife I encountered was Karl who, while undoubtedly startling (in the right light) is generally accepted to be harmless...

On Sunday Karl and I descended on Manly. By this time Eve had well and truly succumbed to a cough that had been brewing all week, so we left her at home with some Apricot linctus. Manly deserves an entire email all to itself, so I'll hold off. Besides, I've been told that if I say anything else about tripping barefoot through warm water on golden beaches with deep blue skies half the population of the UK and Canada will personally fly over and feed me to an emu.

We did see some massive turtles in the aquarium though. Between three and four feet long, they were doing lazy laps of their pool. If I can swim as well when I'm 140 I'll be doing well. They may not have been that old, but they looked it - the sun has an aging effect...

Half a litre of apricot linctus had failed to stay Eve's cough, which had now progressed from sporadic healthy hacking to a near continuous strip-throated wheeze. Jumping into the car we set off in pursuit of an all night chemist (Canadians: pharmacist). No messing around this time: "Give me some really FOUL tasting medicine". Aniseed and ammonia linctus was the winner, and seems to be doing the trick.