Who would have known that a simple airplane blanket could be such a lifesaver. The hostel I’m staying in provides free linen, but no quilt or blanket. But instead of renting one for 2$, I decided to sleep in long pants, socks, long sleeves and my little airplane blanket given to me in Melbourne. And I had wonderfully warm and toasty night…
Another early start this morning. Don’t know how often I woke up in the middle of the night and the early morning hours and panicking because I thought I may have overslept – turns out the bright halogen lights in front of my window make any time of night seem like day inside my room. Free breakfast consisted of toast, jam and milky tea, though I could have made myself an omelet, was just too lazy.
The tour started with the usual picking up of guests at the different hostels in town. This time, I travelled with two couples from Leeds, one of which had moved to Adelaide and a bunch of girls from Canada, Ireland and France. Shocked and relieved to find no Germans this time around – and nobody believed me that I actually am German. Our tour guide, a lively Adelaidian by the name of Fleur, gave us a short history of the city – Adelaide as a colony decided to become a more exclusive than the rest of the country and not let in any convicts. So here’s where the rich people moved and the money they brought along with them made the city into what it is today, reflected mostly in the architecture – a bit more lavish and luxurious suburban styles. It also made the state more advance in many ways, becoming the first state where women’s rights were acknowledged.
Our first tourist attraction was a toy factory, which built the world’s largest rocking horse right in front of their store and café. I think the stop was more of a chance to buy an overpriced coffee than to admire the rocking horse, but in the end, it was a fun sight to wake up to.
The next stop, which I believe was built into the tour so people wouldn’t be drunk at 10am (only at 10:30am), was a dam, built in 1902 – the Barossa Reservoir. It is also called the Whispering Wall, because it’s curved shapes enables sound-waves to travel from one end of the canyon across to the other, loud and clear.
Heading into the Barossa Valley, a 50km by 50km area in which over 700 grape producers and 73 cellar doors (wineries) can be found, we passed green rolling hills covered in grape vines. Though you had to use your imagination a bit, since the vine were brown and naked, it was a beautiful sight under the clear blue skies and sun. A few fact learned about wine production. Rose hedges used to be planted by the vines, used as natural alarm systems, because they showed signs of pests, disease, mildew and temperature change faster, giving the owner time to save his crops. Also, because of its history (or lack of), the Barossa Valley is a melting pot of all different kinds of wines. Not bound by tradition such as France or Italy, they feel free(r) to try new things, which is why some interesting blends come from this region. The micro climate in the valley allows for all kinds of grapes to be harvested – quite popular at the moment are Riesling and Shiraz, though Cabernet, Sauvignon, Chardonnay and Merlot are also found. Because it is naturally quarantined, some of the world’s oldest vines can be found here, some over 150 years old. Tradition holds that the names of the wineries usually date back to the founder…And what goes well with good wine? Good food, of course. Though we didn’t explore it, the gourmet side to the valley apparently has a lot to offer as well.
The first winery we hit was Jacob’s Creek, a very popular wine for the masses, exported into many different countries. A very modern and eco-friendly visitors’ centre stand close by the Creek after which the winery is named. We learned about the bouquet (the smell) and the palette (taste) and the many different notes that can be detected. Here, at 10:30am, we tried 7 different wines. My favorites being a very fruity and fresh Moscato that tasted like pears and peaches and a lemony, apple-y Riesling… After the very big winery, we visited a very small one, called Winery Simpatico – very simpatico indeed! From the 6 wines we tasted here, I grew to love a sweet and soft Shiraz and an amazing white port called Golden Lightning, which I could just imagine being heaven on Tahitian Vanilla ice cream… Just next to this winery we set up lunch and Fleur grilled up a storm – chicken, beef, pork sausages and kangaroo steak – and served the goods with a whole bunch of delicious salads, grilled potatoes and onions and bread. What a meal! The three girls and I decided that a bottle of that soft and sweet Shiraz would go well with the chilling on the lawn, enjoying the sunlight and a bit of conversation… After lunch, which really did good for our stomachs full of before-noon wine, we went on to the Richmond Grove winery, where we toured the behind the scenes of wine production. Here too we tasted no less than 5 wines, of which I drank every last drop. Again, the Shiraz was my favorite, along with another very fresh light Riesling. Although my tolerance for alcohol really isn’t very high, I was surprised to find I was one of the last sober people in that third winery. How was that possible after more wine than I’ve had all year? SO I figured I might as well make use of the tasting and stop pouring away the last sip in my glass. In Seppltsfield, our last stop of the day that had hedges surrounding it which reminded me of Alice in Wonderland, we tasted 3 wines and 3 fortified wines, meaning muscats and ports. Sweet and strong, those last few sips caught me up to the others (and may have taken me beyond them as well). I must have been as pink as the last glass served to us, which (I forgot exactly what it was) was something with raspberry that looked like Pink Panther Kool Aid. Kind of drunk and craving chocolate, a few of us (including me) passed out on the drive back. And although I thought I might have a hangover by the time we get back into Adelaide, my head is quite thankful for the high quality of my beverages of the day.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Chapter 13 "The Grampians"
After our deluxe picnic lunch, we drove inland, straight up to the Grampians. When this mountainous landscape was “discovered” by major Mitchell, a Scott, he decided that they resembles the region in his home country and named it after them. The indigenous Aborigine,s however, had lived and harmonized with the land for tens of thousands of years before that and fought in court to have its original name reinstated. They won and today, although still known as “The Grampians”, it is legally called the Gariwerd Grampians National Park.
Our first stop in this beautiful green region was the Brambuk National Park, an Aboriginal cultural centre and park. We watched two short films about the park and Aboriginal dreamtime – the stories about the creation of land, plants and animals. After the first few meters into the park, I saw my very first wild Wallaby and only a few steps further (and then all along the walk) my first Kangaroo. Such cute animals and clearly not very shy. I could approach them till almost a meter away, before they slowly hopped a few meters away. Quite a few had little joeys in their pouches, that stuck their heads (or feet) out every once in a while. Above us, flocks of Cacadu flew by and landed in the trees or just squawked off into the mountains. Even a few Emu were running around amongst the Kangaroos.
From there, w drove deeper into the green and took a little hike, including 290 stone steps, to the McKinzey Falls. These impressive waterfalls thunder down into a pool, which branches off into smaller falls, leading the water down into the valley. This was just one of those sights that is too beautiful to put into words, too sublime to try to describe. The walk back up was lung-burning, jacket-removing strenuous – but definitely worth it.
We stayed at Ned’s Beds, a hostel in Halls Gap, a quiet little town in the valley which – according to the Aborigines - was created by an angry giant emu chasing a crow which had eaten its egg and kicking the crack in the mountain in which the crow was hiding. We had a wooden cabin with two rooms and two bathrooms, a kitchen and a living room. Quaint and, once the heater was going full blast, even cozy. Hot showers were a blessing and so were the thick fluffy comforters on the beds. For dinner Whales made us an extremely delicious Kangaroo Lasagna – yes, with Kangaroo meat. I couldn’t really taste much of a difference, but I guess in lasagna it’s not that detectable. Garlic bread, giant salads and chocolate cake for desert rounded up the meal perfectly…. A clear night sky, stars twinkling above and not a sound to be heard – falling asleep in the middle of nowhere.
29.08.2010
Just like the morning before, the grass outside was sparkling with morning dew, but this time there were Kangaroos eating the grass – right outside our doorstep. The sun was rising over the mountains to the right, turning them orange, and illuminating the tree tops to the left. After breakfast and sandwich making, we drove to the Northern Grampians to hike the Hollow Mountains. The sign at the entrance read 1,2km – almost disappointed that it would be so short, we started across the sandy path. I realized I had never hiked a mountain walking on fine sand. The reason of course is the fact that the area used to be a desert, the mountains are all sandstone and their erosion makes the path a little winding beach. The vegetation is so different from anything I’ve hiked through – yellow eucalyptus, fine pines, morning dew flowers and spikey looking things. The sand turned into rocks and the climb became a bit harder – that’s more like it! When we got to a point where Whales told us to leave our jackets (I had already taken one off anyways) and any excess baggage because “here starts the fun part”, I got excited. And yes, it got fun! Hiking turned into rock climbing, among, along, over and through cliffs – no path, just little yellow arrows leading up to the very top of the mountain. What a feeling… The adrenaline rising with every boulder conquered, my smile growing at the sight of the “rock ladder” (a short vertical climb that felt like an artificial rock climbing wall, only natural) and pure bliss after climbing out of a hole in the cliff and onto the top of the world. I would say we were above the clouds, but there weren’t any to speak of…. Clear blue skies and beautiful beautiful sunlight, both reflecting off the surfaces of the little ponds in the rocky landscapes. Mountains surrounding us, trees below us and wide open spaces, fields, lining the horizon. We spent a while climbing around on the boulders, soaking up the sunlight, staring off into the distance. A definite highlight of the whole trip so far. I didn’t want to come down off that serene rocky paradise.
After slowly finding our way back down, me being the last because I just can’t stop taking pictures, we took another short hike to a cave with Aboriginal painting on the walls. Although not much is known about the place, it is speculated that it was a place where children learned the art of cave painting, drawing emu and kangaroo tracks and making handprints. Even through the wire fence protecting the paintings, it was quite amazing to be standing in front of such ancient art.
12:55noon, no make that 12:25noon… just crossing the border between Victoria and South Australia. Things that change: the time (half an hour), the speed limit (100km/h to 110km/h) and the ability to own 2 weed plants without being prosecuted.
6:30pm… Sitting in the Canon Street Backpackers in Adelaide. The rest of our journey took us through lots of farmland and a truck stop along the highway, where cattle and sheep were dancing polka in their cramped limousines. We did get to stretch our legs next to a wildlife park with white kangaroos and before heading into the city, we drove up a mountain to get a view of the Adelaide hills and the city, all the way to the coast. Spent most of the ride occupied with music – I have found that the Garden State soundtrack, the 500 Girls of Summer soundtrack and the Blow soundtrack make for really good background music while driving through the countryside – and episodes of “Die Drei Fragezeichen”. My first impression of the city is: small. And yes, I know it is Sunday, but driving into it and walking through the streets a few moments ago really felt like being in a ghost town. The hostel seems close to deserted, compared to the hustle and bustle in Melbourne, and is so quiet that you can hear the echo of your own talking in the halls. Will head down to the bar for free apple pie and cream at 8pm and see if that won’t attract the other life forms in here.
Our first stop in this beautiful green region was the Brambuk National Park, an Aboriginal cultural centre and park. We watched two short films about the park and Aboriginal dreamtime – the stories about the creation of land, plants and animals. After the first few meters into the park, I saw my very first wild Wallaby and only a few steps further (and then all along the walk) my first Kangaroo. Such cute animals and clearly not very shy. I could approach them till almost a meter away, before they slowly hopped a few meters away. Quite a few had little joeys in their pouches, that stuck their heads (or feet) out every once in a while. Above us, flocks of Cacadu flew by and landed in the trees or just squawked off into the mountains. Even a few Emu were running around amongst the Kangaroos.
From there, w drove deeper into the green and took a little hike, including 290 stone steps, to the McKinzey Falls. These impressive waterfalls thunder down into a pool, which branches off into smaller falls, leading the water down into the valley. This was just one of those sights that is too beautiful to put into words, too sublime to try to describe. The walk back up was lung-burning, jacket-removing strenuous – but definitely worth it.
We stayed at Ned’s Beds, a hostel in Halls Gap, a quiet little town in the valley which – according to the Aborigines - was created by an angry giant emu chasing a crow which had eaten its egg and kicking the crack in the mountain in which the crow was hiding. We had a wooden cabin with two rooms and two bathrooms, a kitchen and a living room. Quaint and, once the heater was going full blast, even cozy. Hot showers were a blessing and so were the thick fluffy comforters on the beds. For dinner Whales made us an extremely delicious Kangaroo Lasagna – yes, with Kangaroo meat. I couldn’t really taste much of a difference, but I guess in lasagna it’s not that detectable. Garlic bread, giant salads and chocolate cake for desert rounded up the meal perfectly…. A clear night sky, stars twinkling above and not a sound to be heard – falling asleep in the middle of nowhere.
29.08.2010
Just like the morning before, the grass outside was sparkling with morning dew, but this time there were Kangaroos eating the grass – right outside our doorstep. The sun was rising over the mountains to the right, turning them orange, and illuminating the tree tops to the left. After breakfast and sandwich making, we drove to the Northern Grampians to hike the Hollow Mountains. The sign at the entrance read 1,2km – almost disappointed that it would be so short, we started across the sandy path. I realized I had never hiked a mountain walking on fine sand. The reason of course is the fact that the area used to be a desert, the mountains are all sandstone and their erosion makes the path a little winding beach. The vegetation is so different from anything I’ve hiked through – yellow eucalyptus, fine pines, morning dew flowers and spikey looking things. The sand turned into rocks and the climb became a bit harder – that’s more like it! When we got to a point where Whales told us to leave our jackets (I had already taken one off anyways) and any excess baggage because “here starts the fun part”, I got excited. And yes, it got fun! Hiking turned into rock climbing, among, along, over and through cliffs – no path, just little yellow arrows leading up to the very top of the mountain. What a feeling… The adrenaline rising with every boulder conquered, my smile growing at the sight of the “rock ladder” (a short vertical climb that felt like an artificial rock climbing wall, only natural) and pure bliss after climbing out of a hole in the cliff and onto the top of the world. I would say we were above the clouds, but there weren’t any to speak of…. Clear blue skies and beautiful beautiful sunlight, both reflecting off the surfaces of the little ponds in the rocky landscapes. Mountains surrounding us, trees below us and wide open spaces, fields, lining the horizon. We spent a while climbing around on the boulders, soaking up the sunlight, staring off into the distance. A definite highlight of the whole trip so far. I didn’t want to come down off that serene rocky paradise.
After slowly finding our way back down, me being the last because I just can’t stop taking pictures, we took another short hike to a cave with Aboriginal painting on the walls. Although not much is known about the place, it is speculated that it was a place where children learned the art of cave painting, drawing emu and kangaroo tracks and making handprints. Even through the wire fence protecting the paintings, it was quite amazing to be standing in front of such ancient art.
12:55noon, no make that 12:25noon… just crossing the border between Victoria and South Australia. Things that change: the time (half an hour), the speed limit (100km/h to 110km/h) and the ability to own 2 weed plants without being prosecuted.
6:30pm… Sitting in the Canon Street Backpackers in Adelaide. The rest of our journey took us through lots of farmland and a truck stop along the highway, where cattle and sheep were dancing polka in their cramped limousines. We did get to stretch our legs next to a wildlife park with white kangaroos and before heading into the city, we drove up a mountain to get a view of the Adelaide hills and the city, all the way to the coast. Spent most of the ride occupied with music – I have found that the Garden State soundtrack, the 500 Girls of Summer soundtrack and the Blow soundtrack make for really good background music while driving through the countryside – and episodes of “Die Drei Fragezeichen”. My first impression of the city is: small. And yes, I know it is Sunday, but driving into it and walking through the streets a few moments ago really felt like being in a ghost town. The hostel seems close to deserted, compared to the hustle and bustle in Melbourne, and is so quiet that you can hear the echo of your own talking in the halls. Will head down to the bar for free apple pie and cream at 8pm and see if that won’t attract the other life forms in here.
Chapter 12 "The Great Ocean Road"
27.08.2010
After packing my bag in the dark, half asleep and going over this in my mind a few times, making sure I didn’t forget anything on, under or about my bed, I had a quick breakfast and stood out on the corner of Spencer and Flinders at 7am this morning. Also waiting there for the Groovy Grapes Tour Bus to come pick us up on our adventure was a German couple and around the corner another, surprise surprise, fellow German traveler. Whales, our tour guide for the next 3 days, helped us load our bags into the portable luggage room being dragged behind our bus and we were off to St. Kilda to pick up the rest of the group - two girls from, wherelse, Germany and a French couple.
The first hour or so of the tour was spent on the freeway and asleep, till, at around 9am, we reached Torquay – the home of Quiksilver and Rip Curl. This little town, dubbed “surf city”, was lined with factory outlets and warehouses, which we spent walking around through as the indecisive weather changed from rain to shine every 10minutes. I cannot deny that the warehouse selling those usually so unaffordable surfer brands for very reasonable prices weren’t tempting. But thinking back on the physical strength needed to close up that suitcase of mine this morning and the long and expensive way ahead of me here in Australia helped hold me back. I could not however leave behind this black hoodie for 5$... I mean, 5$!
From Torquay we drove onwards and stopped at Bells Beach, most famous for being a venue for international professional surfing tournaments. This beach also marked the beginning of the Great Ocean Road. In 1919 Australian soldiers were put to work building what was meant to be a service road for the whaling industry. The roundabout 3000 men took 20 years to complete the task and today, the Great Ocean Road is the world’s longest war memorial drive and the most scenic route along the coasts of Australia. It is divided into four sections, the first of which is called the “Surf Section”. High cliffs and massive waves down on the beach line the stretch of road, which presented itself to us in rain, shine, blues and gray skies. Sometimes it felt as if the rain just waited for us to get out of the comfort of our warm and dry bus. At others we were greeted and presented with the most beautiful photo ops imaginable. The towns of Lorne and Apollo Bay, both former towns built for the whaling industry and today a popular holiday getaway for people coming from Melbourne, are also part of the surf section.
We stopped for lunch at a roadside café called the Koala Cove Café. Our guide told us to head down a little street and sure enough, we found two little koalas up in the eucalyptus trees, one snoozing and one eating – so basically we got to see them doing what they do most of the time. Very cute little furry animals, I must say. Next, we were given a handful of birdseed and suddenly found ourselves surrounded by colorful birds, landing on our arms, shoulders and heads. The food at the café was surprisingly good and I ate my first veggie pattie burger with delight. We left the café right after seeing three Kookaburras being fed with strips of steak. Beautiful birds, but the loud clicking of their beaks and their rapid smacking of the meat against the signs was kind of intimidating. These carnivorous birds catch small rodents, reptiles and amphibians and whack them against the ground to kill and tenderize their meal.
The next section of the GOR is called the “Rainforest Section” and although it has receded over the course of time and the development of towns along the road (and our guide said it’s not a real (tropical) rainforest to begin with), we got to take a walk through a beautiful stretch of forest. Mait Rainforest Walk is lined with juicy green ferns, a small stream which you hear all along the way and a mixture of gigantic old eucalyptus trees and thinner trees (whose names I don’t know). The eucalyptus is quite the smart tree, as is sheds it’s bark, it creates fuel for forest fires around itself. One would think that trees usually try to avoid fires, but the eucalyptus needs the hear for its seed pods to open and drop the seeds (which are then eaten by forest creatures and geographically redistributed by means of their digestive tract).
We headed into the third section, the “Sand Section” and stopped by the Gibson Steps, named after Hugh Gibson, who lived by the cliff theses steps were carved into. Today there’s a wooden staircase leading down to a beautiful sandy beach, on which the waves just don’t stop crashing in. From the top, the coastline is white with the breaking waves and the beach is contoured by a line of white foam, thick and fluffy.
Here is also where the sandstakes start. Huge formations lining the coast, like towering islands or pieces of the cliff that have broken off and drifted a few meters out to sea. In reality, they are formed with the movement of the sea, the sand and lots of time. Loch Ard Gorge, our next stop, was named after a tragic ship wreck which happened in 1878. Our guide called it the Titanic of Australia. Coming too close to the shore, the mast of a large passenger ship hit a cliff by the gorge, broke off, pierced the hull and sank the ship. Everyone onboard died, except for a young deckhand named Tom Pierce (17) who later then saved the daughter of a wealthy family Eva Carmichael (18) from the water (really does sound like the Titanic story). The story became famous through the media, that started pressuring the two survivors to get married. She declined and moved back to Ireland. He continued to work on ships and eventually got shipwrecked again and drowned. In the end, he had only asked her to marry him because he had seen through her wet night gown as he rescued her and it would have been the honorable thing to do, at the time. Their graves were right on top of the cliffs by the gorge… We walked down onto the beach where he washed up and afterwards pulled her out of the water.
Our final photo op and scenic stop for the day were the 12 Apostles, the third most visited sight in Australia. The 12 Apostles are actually more than 12 (sandstakes), of which only 9 can be seen from the viewing platform. Also, when they were discovered by a Frenchman, he had named them the Pigglets, which was later deemed inappropriate in the 1950s when the area started becoming a popular family holiday destination. The tallest one is about 47m high. Just our luck, the wooden walkway along the edge of the cliff was closed off, because something had broken off a while back. Still, at three different angles, the formations surrounded by the wild ocean and backlit by the setting sun and the doomsday clouds, the 12 Apostles were truly a spectacular sight. They reminded me a bit of the Cliffs of Mohair in Ireland, but less windy and more waves. The light was beautiful, the sight was amazing and in that moment, I was a bit sad not to be sharing it with someone.
We backtracked a bit to our hostel, the 13th Apostle, for the night in the “town” of Princetown (more like Prince-a-couple-of-houses-next-to-each-other), a cute little house we had all to ourselves. We were divided into groups, of which one was to help out with cooking and the other with washing the dishes. And I must give it to Whales the tour guide, he served us a damn good dinner.
28.08.2010
Couldn’t have had a better breakfast – yummy cereals, yoghurt, hot milky tea, toast and all the stuff you could wish for on top of it. The only thing I would have loved to change was the fact that by 7:15am, the breakfast table was to be empty and everything stored away. Before leaving the hostel, we received the most beautiful morning greeting – a full intense rainbow, getting stronger by the minute, with its end close enough to run to, just down the field. It even had a pale little brother right behind it. That, the great empty plains and the morning dew, made for a beautiful way to wake up in the middle of nowhere. Another early day for us Groovy Grapes. We left at 7:30 and paid another short visit to the 12 Apostles, to see them bathed in morning sunlight.
Our trip took us further along the Sand Section of the Great Ocean Road. We visited the London Bridge, another sandstone formation, named after the original in London because of its two arches. In 1990 however, one of these arches collapsed, so today it is an island a few meters off the coast with one arch. Whales told us the story about the collapse, saying that a couple had just crossed the first arch, when it collapsed into the sea, stranding them on the rest of it. Of course, the media rushed to the scene and broadcasted it nationwide. The only problem, aside from rescue helicopters taking their time due to the fact that it wasn’t a life threatening situation, was that the married couple was not married to each other, but had told their partner that they were on business trips in Melbourne. Lesson: Don’t wander onto sandstone formations when having an affair.
In the Bay of Martyrs and the Bay of islands, we looked at a few more of the majestic pillars emerging along the coastline. Seagulls nesting on the greener ones sometimes flew in noisy flocks above our heads. The towering islands were formed thanks to thousands of year of erosion, and as the sea levels continues to rise, they will continue to collapse and disappear into the ocean. The only reason why some are still standing is because of the granite rock in their foundation… Those last stops in the sand section were much appreciated, used for last impressions, last cliff photos and, for me, my last cigarette from Manila. I have now switched back to rolling my own smokes and will attempt to cut down up to the point of possibly even quitting. Being in the most expensive country for smokers will do that to you.
The fourth and final section, the “Farm Section”, of the Great Ocean Road had, as the name suggests, farm landscapes to offer. We drove through miles and miles of cows, fields and swampy areas. Not very exciting, but relaxing and perfect for a much needed nap. A short stop at Logan’s Beach, with the hopes of seeing whales which breed in that area around this time of year, was cut short because of rain – the light drizzly kind that soaks you without you noticing it. We did see a single body boarder amongst the massive waves, before heading back to the bus though.
In Warrnmbool we stopped at a Safeway so Whales could shop for lunch and dinner and we could stretch our legs and buy whatever alcoholic beverages or snacks we might require. I have developed a slight addiction to Tim Tams, trying hard not to OD on those chocolatey pieces of heaven… Our lunch was prepared on an electric BBQ in a little park – sausages, onions, bread rolls, salad, cheese and all the sauces you could want. I must say, the Aussie BBQ hotdog is quite delicious and after two, you are stuffed and ready for the next nap.
After packing my bag in the dark, half asleep and going over this in my mind a few times, making sure I didn’t forget anything on, under or about my bed, I had a quick breakfast and stood out on the corner of Spencer and Flinders at 7am this morning. Also waiting there for the Groovy Grapes Tour Bus to come pick us up on our adventure was a German couple and around the corner another, surprise surprise, fellow German traveler. Whales, our tour guide for the next 3 days, helped us load our bags into the portable luggage room being dragged behind our bus and we were off to St. Kilda to pick up the rest of the group - two girls from, wherelse, Germany and a French couple.
The first hour or so of the tour was spent on the freeway and asleep, till, at around 9am, we reached Torquay – the home of Quiksilver and Rip Curl. This little town, dubbed “surf city”, was lined with factory outlets and warehouses, which we spent walking around through as the indecisive weather changed from rain to shine every 10minutes. I cannot deny that the warehouse selling those usually so unaffordable surfer brands for very reasonable prices weren’t tempting. But thinking back on the physical strength needed to close up that suitcase of mine this morning and the long and expensive way ahead of me here in Australia helped hold me back. I could not however leave behind this black hoodie for 5$... I mean, 5$!
From Torquay we drove onwards and stopped at Bells Beach, most famous for being a venue for international professional surfing tournaments. This beach also marked the beginning of the Great Ocean Road. In 1919 Australian soldiers were put to work building what was meant to be a service road for the whaling industry. The roundabout 3000 men took 20 years to complete the task and today, the Great Ocean Road is the world’s longest war memorial drive and the most scenic route along the coasts of Australia. It is divided into four sections, the first of which is called the “Surf Section”. High cliffs and massive waves down on the beach line the stretch of road, which presented itself to us in rain, shine, blues and gray skies. Sometimes it felt as if the rain just waited for us to get out of the comfort of our warm and dry bus. At others we were greeted and presented with the most beautiful photo ops imaginable. The towns of Lorne and Apollo Bay, both former towns built for the whaling industry and today a popular holiday getaway for people coming from Melbourne, are also part of the surf section.
We stopped for lunch at a roadside café called the Koala Cove Café. Our guide told us to head down a little street and sure enough, we found two little koalas up in the eucalyptus trees, one snoozing and one eating – so basically we got to see them doing what they do most of the time. Very cute little furry animals, I must say. Next, we were given a handful of birdseed and suddenly found ourselves surrounded by colorful birds, landing on our arms, shoulders and heads. The food at the café was surprisingly good and I ate my first veggie pattie burger with delight. We left the café right after seeing three Kookaburras being fed with strips of steak. Beautiful birds, but the loud clicking of their beaks and their rapid smacking of the meat against the signs was kind of intimidating. These carnivorous birds catch small rodents, reptiles and amphibians and whack them against the ground to kill and tenderize their meal.
The next section of the GOR is called the “Rainforest Section” and although it has receded over the course of time and the development of towns along the road (and our guide said it’s not a real (tropical) rainforest to begin with), we got to take a walk through a beautiful stretch of forest. Mait Rainforest Walk is lined with juicy green ferns, a small stream which you hear all along the way and a mixture of gigantic old eucalyptus trees and thinner trees (whose names I don’t know). The eucalyptus is quite the smart tree, as is sheds it’s bark, it creates fuel for forest fires around itself. One would think that trees usually try to avoid fires, but the eucalyptus needs the hear for its seed pods to open and drop the seeds (which are then eaten by forest creatures and geographically redistributed by means of their digestive tract).
We headed into the third section, the “Sand Section” and stopped by the Gibson Steps, named after Hugh Gibson, who lived by the cliff theses steps were carved into. Today there’s a wooden staircase leading down to a beautiful sandy beach, on which the waves just don’t stop crashing in. From the top, the coastline is white with the breaking waves and the beach is contoured by a line of white foam, thick and fluffy.
Here is also where the sandstakes start. Huge formations lining the coast, like towering islands or pieces of the cliff that have broken off and drifted a few meters out to sea. In reality, they are formed with the movement of the sea, the sand and lots of time. Loch Ard Gorge, our next stop, was named after a tragic ship wreck which happened in 1878. Our guide called it the Titanic of Australia. Coming too close to the shore, the mast of a large passenger ship hit a cliff by the gorge, broke off, pierced the hull and sank the ship. Everyone onboard died, except for a young deckhand named Tom Pierce (17) who later then saved the daughter of a wealthy family Eva Carmichael (18) from the water (really does sound like the Titanic story). The story became famous through the media, that started pressuring the two survivors to get married. She declined and moved back to Ireland. He continued to work on ships and eventually got shipwrecked again and drowned. In the end, he had only asked her to marry him because he had seen through her wet night gown as he rescued her and it would have been the honorable thing to do, at the time. Their graves were right on top of the cliffs by the gorge… We walked down onto the beach where he washed up and afterwards pulled her out of the water.
Our final photo op and scenic stop for the day were the 12 Apostles, the third most visited sight in Australia. The 12 Apostles are actually more than 12 (sandstakes), of which only 9 can be seen from the viewing platform. Also, when they were discovered by a Frenchman, he had named them the Pigglets, which was later deemed inappropriate in the 1950s when the area started becoming a popular family holiday destination. The tallest one is about 47m high. Just our luck, the wooden walkway along the edge of the cliff was closed off, because something had broken off a while back. Still, at three different angles, the formations surrounded by the wild ocean and backlit by the setting sun and the doomsday clouds, the 12 Apostles were truly a spectacular sight. They reminded me a bit of the Cliffs of Mohair in Ireland, but less windy and more waves. The light was beautiful, the sight was amazing and in that moment, I was a bit sad not to be sharing it with someone.
We backtracked a bit to our hostel, the 13th Apostle, for the night in the “town” of Princetown (more like Prince-a-couple-of-houses-next-to-each-other), a cute little house we had all to ourselves. We were divided into groups, of which one was to help out with cooking and the other with washing the dishes. And I must give it to Whales the tour guide, he served us a damn good dinner.
28.08.2010
Couldn’t have had a better breakfast – yummy cereals, yoghurt, hot milky tea, toast and all the stuff you could wish for on top of it. The only thing I would have loved to change was the fact that by 7:15am, the breakfast table was to be empty and everything stored away. Before leaving the hostel, we received the most beautiful morning greeting – a full intense rainbow, getting stronger by the minute, with its end close enough to run to, just down the field. It even had a pale little brother right behind it. That, the great empty plains and the morning dew, made for a beautiful way to wake up in the middle of nowhere. Another early day for us Groovy Grapes. We left at 7:30 and paid another short visit to the 12 Apostles, to see them bathed in morning sunlight.
Our trip took us further along the Sand Section of the Great Ocean Road. We visited the London Bridge, another sandstone formation, named after the original in London because of its two arches. In 1990 however, one of these arches collapsed, so today it is an island a few meters off the coast with one arch. Whales told us the story about the collapse, saying that a couple had just crossed the first arch, when it collapsed into the sea, stranding them on the rest of it. Of course, the media rushed to the scene and broadcasted it nationwide. The only problem, aside from rescue helicopters taking their time due to the fact that it wasn’t a life threatening situation, was that the married couple was not married to each other, but had told their partner that they were on business trips in Melbourne. Lesson: Don’t wander onto sandstone formations when having an affair.
In the Bay of Martyrs and the Bay of islands, we looked at a few more of the majestic pillars emerging along the coastline. Seagulls nesting on the greener ones sometimes flew in noisy flocks above our heads. The towering islands were formed thanks to thousands of year of erosion, and as the sea levels continues to rise, they will continue to collapse and disappear into the ocean. The only reason why some are still standing is because of the granite rock in their foundation… Those last stops in the sand section were much appreciated, used for last impressions, last cliff photos and, for me, my last cigarette from Manila. I have now switched back to rolling my own smokes and will attempt to cut down up to the point of possibly even quitting. Being in the most expensive country for smokers will do that to you.
The fourth and final section, the “Farm Section”, of the Great Ocean Road had, as the name suggests, farm landscapes to offer. We drove through miles and miles of cows, fields and swampy areas. Not very exciting, but relaxing and perfect for a much needed nap. A short stop at Logan’s Beach, with the hopes of seeing whales which breed in that area around this time of year, was cut short because of rain – the light drizzly kind that soaks you without you noticing it. We did see a single body boarder amongst the massive waves, before heading back to the bus though.
In Warrnmbool we stopped at a Safeway so Whales could shop for lunch and dinner and we could stretch our legs and buy whatever alcoholic beverages or snacks we might require. I have developed a slight addiction to Tim Tams, trying hard not to OD on those chocolatey pieces of heaven… Our lunch was prepared on an electric BBQ in a little park – sausages, onions, bread rolls, salad, cheese and all the sauces you could want. I must say, the Aussie BBQ hotdog is quite delicious and after two, you are stuffed and ready for the next nap.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Chapter 11 "A day in the life of a hostel"
(I will now attempt to put myself into the mindset of a hostel and tell you about my day)
A hostel, in other words I, never sleeps. And even if I wanted to, I don’t believe it would be possible. If it weren’t for the never ending noise from the trams rolling and screeching by or the ticking of the pedestrian stop light all day (audible all the way into my tv-lounge) outside my doorstep, it would be because of my count- and restless guests.
My reception is open 24/7, meaning my door opens and falls shut at all hours of the day. If the rooms aren’t ready yet, I accommodate you, the waiting travelers, in the common room/kitchen, where you can sit around, get used to the sights, sounds and smells (!) of these four walls or catch some shut eye while waiting for former occupants to check out or the busy housekeepers to fix up the room. Once you’ve lugged your backpacks, suitcases, hand carries, camera and laptop bags, sleeping bags and tents, your roll of linen and yourself up the one, two or three flights of stairs and have located your humble abode along the hallways (and have a working key card, not always a given), you will find simple bunk beds, mattresses covered in slippery plastic, a blanket and a pillow. What more could you ask for? If you’re lucky, you might even find up to 6 of those bunks (meaning 12 beds) in that room. And if you’re really lucky, you’ll dive straight into an inhabited world of half empty backpacks, fully plugged sockets, dirty laundry piles, cups and glasses hidden under the bunks, wet towels draped over the only bunk left, bottles and junk food wrappers floating around not belonging to anyone and you will be greeted by a very “lived-in” scent, wafting towards you in welcome. You might be the one to live in a 4 bed dorm, shared a few nights with plastic-bag rustling Japanese girls or drunk, fried chicken munching Aussie party people. Or the only lucky lady in a 10 bed dorm filled with guys or a Dutch guy falling out of the bunk above you in his underwear at an ungodly hour in the morning. I’m just like a surprise goody bag; you pay for it and never know what you might end up getting.
During the day, if the weather is somewhat agreeable, it can get quite quiet in my hallways, because most of you want to make the most of your stay here in this city and are out tripping around. Breakfast takes place anytime between 6am and 3pm, and you manage to keep a steady flow of Wheetbix, toast and jam, tea or noodle soups going during these hours. But come evening and your skinny wallet has once again left you with no choice but my free pasta and the cheapest ready-made pasta sauce from Cole’s, you all come flocking into my heart – the kitchen. It is definitely the most alive, with people, with produce and with things I wish weren’t alive in there. You struggle to find a plate, a bowl, a pan, a pot – anything to boil some water in, anything to eat from and anything to scoop food into your mouth with. Forks are an endangered species in the depths of my sinks, so are cups with handles. Pots and pans that aren’t blackened and encrusted have sadly become extinct. But you can eat pasta (or steak) with a spoon, right? Of course. And do you really mind washing your tea cup with an oily pot-brush? Didn’t think so. In the end, it is actually all up to you anyways. Some of you, the more courteous lot, have read the signs my caring managers have put up about washing your own dishes and leaving behind a clean kitchen. I shun you others, yes you, you know I’m looking down at you right now, while you once again only dump your plate into the sink you have already clogged with pasta.
My evenings have me singing lullabies to you who work all day and go to bed by 7pm, keeping the more relaxed entertained in the TV room, the more thirsty happy with tetra pack wine in the common room and the more neon-diseased out of my rooms and on the city streets. By the time the latter decide to sway their way home and have found the right room and the right bed, the first alarm starts ringing (more often than not a couple of times before you start to budge) and the first cups of coffee are made.
You’ll be happy to hear that I have a few bathrooms on each floor. And I’m happy about the fact that they are never all functioning and open at the same time, because if I gave you all the chance to shower at the same time, my hot and cold water wouldn’t be able to handle the strain and I’d be freezing half an boiling the other half of you (then again, this already happens when two cabins next to each other are occupied). Ladies, on the first floor, there are some excellent modern shower stalls, where you can actually hang your towel and put down your clothes on a ledge and can avoid getting them wet. But as I can see, quite a few of you enjoy walking out of the shower only to bump into the half naked and towel clad barefoot guys brushing their teeth (or not). I’ve realized that on weekends, my bathrooms turn into the favorite place for quite a few of you – those who use it only to empty your bladder, consistently being filled by a slow (or not so slow) and steady stream of alcohol, those who empty their stomach contents thanks to the already mentioned stream, those who use it to roll up controlled substances, leaving crumbs all over the toilet seat (I must say, I find that quite unhygienic), and those who think that bathrooms are more private that dorm rooms and use it for a romantic getaway. Ah yes, weekends are definitely the most entertaining for me to watch over.
I hope I haven’t given you the wrong impression about my daily life, because, in the end, it is probably the most colorful and un-boring life one can lead. I meet more people in one week than hotel-travelers do in a month, I hear more exciting stories than a travel book publisher, I am more multicultural than anyone could ever be and I am more alive than you could ever imagine. I see beautiful smiles, connect random people and touch lives in appropriate and inappropriate places – how much better can it get?
A hostel, in other words I, never sleeps. And even if I wanted to, I don’t believe it would be possible. If it weren’t for the never ending noise from the trams rolling and screeching by or the ticking of the pedestrian stop light all day (audible all the way into my tv-lounge) outside my doorstep, it would be because of my count- and restless guests.
My reception is open 24/7, meaning my door opens and falls shut at all hours of the day. If the rooms aren’t ready yet, I accommodate you, the waiting travelers, in the common room/kitchen, where you can sit around, get used to the sights, sounds and smells (!) of these four walls or catch some shut eye while waiting for former occupants to check out or the busy housekeepers to fix up the room. Once you’ve lugged your backpacks, suitcases, hand carries, camera and laptop bags, sleeping bags and tents, your roll of linen and yourself up the one, two or three flights of stairs and have located your humble abode along the hallways (and have a working key card, not always a given), you will find simple bunk beds, mattresses covered in slippery plastic, a blanket and a pillow. What more could you ask for? If you’re lucky, you might even find up to 6 of those bunks (meaning 12 beds) in that room. And if you’re really lucky, you’ll dive straight into an inhabited world of half empty backpacks, fully plugged sockets, dirty laundry piles, cups and glasses hidden under the bunks, wet towels draped over the only bunk left, bottles and junk food wrappers floating around not belonging to anyone and you will be greeted by a very “lived-in” scent, wafting towards you in welcome. You might be the one to live in a 4 bed dorm, shared a few nights with plastic-bag rustling Japanese girls or drunk, fried chicken munching Aussie party people. Or the only lucky lady in a 10 bed dorm filled with guys or a Dutch guy falling out of the bunk above you in his underwear at an ungodly hour in the morning. I’m just like a surprise goody bag; you pay for it and never know what you might end up getting.
During the day, if the weather is somewhat agreeable, it can get quite quiet in my hallways, because most of you want to make the most of your stay here in this city and are out tripping around. Breakfast takes place anytime between 6am and 3pm, and you manage to keep a steady flow of Wheetbix, toast and jam, tea or noodle soups going during these hours. But come evening and your skinny wallet has once again left you with no choice but my free pasta and the cheapest ready-made pasta sauce from Cole’s, you all come flocking into my heart – the kitchen. It is definitely the most alive, with people, with produce and with things I wish weren’t alive in there. You struggle to find a plate, a bowl, a pan, a pot – anything to boil some water in, anything to eat from and anything to scoop food into your mouth with. Forks are an endangered species in the depths of my sinks, so are cups with handles. Pots and pans that aren’t blackened and encrusted have sadly become extinct. But you can eat pasta (or steak) with a spoon, right? Of course. And do you really mind washing your tea cup with an oily pot-brush? Didn’t think so. In the end, it is actually all up to you anyways. Some of you, the more courteous lot, have read the signs my caring managers have put up about washing your own dishes and leaving behind a clean kitchen. I shun you others, yes you, you know I’m looking down at you right now, while you once again only dump your plate into the sink you have already clogged with pasta.
My evenings have me singing lullabies to you who work all day and go to bed by 7pm, keeping the more relaxed entertained in the TV room, the more thirsty happy with tetra pack wine in the common room and the more neon-diseased out of my rooms and on the city streets. By the time the latter decide to sway their way home and have found the right room and the right bed, the first alarm starts ringing (more often than not a couple of times before you start to budge) and the first cups of coffee are made.
You’ll be happy to hear that I have a few bathrooms on each floor. And I’m happy about the fact that they are never all functioning and open at the same time, because if I gave you all the chance to shower at the same time, my hot and cold water wouldn’t be able to handle the strain and I’d be freezing half an boiling the other half of you (then again, this already happens when two cabins next to each other are occupied). Ladies, on the first floor, there are some excellent modern shower stalls, where you can actually hang your towel and put down your clothes on a ledge and can avoid getting them wet. But as I can see, quite a few of you enjoy walking out of the shower only to bump into the half naked and towel clad barefoot guys brushing their teeth (or not). I’ve realized that on weekends, my bathrooms turn into the favorite place for quite a few of you – those who use it only to empty your bladder, consistently being filled by a slow (or not so slow) and steady stream of alcohol, those who empty their stomach contents thanks to the already mentioned stream, those who use it to roll up controlled substances, leaving crumbs all over the toilet seat (I must say, I find that quite unhygienic), and those who think that bathrooms are more private that dorm rooms and use it for a romantic getaway. Ah yes, weekends are definitely the most entertaining for me to watch over.
I hope I haven’t given you the wrong impression about my daily life, because, in the end, it is probably the most colorful and un-boring life one can lead. I meet more people in one week than hotel-travelers do in a month, I hear more exciting stories than a travel book publisher, I am more multicultural than anyone could ever be and I am more alive than you could ever imagine. I see beautiful smiles, connect random people and touch lives in appropriate and inappropriate places – how much better can it get?
Chapter 10 "Don't like the weather....? Wait 5mins."
So far, my great Australian adventure has taken place in one (little) city – Melbourne. One remarkable feature of this area is the weather, which, thank god, has been improving in the last days. I arrived and was greeted by a gray 8degrees, which have climbed to a pleasant 14degrees in the past 2 weeks, but in general, the weather forecasts here are quite amusing to follow, because you usually have sun, clouds, wind and rain predicted for pretty much every day and it’s always a gamble when stepping outside, never really knowing what to expect. Leaving the hostel in sunshine can mean coming back an hour later with wet feet (because I do not always run around in the most waterproof shoes when not needed). Wrapping up nice and warm to take a walk on a gray blustery day can mean suddenly sweating and wishing you had brought your sunglasses just a few steps out the door. The latter example has proven to be the more enjoyable one, of course. I’ve optimistically bought picnic goods (Turkish piede bread, 3 dips and some olives) on a sunny day strolling through the market, only to have to rush into a covered brick gazebo after the first few bites. I’ve lugged around an extra jacket on a looong walk along the beach, because the wind I had previously experienced there had decided to stay away.
The in-betweens, the moments in which the weather decides to flip, can however be quite beautiful. Watching clouds brighten and take flight within fifteen minutes, revealing a bright blue sky and letting the colors around you come to life, like turning up the saturation when tweaking pictures… And while the sun still bounces off the high rises and reflects off the green of the trees and grassy patches, the gray clouds in the background get darker and darker, you get an end-of-the-world kind of atmosphere – beauty and danger, darkness and light. The Yarra River seems to be used to its fluctuating surroundings, it stays a constant murky light brown, the only stable element in the ever-changing portrait of Melbourne. Only at night, when the city lights illuminate the surface and wind creates patches of ripples upon it, it appears to be dancing to the weathers strange tune.
Note: When in Melbourne (in winter), be prepared for any and every weather condition.
The in-betweens, the moments in which the weather decides to flip, can however be quite beautiful. Watching clouds brighten and take flight within fifteen minutes, revealing a bright blue sky and letting the colors around you come to life, like turning up the saturation when tweaking pictures… And while the sun still bounces off the high rises and reflects off the green of the trees and grassy patches, the gray clouds in the background get darker and darker, you get an end-of-the-world kind of atmosphere – beauty and danger, darkness and light. The Yarra River seems to be used to its fluctuating surroundings, it stays a constant murky light brown, the only stable element in the ever-changing portrait of Melbourne. Only at night, when the city lights illuminate the surface and wind creates patches of ripples upon it, it appears to be dancing to the weathers strange tune.
Note: When in Melbourne (in winter), be prepared for any and every weather condition.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Chapter 9 "Do you want to go to the Seaside?"
17.08.2010
Opening my eyes to the sunlight streaming in through the cracks of the window shades is always a wonderful way to wake up. Especially after days of gray skies and rain. After getting keys cut and slipping the postcards into a box, I was visited on this side of town by Sebastian. After only a bit over the week, it feels like I know the streets of the city centre quite well already. The grid is quite easy to remember and even stores and restaurants seem to be burned into my memory. St. Kilda however was still unchartered territory. We walked down Carlisle Street, with its many funky stores, cute cafes, deliciously tempting bakeries and kosher butchers. The residential streets are lined with cute houses, red brick or dark green painted wood (my two favorites), Victorian styles with the grand décor carved into the wood… Quite a nice contrast to the high rises in the city centre – everything is small and quaint and cozy looking. At the end of the street, we hit the beach – or more like the beach hit us, with its beauty, its smell of kelp and salt, its sounds of light waves and seagulls. After having seen the sandy coastline during a gray and windy evening, the bright blue sky and calm dark blue waters stopped me dead in my tracks. After enjoying the sunny sight for a few minutes, we walked to the left, away from the city skyline, away from the pier we had been to already to visit the penguins and towards nowhere specific. Being out in the sun lifts my spirits every time, but being able to run around in sunglasses after days of rain and lack of light was like shooting up to the stars. The vegetation along the beach is so different from what I’ve seen, pale green salt bushes, bright green grass, wind-blown trees growing low to the ground and leaning over like they’ve had too much wine…We walked. And walked. And walked.
And walked. Passed the marina with its sail and speed boats and yachts on which I wished I could just hop on and speed off, continuing my journey by boat. Passed little rocky piers and sandy beaches and many locals walking their dogs. We stopped every once in a while, had a cigarette and a rest to soak in the sights more deeply. Once lying on the rocks next to people fishing, once in the cold sand surrounded by kelp and washed up jellyfish…The houses got larger and more impressive to our left and the ocean stayed big and beautiful to our right. At some point we turned around, knowing that we’d have to walk the whole way back as well. We gathered out strength in a Fish&Chips restaurant and then made our way back, the sun in our faces.
The one day where I dress up nice and warm and even bring an extra jacket and it’s the one day where I can even take my jacket off for a short period. Sitting on a hilltop, apparently an old aboriginal campsite, the view that stretched out in front of me was…Melbourne. The ocean at our side, the beach glowing in the late afternoon sun ahead, green grass of a park rolling down the hill and spreading out beneath it, the city’s skyscraper skyline, not too tall, not too wide, not too cluttered or too gapped, along the horizon and a path that winds through it all…
After walking for six and a half hours, my feet throbbing accordingly, I’m back at the apartment and can’t wait to feel my head sink into the pillow, to drift off into deep sleep and dream of hilltops, warm rocks, cold sand and sunlight.
Notes: Seaside - The Kooks
After walking for six and a half hours, my feet throbbing accordingly, I’m back at the apartment and can’t wait to feel my head sink into the pillow, to drift off into deep sleep and dream of hilltops, warm rocks, cold sand and sunlight.
Notes: Seaside - The Kooks
Chapter 8 "Blurry Blustery Weekend"
14.-16.08.2010
Not being as disciplined at writing everyday has caused the last few days to blur together into streets and restaurants and walks and rain and sitting in the hostel common room…Friday night left me cravin for a good night’s sleep, which I was deprived of, because my Japanese roommates checked out at 5:30am, turned on the lights and finished their packing (by the sounds of it every single item was in a plastic bag). After tossing and turning, listening to a few chapters of my audiobook and then giving up on the deep sleep part, I spent Saturday morning/noonish at Federation Square with its free internet and pesky seagulls.
After pasta and tea in the hostel, the afternoon was spent walking through the city and along the Yarra river. Despite the gray weather, it stayed dry most of the time…
Looking forward to my empty room and a bit of rest before the Saturday night hostel noises, I got in just to find out that all three beds were taken by a group of Australian girls in town for a night of partying. The floor was already covered in clothes and make-up, bottles of lots of different colored liquids and an iPod station blasting something too girly for my taste. So instead, I rested watching Star Wars (Episode 5) and then heading back to the common room to join one of the post-dinner, pre-going out tables. Half a beer later I realized that 1.when I have a cold I can’t even hack a single beer and 2.alternating between beer and fizzy berocca (vitamin OD) tablets is actually quite enjoyable. The table consisted of a guy from Fiji who got up to shave his head after a while, a German and English guy who were latching on to two American girls, a Dutch guy who had travelled the Philippines and loved it (which already shone quite positive light on him), an Italian philosophy student becoming and Italian teacher here, a Kiwi starting his third set of studies and Sebastian, the German I’ve been tripping around Melbourne with the last week. Not really in the mood for drink, party or a long night out, Star Wars (Episode 6) became my Saturday night activity. Back in my room, it smelled like cigarettes and in the wee hours of the morning I was offered fried chicken from a bucket standing in the middle of the room.
On Sunday, after a warm and comfortable night, I had to get up relatively early (no time will be stated at this point as not to reveal my perception of early on a Sunday) to check out. With my luggage in the luggage room, I had breakfast and headed out with Sebastian to the Queen Victoria Markets. This time around was more thorough than the last and we didn’t leave out a single aisle. No purchases this time, but a delicious Turkish pastry called borek, filled with spinach, cheese and parsley, piping hot and just hitting the spot, was devoured shortly before leaving the market… It was strange leaving the hostel, because although it was old and falling apart, the showers had temperature issues at times, the snoring and waking up early of roommates does get on your nerves and the kitchen has just a few (dozen) little faults, I had grown to like its dingy charm and the people who walk amongst it.
I took a train to Balaclava, was picked up at the station and moved into a room with an own double bed that is so comfortable I probably wouldn’t have left it on Monday morning if I didn’t have a few errands waiting for me in the city. After a visit to my bank to let them know my Tax File Number (wow, makes me feel so Aussie), I bought the few things already missing in my toiletries bag and sat down in a Krispy Kremes to have some coffee and doughnuts, a craving which just had to be satisfied. I wrote some postcards, my first on this journey and just enjoyed sitting by the window watching busy businessmen and women walk by, checking their watches, dragging on their cigarettes or talking while walking.
Aside from the free city circle tram, there’s a free city tour bus, which drives around Melbourne in an hour and a half, telling you about places to go, sights to see and historical landmarks of importance. The last one left at 3:45pm and I just about made it. The tour itself took you around a lot of places which I had already seen or heard about, but did drive around the Docklands and other outside-the-city areas a bit more. The stop before the last was the Shrine of Remembrance, a war memorial which looks like a mixture of a Greek, Aztec, Roman and Egyptian Temple.
The gardens around it were quite nice and you had a great view down the street all the way to Federation Square, passed which I walked looking for a bite to eat. Seeing and suddenly craving Vietnamese, the Mekong served a mean bowl of Pho Bo and some pretty good fresh spring rolls. After getting home, I found out that Bill Clinton had had a bowl of soup here as well. I must have missed the sign by the door.
Notes: Must write more regularly. Star Wars is truly great. Krispy Kremes kravings must be satisfied.
Not being as disciplined at writing everyday has caused the last few days to blur together into streets and restaurants and walks and rain and sitting in the hostel common room…Friday night left me cravin for a good night’s sleep, which I was deprived of, because my Japanese roommates checked out at 5:30am, turned on the lights and finished their packing (by the sounds of it every single item was in a plastic bag). After tossing and turning, listening to a few chapters of my audiobook and then giving up on the deep sleep part, I spent Saturday morning/noonish at Federation Square with its free internet and pesky seagulls.
After pasta and tea in the hostel, the afternoon was spent walking through the city and along the Yarra river. Despite the gray weather, it stayed dry most of the time…
On Sunday, after a warm and comfortable night, I had to get up relatively early (no time will be stated at this point as not to reveal my perception of early on a Sunday) to check out. With my luggage in the luggage room, I had breakfast and headed out with Sebastian to the Queen Victoria Markets. This time around was more thorough than the last and we didn’t leave out a single aisle. No purchases this time, but a delicious Turkish pastry called borek, filled with spinach, cheese and parsley, piping hot and just hitting the spot, was devoured shortly before leaving the market… It was strange leaving the hostel, because although it was old and falling apart, the showers had temperature issues at times, the snoring and waking up early of roommates does get on your nerves and the kitchen has just a few (dozen) little faults, I had grown to like its dingy charm and the people who walk amongst it.
I took a train to Balaclava, was picked up at the station and moved into a room with an own double bed that is so comfortable I probably wouldn’t have left it on Monday morning if I didn’t have a few errands waiting for me in the city. After a visit to my bank to let them know my Tax File Number (wow, makes me feel so Aussie), I bought the few things already missing in my toiletries bag and sat down in a Krispy Kremes to have some coffee and doughnuts, a craving which just had to be satisfied. I wrote some postcards, my first on this journey and just enjoyed sitting by the window watching busy businessmen and women walk by, checking their watches, dragging on their cigarettes or talking while walking.
Aside from the free city circle tram, there’s a free city tour bus, which drives around Melbourne in an hour and a half, telling you about places to go, sights to see and historical landmarks of importance. The last one left at 3:45pm and I just about made it. The tour itself took you around a lot of places which I had already seen or heard about, but did drive around the Docklands and other outside-the-city areas a bit more. The stop before the last was the Shrine of Remembrance, a war memorial which looks like a mixture of a Greek, Aztec, Roman and Egyptian Temple.
Notes: Must write more regularly. Star Wars is truly great. Krispy Kremes kravings must be satisfied.
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