Hello once more!  We're back in Canada, semi-healthy and maybe now we'll get caught up in this thing.

Oct. 28 Friday: The Melbourne Immigration Museum- Terrific!

Up we got and off we went, along a nicely non-twisty road to Melbourne. After a long detour caused by the lack of washrooms near Australian highways we were back at Pete and Brian's place sans Pete and Brian. With an afternoon stretching before us, we decided to become adventurous and head downtown.

We walked down the local street until we were in front of a college with others waiting for the bus. We checked with the driver that the bus did indeed go to the train station and also took his recommendation to purchase a day pass for getting around. After that we easily(and quickly) took a train to Southern Cross station and took a quick look around downtown Melbourne. We strolled by the main square and another train station that Meg heralded as being truly important. The big square was odd, as it didn't have large open spaces as these huge camouflage-coloured cubes jutted up from it (museum, we found out), making it hard to visualize its space.

Hunger dominated, so we headed up a nearby street and looked where the locals were eating. This guided us to a tiny counter that made yummy sandwiches cheap so we gobbled them up. Next, we strolled down the street to check out the Immigration Museum. We found out that they had a free tour that started at 3, so we waited a few minutes until it started. A few people joined us late and we had a small group when our guide got going. He spent a good 30 minutes going over the significance of the courtyard and by that point all but 4 of us had wandered off to explore the museum before it closed. The yard was where groups assembled but also contained an interesting area where people from various countries identified their relatives. Apparently cultural festivals were held there at various times of the year and it was an informational gathering point for many diaspora communities.

Finally back inside the building, we were shown the research centre where people were investigating their family trees. We then headed up to the museum proper, where he went over the structure of the place focusing on the largest room, which used to be the main processing hall when the building was a government office (Customs House). It now was dominated by a large ship-like structure where you could walk through room simulating cabins of passage and their features over the centuries.

With a little over an hour left before closing, our tour ended and we were free to explore. The floor he left us at had a montage of immigration history of Australia. The next room expanded on this with a huge time-line and artifacts from issues over the years. The ship room had computers with statistics and profiles of countries all over the world relative to Australia. The last room had an application interview simulation and display on discrimination and other issues surrounding immigration. The floor also had a rotating-display community room which held several television monitors displaying middle-eastern immigrants telling their stories.

The top floor had two separate displays. Their temporary space had a big thing on British WWII child immigrants, which was well set up. They had overviews and personal anecdotes and I hadn't realized it was so widespread. They had shipments until after the second world war and often the children weren't orphans but taken from their parents and shipped away. Tales of abuse and indentured servitude were abundant and there was a lot of information about Canada, which received lots of there kids. The other half of the floor was on how we perceive others and how that effects discrimination and racism. They had displays about responses to accents, cultural values, depictions in media and advertising etc. A museum well worth visiting.

We closed the place out and the skies were dark and threatening by this point. Meg wanted to check out the local YHA Hostel before we went back. You had to access it by elevator, so we waited longer than usual and could hear music playing. When the elevator door finally opened, it was full of drunk guys holding open beers with a blaster cranking tunes. This told us enough about the hostel, so we beat a hasty retreat.

We got caught in a little bit of rain but heard a huge downpour pounding the roof of the station while we tried to get advice about which platform our train departed from. We made our way back and were a little confused about getting back to the house, as the nearby university had two campuses and only one was close to Pete's place. Our travelling savvy got us back safely and Pete was soon home after us. We grabbed some pizza from a local place. Opened a few bottles of wine and had a fine, lazy meal with good company until we fell over late that night.

Saturday – Deadly Sins Brunch and Cousin Ted's Family History

Up late again, we went to one of Pete and Brian's favourite brunch places. The place was packed and we had a long wait in an upstairs throne room until we got a table. Their menu was based on the seven deadly sins and that translated into a really good, filling breakfast for all.

This was the weekend before the Melbourne Cup and all sorts of people were walking around in “derby” attire. Meg got great amusement watching gussied up women obviously not used to elevated heels tottering around, trying to strike a teetering sexiness. Pete and Brian drove us around the part of the city where someone rents their apartment and hung out and did some basic shopping.

Meg and I then went off to meet Cousin Ted, whose name was given to us by Terry. Our GPS did not like the address we were given, but got us close enough to find his place after ringing just one incorrect doorbell. He was an energetic fellow who had a real knowledge and interest in the family. His partner had the family tree largely worked out and on-line and they shared a book with Meghan about one branch of the family, of which she copied some relevant pages and mailed back later. We had a lively visit and found out many details, particularly about the political comings and goings of the family. Most significantly, Ted had has recently seen Meg's Uncle Paul and thought he could get his contact info. After a few drinks and some finger food we said goodbye and headed back.

A good night out.

It was our turn to treat for dinner, so we went out to a Thai place and had huge amounts of excellent food. We strolled trough a trendy coffee strip after eating and picked up some good gelato. Meg had enjoyed some wine at the restaurant and was strolling along talking to strangers, who were looking quite frightened about the whole situation. We packed her off home and fed her some tea, and she was reasonably calm in time for bed.

Sunday – Sunday Unitarians, Museums, and Zombies...

Pete whipped us up a gourmet breakfast and we all pigged out and cleaned our plate, some kinda omelette I think. Then we had to take off so that Meg could visit the Unitarians. I parked close to the church and went off in search of a coffee place to kill an hour. I found an empty pizza joint that served coffee where there was a kid whipping up dough balls for later. He didn't mind me nursing a coffee and just kept cranking old AC/DC hits while he did his work and waved to friends walking by.

Meg was only a little late and we found that we were right next to the downtown. We headed down to the main square to check out some museums. The parking rates were atrocious, but the museums were free so it balanced itself out. The Ian Victoria museum is a big modern irregular jagged building with quite a good collection of stuff. The ground floor had pretty much the best collection of Aboriginal art we'd seen. It had pieces from the original workshops in the 70s where painting was introduced to a northern community. These actually fit in with much of the collection, not being as raw or tentative as you'd expect. They had a good variety, with the classic dot paintings being mixed with arial map-like works and more variety in colour and styles than we'd seen elsewhere. The rest of the museum went through Australia's history pretty much in sequence. There were the standard Victorian portraits and landscapes working through to modern art installations. They had a room devoted to clothing through history, with the most interesting pieces being brash 70s suits.

We decided to get lunch and looked forward to another sandwich at the place we visited the previous day. The road was crowded and partially blocked due to the Melbourne Zombie Walk, which was much better attended than Toronto's. Several hundred people walked by us, from folks with just a bit of blood on their head to others who really looked like they'd just crawled out of a mouldering grave. The most bizarre couple were giant Lego people made into evil zombie Lego creatures, complete with green blood oozing out of their mouths. After struggling against the zombie crowd, we found that our sandwich place was closed. “Subway” had to suffice and we headed back to the square to see the bloodied hordes slowly disperse at the end of their trail.

Meg wanted to see more of the first museum and I went into the Visual Museum to check out the history of film and television in Australia. Here they have displays on perception, with a shadow puppet theatre, a computer that adds sinister extras to your shadow and distorted projections onto 3-D surfaces. They let you pick the music for a clip, make your own stop-action video and booklet and used a strobe light to make a spinning animation come alive. The film area featured famous Australian actors, directors, cinematographers, writers, costumers etc. each with their own areas with extensive video resources. They analyzed how Australia has been portrayed and had a brief history of media with changing priorities, from trends in film to viral internet videos. Most of the TV stuff was unfamiliar but the portrayal of the Aussie accent was interesting.

Beware the zombie Lego.

We met back at the first museum's gift shop and then headed back. Pete was doing the gourmet thing in the kitchen again and cooked up some succulent couscous. More eating and drinking etc. and then to bed.

Monday – Frightful Ferry Night Towards Transcendent Tasmania

Meg got us up super early to say goodbye to Pete as he had an early shift. We saw Brian at breakfast and spent the day getting organized. Shopping, phone calls, internet research, wasting time, that kind of thing. Pete actually came back before we left, so more goodbyes.

The drive to the ferry was short and the GPS got us right there. Then we sat in a disorganized parking area and actually got waved on ahead of cars who had been waiting longer than us. A few more stops by customs inspectors asking about fruit of vegetables and we were parked on the ferry. We found our recliner seats and explored the few floors that tourists were allowed onto. The top floor had the best views but didn’t have a functioning bar. It was also the meeting place for a rowdy high school group (whose teachers had to page several times to get all of its students assembled in one place). It was cold on deck but we had a nice departing view of Melbourne with the sunset glinting off skyscrapers beneath the dark sky.

Back on the ship we wandered some more and considered dinner. In the overpriced cafeteria most people were getting stew over noodles that may have tasted as grey as it looked. We opted for the posh restaurant which meant we had to wait until seats opened up. I couldn't understand the wait, as many tables were untouched when we showed up and were given a seat outside of the main area. This allowed the staff to easily forget we were there and service was extremely slow, but the food was fine (excellent appetizers, okay mains and desserts). Everything had a link with Tasmania, including some nice wine.

At the end of the meal, I hurried off to grab seats for the 10 pm movie while Meg paid the bill. No one noticed her motioning with her credit card, which was amazing as there were lots of staff and only a handful of diners at that point. She eventually approached them and got the bill settled. (One assumes that if they were working for tips then service situations like this would be less frequent).

Melbourne from the ferry.

The movie was the Lincoln Lawyer, more tolerable than I thought it would be but not worth staying up late for. At the end of the movie the ship started to lurch quite a bit and Meg went a bit green. We headed back to our recliners. Meg found that they hurt her back but I found them comfortable enough. The problem was this big old guy who was one of the worst snorers I've ever heard. This wasn't regular, loud-breathing type snores. It included loud vocalizations, sudden snorts and all kinds of hacking and hawking. Of the 70 or so people in the room, only one was a problem snorer. (It only takes one, though.) We both had a rotten sleep and vowed to try for a cabin on the way back...

Hello again!  We're currently in Istanbul and only 2 days away from returning to Canada.  Meg has a cold and I have bad toe, so we're a pretty sad pair at this point.  This city has changed immensely in 10 years, much cleaner and more prosperous but now the Istiklal is full of chain stores and almost looks like similar streets in western cities.  We hope to get more work done on this in the next month or so, hopefully getting into the habit of weekly postings.  See you back in Toronto!

  

Oct. 24 Sunday – ARARAT and a Sunday Roast..

We slept pretty well there and had a fine breakfast before moving on. We headed north to Ararat and were making good time along decent roads when the GPS put us on a shortcut along a one-lane road that turned into a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. I turned around while Meg fiddled with the thing until she set it for no dirt roads (as well as no toll roads). We got on our way and were only a little late in arriving at Marge's house.

Marge is the matriarch of one wing of the family and 3 out of 4 of her children; Peter, Robert and Ros, were there for a big feast of roast bird, which Pete had been slaving over all morning. Everyone was in fine spirits including Lucy the Jack Russell chasing Marge's sheepdog Bonnie all over the place. We greedily stuffed ourselves and got to know folks and had a fine lunch.

Lucy gets herself a drink.

After lunch we went out with Pete and Brian to look at their piece of land. Pete was pouncing on several examples of indigenous plants to show us while we strolled through the bush. We then went to his fields which had infrastructure from when sheep grazed there but his intention was to let nature reclaim the land and just use it as a natural space for visiting. A fine spot it was, with the Grampians in the background and Lucy swimming in an old sheep trough in the foreground. Of course he told us of the great bush fire that swept through the area a few years ago, and showed us what parts of the land were scorched.

Back at Marge’s place, we said goodbye to Marge's kids and they went home. That evening Marge surprised Meg with a very special gift. It was a family history scrapbook containing photos, family tree names and various mementos from this branch of Meg's family. It was quite impressive and entailed a lot of work, compiling, researching and copying photos as well as assembling them in a readable way. An incredible piece (which I shall treasure, particulalry as my parents are no longer alive so this history could have been lost forever to the Canadian branch of the family).

Meg quizzed her on more about the family while we had a light dinner, due to the huge lunch and then sat comfortably in the living room planning our visit and finding out more about Meg's roots. We tried some of the Hunter Valley white port we bought, it was excellent, and then headed off to bed.

Monday – Loved Ones and Ancestors

We got up and had breakfast, looking out the window at a cool, grey rainy day. Meg had energy, though, and took the dog, Bonnie, for a bit of a walk. It didn't last long, though, as the poor thing kept looking for Marge and straining on her leash so that they quickly did what needed doing and headed back.

The weather was somehow appropriate, as today was a day for wandering through graveyards and tracing Meg's ancestry. We started by taking a half hour drive down a rural road to the Willaura Cemetery where Meg's grandfather, and Marge's husband was buried. The cemetery was by the road and surrounded by farmers' fields, with the Grampian Mountain range faintly appearing through the mist around us. Flowers were lain on several graves of loved ones and names and dates were noted through the drizzle. We then toured Willaura itself, noting the family home and the small church across the road where many family members attended and had marriages. The town itself reeked of neglect (what does that mean exactly?ed.), being very quiet and poorly kept as well as being almost dead quiet.

We headed another half hour south and hit Dunkeld, which was a much more active place with a tourist office and restored buildings. Pete told us of the one place in town to eat lunch, at a hotel restaurant. Marge insisted the place was far overpriced and refused to go there, so we went to a more humble cafe and had a decent, but unexceptional lunch.

Next we headed to the Dunkeld cemetery, where Meg's aunt and grandmother were buried. It was a little hard to find, but Marge’s memory was spot on and we found it on a side road across from the local racetrack. Meg's two main relatives were the only ones with stones facing away from the mountains, apparently a mistake of the cemetery staff and a difficult and messy mistake to correct . While going through the place, the stone for the elusive “Unc”, who looked after many relatives while their mother (my great-grandmother) was in a sanitarium was found, as well as some other people with family surnames.

The rain and cold were more pronounced in Dunkeld, and earlier plans to go back to the expensive hotel for afternoon tea and scones were quickly replaced with the intent of getting back to Marge’s place, warming up, and drying off. That we did, after a trip to the bakery to get some scones for proper tea at home. Robert then came over with a book of information on former prime minister James Scullin, explaining how he was a nice but indecisive guy who wouldn't intervene when a state government sent the army in to strike break, suicide for a Labour PM.

Meg with her relatives.

We had another light dinner and went through more family history as well as watching some trashy television.

Tuesday - The Australian Gold-Rush

Today we headed to an historical theme town – Sovereign Hill!(Owen and I love these old historic towns and convinced marge to come with us as it would be fun,ed.). This is a town set during the Victorian gold-rush period, coplete with costumed interpreters and restored buildings. We headed in through the gift shop onto a dirt road lined with old style wooden buildings. There were schoolkids being ushered around by stern- looking school marms, all wearing period costumes. We stopped in at the apothecary with a few historic elements in glass jars. A small jeweller's shop had fairly modern pieces for sale, but more interestingly, the woman there spoke to us about corruption in the town and how rare it would have been for a woman to be staffing such a place. Then to the local bowling alley (completely made from old wood and looking more like a large shed) , where the balls and alley were so rough it was random whether you hit any pins or not. The advantage of the alley was that it was one of the few places that had a stove, so we talked to the guys staffing the place, politely declining the chance to bowl as it would take us away from the precious heat. The undertaker's had horse-drawn hearses from various different times and a coffin being formed amongst an elaborate collection of clamps. The tinsmith had a variety of tin materials for sale, but more interestingly had a continually running gear axle along the ceiling that any machine could be attached to for operations. It was all run from a steam generator outside of the shop. Next was the department store, which had a variety of things on display, mainly women's fashions. We spoke to the guy in charge of it about stocking show-off clothes for the newly rich and the status of various styles (essentially, the more impractical, the more stylish). What differentiated this place from similar historic villages I have visited is that almost every shop had the majority of its wares for sale, leaving only a little space for historic displays.

Lunch was had at the village tavern and then we went to the local theatre for a performance. We had missed the morning's meeting of the Anti- Chinese league and wanted to catch the afternoon's performance by a noted exotic dancer. After waiting for about 10 minutes, a guy sweeping the stage informed the 20 or so of us that the performance was to be outside the theatre on the street. When we got there the owner of the theatre introduced the woman and she began to complain about the newspaper libelling her as lewd. Then the newspaper owner came out and argued with her and the whole thing ended with a brief scuffle in the street and the newspaperman walking off (so no exotic dancing for us.-I guess there never is,quite clever actually). Next it was up the street for the local militia demonstration and firing of blanks. Many of the soldiers were characters we had met before and had modern-style earplugs in to protect their hearing. We also checked out the local school, with real schoolkids being called upon by the headmaster to answer questions and keep up their back-stories (whose child they were and what their father did for a living). Quite entertaining.

Lotsa gold, made before our eyes.

We opted out of the various mine tours offered and waited for the gold pouring demonstration. The man doing it was a real pro and dealt well with some mouthy school kids who were attending the show. He had actual liquified gold and explained the process now and then of purifying and pouring it out. Once placed in water, it was almost instantly cool to the touch and some kids got to hold the ingot, apparently worth about $150,000.

We then walked by the panning area which was large, wet and full of hopeful tourists. Then we hit the shabbier area, which was the Chinese area and saw and heard some well researched presentations on how they were treated back then and how their living conditions differed from other miners.

Back at the now-crowded gift shop we grabbed some candies and doodads and then headed across the parking lot to the Gold Museum (whose entry was included with our Sovereign Hill ticket). It contained some simulations of the largest nuggets found, along with large photos about how the gold-rush looked in boom and bust phases. A room with the history of gold around the world rounded out the exhibits.

On the way back we got hopelessly lost and the GPS bailed us out and got us back on the right track. The city of Ballarat apparently has a park with statues of all of their PMs, but we skipped that as well as James Scullin's hometown, which was along our way.

Ever hopeful Meg comes away empty.

Once we got back to Ararat we took Marge out to the cosy little Blue Duck, a local restaurant that was surprisingly busy for a Tuesday night. They served huge portions of the usual grub, which took quite a long time to arrive. Meg found out later that her grandfather used to hang out there when it was a much rougher place, and play darts with the guys.

Weds. - Baa baa black sheep... (Ros n' Gary's Farm)

Meg Bo Peep and her unhappy victim.

We had breakfast and then Robert came over to guide us to his sister Ros's place. It was about half an hour's drive outside of Ararat through rural country. We were greeted there by three dogs as well as Ros and Gary. The dogs were sent to their place on the porch where they each had their own torn up lazy-boy to perch on (like little Archie Bunkers). We were given the grand tour, with Meg able to cuddle a lamb in spite of its loud protest and its mom's nervousness nearby. Their house had been renovated and was quite modern inside but still had an old wood-fired stove in a corner. We got to see their sheep shearing equipment as well as a lamb cradle, not nearly as nice a device as it sounds. It's a four-armed rotating beastie that the lambs lie on with their legs in the air while they get their immunizations,their bums shaven, and their tails shortened. We then got to see the dogs move a herd of sheep from one field to another, which they did with amazing speed and efficiency.

After our poke around we set off separately for Hall's Gap for lunch. This town is the gateway to the Grampians and a pleasant, outdoorsy feeling place. Meg got some of her postal business done and we had lunch on the outdoor patio of the restaurant as it was an unusually sunny and warm day.

Out from the Grampians.

After lunch we said goodbye to Ros and Gary and headed off with Robert for a mountain hike. Because of recent flooding, almost all of the recommended trails close to town were closed, some possibly permanently because of washed-out bridges. We were heading up Mount William, which was a harrowing 10km drive up a very narrow road where we had to frequently swerve to avoid people barrelling along the other way. At the end of the road there was a place to park followed by a blocked-off road that you continued up on foot. This was a very steep road that would have caused most cars difficulty and after about 45 minutes it led to an old military communications tower that afforded great views of the surrounding landscape. What makes the Grampians striking is that they don't develop from foothills but just shoot up from flat farmland, so the view from their edge is a good one. We looked around for a little while and then walked down again. On the way we congratulated a couple we saw biking up the steep approach road.

We got back safely to the car and to Ararat, with only a short time to get organized before heading to Joan (Marge's sister) and Rex's place for dinner. They lived in a neighbourhood which was essentially a retirement home where people lived independently in quite nice homes as long as they were able. Care was close by and a nursing home was part of the complex. We had a fine chat and dinner and Meg was able to fill in a few more blanks on her family tree through the conversation.

Thurs. - Back on the Great Ocean Road

Less sick and it shows.

Back at Marge's we had breakfast and said goodbye after a fine visit. We were heading back to Melbourne and drove back to the Great Ocean Road, as it was on the way and we wanted to see it in another light, as it was so spectacular. We drove straight to Port Philip, a small seaside town and found our hostel after a bit of, searching and the usual GPS inaccuracies. We found lunch at a little cafe on the main (really the only) strip and then went off to see sights.

We headed a bit west to check out the shipwreck coast, which had a nice enough view, a nearby beach and lots of posted information of various wrecks which had occurred. We then headed east, towards the Twelve Apostles and the most popular section of the road. London Bridge was next, this is currently an island off the coast. It used to be linked to the land but the arch collapsed, stranding a few tourists who had to be rescued by helicopter. There were several viewpoints overlooking the coast and beach below us. The sand was covered in the tiny footprints of the many penguins who nest on the beach. They wouldn’t be back until sundown, so we moved on.

Next was the Arch, which had yet to collapse and was impressive as there was no beach here and you could really watch the waves smacking the coastline and be impressed that there wasn't even more erosion going on. The Grotto was next, which had the water sloshing into a channel and making noises, not as spectacular as Thunder Cave might suggest but still impressive. At all of these sights we encountered a few people, some over and over again as they visited in the same order as us. None were overcrowded and we had a nice, sunny day to check everything out.

Meg, will you just take the damn photo?!?

Our last stop were the steps beyond the Twelve Apostles which allowed you to actually go down to one of the beaches. This was a beautiful and unusual place and the beach was large enough for you to be with others or go off on your own. Walking by the water was strange because the sand by the coast sat at a sharp angle, forcing you to bend your ankles in an awkward way. We strolled around here for awhile, as with the beach and the rock islands and sheer cliff-face, it as pretty impressive.

We headed back to our brand new hostel to relax (another good recommendation from the Lonely Planet). Almost no one else was there, leaving the huge common room empty. Our own room was a good size but sterile and undecorated. The common bathroom area was on timed lights, so you'd be left in the dark if your shower or visit to the loo was longer than 10 minutes.

We had heard that most people staying there that night were with a group, so we dreaded the thought of the noisy rabble this might turn out to be. They arrived as we were cooking dinner and turned out to be a surprisingly fine bunch. They were all ages and nationalities and assisted that leader in preparing and serving dinner. They ate in an organized way and then helped clean up while rushing off to catch the sunset on the coast. That left us to finish our meal and watch as the other backpackers there swarmed over the group's leftover food, which was left on the “free food” shelf in the fridge.

After that we hung out a bit in the common room while a trashy movie was playing and then went to bed.

Australia WEEK 8 MELBOURNE TO ARARAT

Hello once more!  We're in Nepal but are cutting things short due to strikes and protests around their constitutional problems that have closed everything down, including the school we were volunteering at.  Next up is China (again!), out Africa trip to Kenya and Tanzania then a quick trip to Istanbul and back to Toronto.  We hope to see many of you then!

Oct. 26 Weds. -ST. KILDAS, NED KELLY, AND KITE SURFERS

Pete got back early from work so we headed off to St. Kilda's as part of a basic tour of the city. In heading over there, we were close to the house Meg stayed in with her aunt and uncle when she was just a little speck of a thing. We found it without too much trouble and were looking around it when Meg rang the bell and spoke to the current owner. She was surprisingly willing to let three strangers tour her house, which had been heavily expanded and renovated. She was delighted to learn that her house had been owned by the niece of an Australian prime minister and was quite pleased to show us everything. Meg had a good shot of memory recall and then we headed for the shore.

St. Kilda's is right on the water so we went for a stroll by one of the beaches and watched the kite-surfers, who zipped right off the sand into the water. Their favourite trick was to tilt the kites up and lift right off of the water, landing back on the water smoothly of in a heap, depending on their level of practice. Lots of fun to watch.

We headed in the other direction and Pete pointed out a hillside covered in pigface, which looks better than it sounds. We walked along a breakwater that was constructed after the war from old prisons, apparently with some of the prisoners' names on the stones, but often turned inwards so as not to glorify them. Rumour had it that Ned Kelly's name was there somewhere, but it was of course impossible to prove.

We drove back to their place. We cooked up an excellent batch of curried chicken with avocado sauce that Pete (the chef) had a generous portion of, so we were pleased. These were excellent people to hangout and drink wine with, so we did. Lots! And it got late. So we had a bit more wine, including some of their really good stuff. Nice. At that point, sleep came easily.

Thurs. - We slept in and tehn got our stuff together and headed out to Wilson's Promontary Park, which was a few hours outside of Melbourne and close to her cousin, who we were planning on visiting. It was a fairly long drive for the day and we made a few stops at scenic points, which showed us views of the surrounding landscape. We made a few wrong turns as the GPS kept bugging out on us but eventually found our place, with just enough time to drop off our stuff and head down to the park. It was a long drive from the town to the park, about 45 minutes down a narrow and often dangerously pitted road.

We didn't have time for the hike to the topof the mountain, so we went on the Squeaky Beach trail. There were a few young campers hanging around at the entrance to the place. The beach truly was squeaky, so we had a good time hiking across it using exaggerated steps in order to maximize its squeakiness. The views out to rocky crags in the water weer impressive and became more so as we got to the end of the beach and took a well-blazed trail that led us up a small hill and out to a nearby point. Along the way we encountered a life preserver way up a hill, which seemed strange. It made more sense after we passed aabench dedicated to two teens who drowned swimming in the rocky and well-tossed water that we were looking down upon.

The point provided the best views to the rocky islands lying off the coast as well as the beach and campsite on the other side from squeaky beach. One could see that this coast would have caused problems for the first explorers to reach it as the path to the point was in a tunnel hacked out from the thick, low bushes that dominated the countryside which would have been impenetrable without a machete.

Walking down a tree path at Wilson's Prom.

We retraced our footsteps and the only change was that the camping kids had begun to playcricket on the beach. Meg took a short nap on a bench while I walked a little further around a cliff that had a sheer drop down to the water, with only thick bush to stop your fall. I doubled back and Meg insisted that she drive so that I could see the scenery. The scenery was nice, with coastal sand views on one sideand green valleys and hills on the other but Meg also requested that I helkp her keep her eyes on the road after two wallobys were sitiing close to the road, weighing their options for running in front of our car or not. Fortunately, they stayed where they were.

Back in the small town the light was fading but their local IGA was open, so we got some dinner ingredients and headed back to the hostel. The place was one of the nicest we had stayed in, it was a three-bedroom single-floor house made into a hostel. It could only accommodate about a dozen people and really felt like you weer staying at someone's place. The German staying ther were very mellow and a very cheery Aussie came in later and offerd wine to anyone who seemed to be without a glass. We cooked and ate our dinner contentedly.

Later on Meg needed to contact her cousin and wondered if her phoneplan had run out until it was pointed out that the hostel had a sign stating that Vodaphone didn't work there (or in most other isolated or urban places, we found). Our Aussie friend helped her to text her cousin about the wher and when of meeting her and much loud, drunken hilarity ensueed. I read my book ,but felt for the poor German guys in the dorm who had retired and hour before and were probably too polite to tell people to keep it down. Eventually Meg came to bed and the house was able to sleep.

Friday – We were in no particular rush and so slept in. We had a fine breakfast in our nice hostel while the German guys grimly smoked out back in the rain. We got packed and said goodbye to everyone and drove into the wet day which soon disippated. We managed to find the right town in spite of some bizarre directions from our GPS and parked and were walking when Meg's cousin spotted us. We had an excellent lunch together and caught up. She had worked as a still photographer on films likeThe Road Warrior and Babe (might sound like a strange combination, but the same director was involved in both productions) she was now managing a local organic food shop and was quite prooud of the community and their modelling of local food.

A visit with the cousin.

We strolled around and had a good visit. Meg bought some purple heirloom carrots and we said goodbye and headed back to Melbourne. The drive back was much quicker than we anticapated and we got to Terri's place (John Scullin's ex-wife) two hours early. She didn't mind and we waited for her son Stuart to finish work so that we could go out to eat. We put a good dent into one of our bottles of wine and found that she was an animated speaker and knew all sorts of stories that enriched Meg's history, such as the time her mom dressed to the nines before reporting to work in a wartime rubber factory. We also got the tip that Ted Scullin really knew a lot of the family's political history, so another link in the web was made.

Purple heirloom carrots are what you need.

Stuart showed up, tried from working while rehearsing for a local production of Camelot that he had a part in. We headed out to an Indian place with attentive service and top notch food. Meg and Stuart entertained themselves by watching a ciuple who they were sure were breaking up at table close to ours. The waiter asked us if we were tourists, which we found to be a urprising observation until we remembered the everpresent camera draped around my neck. The meal went well and we bid adieu to Terri and Staurt and headed back to Pete's place.

Pete had to get up super early the next day but Brian was up so we talked to him for awhile before turning in far later than we should have.

Saturday – We got up reasonably early (but not as early as we should have) and said goodbye to Pete and Brian, not our final one as our paths would cross a few more times. We were heading off to the Great Ocean Road, one of the big must-dos on any Australian traveler's list. It follows a section of the south coast of Victoria which is particularly well-formed, if you believe the hype.

The drive there was reasonably uneventful, as whenever the GPS tried to lead us astray several times but the highway leading to the great ocean road was well signed, so we got to the starting place,Torquay, withlittle fuss. We hit the visitor'scentre and avolunteer there helped us out by giving us tons of literature and afr too much information. She sold Torquay quite a bit, even though most of its sights were far from awe-inspiring. We saw a very nice Aboriginal mosaic sundial in town, that probably would have worked wonderfully if there was any sun (most of the day it was overcast and rained a few times). Our next stop was to see this famous beach that apparently wows all of the surfers and they have world chamionships there. After 10 minutes down an unmarked path we gave up, not being surfers and having seen plenty of beaches over the past few week.

We drove further along the coast and noticed that the traffic picked up, mainly of tourists not used to driving narrow winding roads. This would become an issue several times before the day was done. We continied on until we got to a little village with a lighthouse. The tours of the lighthouse were way overpriced, but a short walk to the water gave excellent views of coastal rock formations with crashing waves. We had some good stuff for lunch, so we ate on a bench with the coastal vista at our disposal. Excellent.

Typical Australian scenery.

One thing we noticed was the touristic disregard for the house rules of attractions. Several people hopped the raiilings so that they could get better photos. The old “I apid my money so I can do whatever the hell I want to” attitude, which we encountered several times. We never had the pleasure of seeing these people busted by a ranger, which is a shame.

On the way back form the lighthouse, Meg wanted a coffee so we went to a little shop along the way back to the parking lot to get one. At least 45 minutes later we left, the painfully slow service having put us far behind schedule. The whole road is only about 300 km but because of how winding it is, the makers of tourist literature recommend at least 6 hours to drive the thing. They're right.

Our next trip was a side road to a waterfall that found Meg vbehind the wheel. Just before we heeaded up to it a carload of your Japanese kiddies who didn't know how a turn signal operated almost hit us, but Meg's reflexes saved the day. It was a particularly nrrow and twisty bit of highway inclusing a final descent that made her glad that her shift was over. The waterfall itself was nice, with a middleand bottom viewing platform, but probably not worth the detour time it took.

On the way back there was a lookout which Meg was feeling too ill to visit. I went upand it didn't show much except for how the highway was about to hit a particularly steep nand twisty part. And it was. The driving got very slow and curvy with distractions such as tourists who couldn't keep their land and local trying to blast by quickly. There were a lot of pulloff spots here so we could let the speedsters by and have a gander at how the view was going. Most of the time it was nice, rugged coastline, not dissimilar to the Cabot Trail.

Meg needed a break, so we got off at Apollo Bay and had a look around. It had a nice long sandy beach around a tourist-geared town, but nothing jaw-dropping. It would have probably looked nicer on a sunnier day.

Meg's carsickness drugged had kicked in so she slept through a lot of the next phase of the road. At this point it cut inland, still twisty and narrow bbut with no sea views. We passed by the rainforest skywalk where you're supposed to easily see koalas in the trees due both to lack of time and lack of consciousness in Meg. The inland road went on for well over an hour before finally emerging by the famed twelve apostles. We dodged a tourist drivingon the wrong sideof the road before we pulled into the very busy tourist centre. It was under renovations and contained little morethan a washroom and snack bar, but had a well laid out path that took everyone to the shore to see the sights. These are offshore rock formations similarto flowerpot islands. Apparently many of the original 12 have eroded into the sea, but they were still impressive. The real crowd was at sunset, so we beat them and had a good gander. This spot was worth the hype.

Two heathens with the twelve apostles.

After the 12 apostles are a number of other named sights. We stopped at the grotto, which was an impressive area of craggy rock where water sloshed in through a hole in the shore. After that, we had to head on to our hostel if we were going to get there before sundown.

The road became decent again and we caught an ABC show about recent films featuring Australia, including The Hunter, which we would eventually see. We pulled into Warrambool as the sune was setting and found our place, which had a bar built in, not usually a good sign. The sleeping rooms were in a separate building from the bar and dorms, so things looked a little better. We cooked up dinner and ate to The Ant Bully, a strange choice of movie but surprisingly entertaining when you have no expectations. We had to wonder if the others in the hostel were a little off or not, as they seemed to be a group with some sort of mental disability,but in the nicest way. A hard topic to bring up in conversation, so we'll never know for sure.

The bottom line was that the place was pretty quiet for a Saturday night and our room was nice and big, so we slept well.

Nice scenery, shame about the drivers.

Blue Mountains to Footscray - Oct. 15 


Hello again!  We're currently in Kathmandu after going through Tibet and visiting Everest Base Camp.  Our plans for volunteering here fell through only a week before we got here (grrrr....) but we're here safe and sound.  We'll try to use local sources to find .volunteer work and get some trekking and rafting in as well.  We're on a waiting list for our planned African trip, so our final 2 months have yet to come together.  Maybe we'll even get more of this published....

Saturday. –  Oct. 15  Hiking the Upper Rim -Blue Mountains, Day 2

We had breakfast with another group of German travellers and the big debate was whether the weather would waver. We checked out the rock formation close to town, the visibility extended to the “Three Sisters”, but beyond them all was lost in pea soup fog. We decided to chance it on an easy trail at Leura Falls that we could abandon quickly if there was nothing to see. We hiked down a well-blazed trail for about 10 minutes to get to the falls, which were just visible through the mist but quite audible. The view was pleasant, with two areas where the stream fell and then it descended into the valley below, which was still shrouded in mist. We hiked along the upper rim of the valley and the mist started lifting as we continued. Soon we could see across the valley to the cliffs beyond and it finally all made sense. The view was really something and it was interesting to gradually see what we were hiking through. The trail went through some rocky overhangs. It was again well laid out and we were appreciative of the solid guard rails keeping us from falling a fair distance to the bottom.

Waiting for the mist to lift over the valley.

We then got on the highway to Canberra and Meg napped. We had forgotten to program Sean (the GPS) to avoid toll roads, so we got sucked onto one for a short period of time. It said that you could pay your toll online (not! ha, ha) and I took note of the website. Of course, the website took about 10 minutes extracting information before advising you that it had a permanent server error. After trying three times, I figured that this was a permanent thing and my 48 hours were over. The rental company had a nasty surcharge for incurred tolls and fines, but the e-mails I sent just got me generic replies. Lesson: never take a toll road in a strange country and never allow your politicians to privatize roads, as these companies have no customer service.

Craving Culture in Canberra

We made it to the very new YHA Hostel in downtown Canberra (population 339,500). I had to park a few blocks away but the place looked worth it. Meg was still tired so I took a stroll through the neighbourhood. Most places were closed but I was able to check out the Canberra Museum. It had a famous series of Ned Kelly (the romanticised robber who wore a bucket on his head) pictures which were simple enough to had been illustrations in a children's book. There were a few modern pieces, including some nice patterns on the floor made by placing coloured pens in rows. They also had someone's motorcycle collection, and the early ones looked solid but scary to ride. The rest of the downtown was set up as an octagon but nothing much was going on except a half-hearted protester shouting to a small crowd.

We had dinner downstairs in the large, modern kitchen with a surprisingly small kitchen space for a building meant for two hundred people. They had plenty of most things but had only about 4 glasses. Dinner was easily prepared and we augmented it with a selection of the gourmet extras we got from the Hunter Valley. We worked on some planning in the evening and Meg reported when she went outside that the locals were swarming and the kitchen and patio were full of clusters of beer-drinking drongos. We watched RockWiz on the TV in our room (a great music trivia show with a very flippant and quick-thinking host) and then tried to sleep. This was difficult, as in spite of Canberra's reputation of being boring we heard the local yobbos driving by and yelling incoherently over loud Bon Jovi music. Our hostel-mates responded by gathering out front, under our window, to sing loud, tuneless songs and drunkenly challenge each other to fights. They did not endear themselves to us and a good sleep was not had that evening.

Sunday. – Rooting for Rotoruan Rugby

We grumpily got up and had some breakfast. We then headed out to the Australia Museum, a short drive away on the fake lake Canberra was built around. It was a wildly modern building with irregular shapes, colourful poles and a huge courtyard full of bent maps in the centre for kids to run around in. Admission was free (Australians and New Zealanders are very progressive that way) except for a Chinese exhibit which we didn't need to (or were too cheap) see. We first headed to the Aboriginal Exhibit, Canberra being the home of the Ngunnawal Aboriginals, which was quite large and varied. There were lots of videos and music examples as well as a room full of people telling their stories (on video). One exhibit focussed on the Aboriginal struggle for gaining rights with displays on several of the slaughters that were carried out against them. Other areas covered the challenges of settling different parts of the country, the convict history and lastly the history of animal species being wiped out by hunting, or by invasive species (like rats and rabbits) taking over the whole country. On this last point, this was, our first exposure to the mystery of the Thylacine, better known as the “Tasmanian Tiger”, a stripy dog-like marsupial, which was exterminated by humans in the middle of the last century (not to be confused with the Tasmanian Devil, which is threatened but still exists). The museum had an example of bad taxidermy with a moth-eaten, one-eyed, mangy Tiger on display dating from the 1900s. (We become fascinated with the story of the “Tiger” even before we went to Tasmania).

After the museum and a pot of tea, Meg was spent, so we went back so she could nap. I was intending to visit the modern art museum but traffic was strangely congested for a Sunday afternoon. When the police closed off the unmoving ramp I was trying to merge onto, I gave up and went to look at a museum on our side of the fake lake. Someone said the film archives were open to the public including a screening room showing a sentimental history of Canberra and one large room set up with viewing booths. The booths were more interesting but mainly focused on great Australian moments in TV and film. The viewing was generous and you could have spent hours there if that was your thing.

I drove back and the traffic was still locked up so I parked the car and stayed locally. The Rugby World Cup semi-final was due to play that day so I scouted a likely pub to watch it. Sadly, I didn't find out until after I ordered my beer that they were only showing a rugby league rules game between the same two countries. (There are about 5 different rugby variations played here). Not wanting to waste a beer, I watched the first half of the game which combined rugby with a system of 5 downs but never stopping the continual play. It was entertaining enough but not what I was looking for, so I went back to the room to type until the real game started.

Meg and I had a quick dinner and went out to see the real game. The pub I was in that afternoon was now packed, but I had seen others close by. The largest one was closed on Sundays (yes, the whole day!) and the small one with good beer didn't have a television. Defeated, we went back to the hostel only to find that the staff were wrong, we didn't need a cable TV to watch it (hurray!). We tuned into the game our TV common room and were joined by two older gentleman and one of their wives. We were worried that our support for the Kiwis might ruffle a few feathers so we carefully inquired who they were supporting. It turned out that our couch-sharers were all from New Zealand, so we were cheering for the same side! The All-Blacks won easily, and really, they deserved to. In New Zealand, everyone was talking about the Rugby World Cup;. Whereas the Australians were talking about their local leagues and weren't that interested in the Cup (or they were feigning disinterest because they lost- but I'm half Australian so I can say that).

Monday – Family Secrets (the Cousin we don't talk about...)

We dashed to eat and pack the car before our parking would expire. Our last stop would be the new parliament building which we headed towards until poor signage detoured us onto a side road. We could see the “hill” clearly and figured we could walk there. We asked instructions from an Australian-Indian civil servant, who gave us a rather (what we later discovered to be common in South-East Asia) traditional response, not knowing the answer, but still wanting to be helpful – he directed us to cross an impassible 6 lane ring highway to get there. After several near death experiences, we managed to return to our car and somehow manouvered our way to the underground parking safely. We just missed the 9 am tour and so hung around and looked at the rooms and artwork. They have a copy of the Magna Carta (for some reason) as well as an Inuit sculpture donated at the time of the building's completion. We saw that Midnight Oil's lead singer, Peter Garrett, is now a cabinet minister for Labour and Meg got all sorts of information about James Scullin, the Labour Leader whom she was related to. (He was grandmother's cousin, and he was only PM for a couple of years. He was vilified over his harsh response to a strike. But another relative, great-uncle Jack was one of the founders of the Australian Communist Party and a giant in the labour movement). While Meg shopped (they had tea towels of all the Prime Ministers!) I went up top where they had lawns (environ-friendly architecture) and a nice view of this very geometric city.

When the 45 minute-tour started our group was fairly large but the woman leading it was a real pro and handled the group deftly. We learned that both the senate and parliament had viewing galleries behind Plexiglas so that school children could visit without disrupting anything. Since voting is mandatory, all school visits are subsidized based on how far they have to travel to Canberra (makes me proud to be half Australian). The seats in these halls were coloured on a gradient to create an illusion of space. Meg asked for James Scullin's portrait to be pointed out and the guide helped, but without a lot of enthusiasm. He was the last one in the new building, the older ones had been moved to the old parliament hall as space required (sadly by the time my niece and nephew get to Australia his portrait will be removed).

We left on that high note, but no fond farewell to Canberra, a pretty soulless place (like most capital cities, to be fair). We drove towards Wangaratta, chosen mainly for its being a halfway point on the way to Melbourne. An hour and a half out of the city we stopped for lunch and found that we had left our cooler (or Eski as they call them down here) in the freezer at Canberra, both of us assuming that the other had brought it. It was full of our pasta sauce and gourmet delights and was a huge loss, but not enough to retrace our steps for.

Meg with the portrait of her unspeakable relative in the unspeakable city of  Canberra.

Being without provisions, we pulled over for lunch at the next food place named after the dog on the tackle box song, a weird song whose lyrics held little charm for me (the dog apparently lays on the tackle box to stop other animals getting in- or maybe he widdles on it, something like that.)

Chatting with TAZ in Charmless Chiltern/Wacky Wangaratta

Just before we got to Wangaratta we stopped off in Chiltern. Our guide book mentioned it as being an authentic mining town that was used as a setting for several films. We pulled in and saw a sleepy, dusty place where most businesses had closed by 4pm. We walked around the main strip and saw “closed” and “for sale” signs as well as a few shops that were open but customer-free. We tried to order a coffee, but the cafe was closing so sent us to the saloon. It was open but also devoid of customers. While they put a pot on to brew, we talked to the lone man in the place, an old codger named Taz (so-named as he was from Tasmania) and he could recall some obscure film a long time ago that was shot in town and lamented its current stagnant state. He made a point of telling us that his ancestors came to Tasmania as the widow of a soldier, differentiating himself from the country's criminal heritage. He had done a lot of travelling around Australia, and was really interesting to talk to, but we had to get going. When we paid for the coffees a local was talking to the woman behind the counter and Meg gave suggestions they could use to rejuvenate the town (historical tours). She listened politely and we got on our way.

Wangaratta was big and thriving after Chiltern but we had to circle a block a few times as our GPS was unable to navigate us right to our motel. The Miller's Cottage was a budget place that at first reminded us an old 1950s style motel. The manager who eventually opened the squeaky screen door was friendly, and talked to us at length of what to do in town and in the south of Victoria state. .

We headed to dinner to find that the the two places the manager recommended weren't open so we took a gamble on Cafe Martini, a large restaurant with several customers and a good-looking menu. They served local wines we hadn't heard of, but a random choice of Brown Brothers was really tasty paired with a antipasto plate. I made the mistake of ordering risotto, which turned out to be rice stew. When we asked if the rice was meant to be mushy, our server said of course (okay, we are food snobs, but who wants to pay risotto prices for microwaved mush?). As we left, we saw the kitchen staff were all under 18, which would have impacted our food choices had we known.

Wangaratta was pretty much asleep now, (9:30pm) so we headed back to our room and before long joined them.

Tuesday – Ned Kelly- Doggie Biscuits- and Golliwogs

We made a quick breakfast in our room and then moved on. The closest tourist town was Beechworth, which was supposed to have a Ned Kelly tour (a perfect way of rejuvenating the town and attracting tourists) to satisfy our curiosity as to why the old bandit has captured the imagination of Australia. By the time we got there the early tour had left and the next Ned Kelly tour wasn't for several hours, which we didn't have. We looked at the old historic buildings ourselves, which didn't take long. Amazingly, their telegraph office was still active! It was apparently the busiest in the world and would send telegrams wherever you wanted. They also had the old Chinese office, to deal with the immigrants who were simultaneously needed and resented during the gold rush.

Offensive or cute?  You decide.

We walked through the rest of the town, which was the opposite to Chiltern. The old buildings were well-preserved but were thriving, with tour buses parked everywhere and lots of people wandering the streets. We hit the Salvo (Australian for Salvation Army Store) and got some books and things we didn't really need. We then strolled around town and found a large window display stuffed with Golliwogs in various outfits (what other racist goodies are they selling children? Licorice “Little Black Sambos”?) At another store Meg picked up some treats for the dog we would be staying with in Melbourne. They had tons of toys and food marked “not human grade”. The dog treats at the counter looked like gourmet chocolates and the owner told of high school students who were buying them to feed to friends as a joke, apparently the friends found them tasty. Meg chose a weird-looking toy that Jack Russels were supposed to love.

Time was a wasting, so we drove down some pretty country roads towards the so-called gourmet region. On the way there we stopped in at an olive grove, and got an interesting “Olives 101” lecture from a guy dressed like he had been working on trees all morning. We heard about the regulations around extra-virgin old and heard that uniformly coloured olives are bleached or chemically coloured in some way which causes them to become soft. We tasted some nice olives and dips and bought jars of yummy spiced olives to replenish our food supply.

We then hit the main town in the area and stopped for lunch at the Milawa Cheese shop which seemed to be at the centre of the action. We had a rather leisurely lunch and tasted some excellent cheese, going back to buy some for later. The place was a mecca for tour buses, one whose minimum age had to be 85 as it took most of our meal for the bus occupants to make their way up to the balcony (when we are 85 let's hope we get to go on wine tours too!).

Next we stopped at Brown Brothers winery, that of the tasty wine but crappy risotto, meal. They had an elegant tasting area with a rolling wooden wall between parts of the bar to accommodate a private group. As in Hunter Valley, they poured generously, and I had to turn down many offered wines if I were going to drive. We bought two delicious bottles and had a nice chat with a couple who came from Christchurch (mainly about the earthquake and NZ cheese).

Family, Fun, and Food in Footscray

It was time to head out so we drove towards Melbourne. There is something about the city that messes up Sean (and probably most GPS systems), so we took longer getting there as the satellite kept cutting out just as we had to decide on exits. Eventually, we made it to Peter and Brian's home in Footscray (10 minutes from the downtown but 45 minutes the way Sean directs us). Despite arriving later than we had anticipated, we were made welcome, had a great chat and Lucy immediately attacked her toy and had disabled the squeaking function within minutes. We were tired and felt immediately welcome as we unwound and got to meet Peter (Meg's second cousin). We then went out to one of their favourite haunts, a proper Italian restaurant which was small and with everything cooked by Mama. The food and atmosphere were wonderful and Meg was doing her usual bill-wrestling with Peter but both were thwarted by Brian who informed us that he had paid for it all on his last trip to the washroom.

Week 6 (not quite a full week,but ready to post!)

`` Hunter Valley Zoo to Blue Mountains

Thurs. Oct. 13 – singing “Pat-the-Wombat to the tune of “Rock-the-Casaba”

Finally patting the wombat.

We had breakfast, packed, and Skyped (telephoned via internet)a few people before we had to go. We couldn't leave the Hunter Valley without visiting the zoo we passed on our way to our runs, hoping it wouldn't be too grim. (after seeing a poster about the zoo where we could feed the kangas and pat wombats, I was eager to go! I was so excited I kept singing the above song (which wasn't more than “we're gonna pat-the-wombat” in the car until Owen threatened to cancel the zoo trip unless I stopped, ed.) An auspicious sign that this would be a good visit was the peacock proudly strutting its' stuff and flaring its' tail in the parking lot. We went in and Meg bought 4 ice cream cones full of kangaroo and bird food for the animals. We had a quick look around, were whistled at and told “hello, darling” by some cheeky cockatoos very interested in our food, and then headed over for scheduled wombat-petting. These are large burrowing animals which were given a nice plate of vegetables to eat, whole cobs of corn and heads of cauliflower. The male was shy but the female came out and ate and let the keeper pick her up and carry her around so that everyone could stroke her back. They have heavy bone-plates on their backside, apparently strong enough to crush a dingo's head against the top of a burrow hole.(The crowd around the wombats were us, some parents with their children, and some adults from a community living centre with their caregivers, we all waited our turn for what proved to be a rather anti-climactic experience, for me at least).

Meg, re-enacting her favourite scene from 'The Birds".

Next we went to Meg's favourite, the cage where you lock yourselves in with the birds and fed them. They soon were swarming over her and she spent a long time trying to train them how to eat properly. They were more interested in the ice cream-cones than the seed, and enjoyed crunching the bits up. I found them a bit much and dropped the cone when their munching got a little too close to my fingers. They landed on your arms, in your hair, wherever they could perch close to the beloved cone.

Getting close to an Australian icon, Russel Crowe!

We then got to pet a koala, (but only on the back and only while its mouth was full of eucalyptus leaves). Meg said its' fur felt curly and was surprised. We then fed some kangaroos, who again preferred the cone in spite of Meg's nutritional lectures. (We wondered whether all that sugar didn't make the animals hyperactive! ed) There were the usual suspects at the zoo as well- lizards, snakes, emus, dingos, sheep and goats (bo-o-ring). The Tasmanian Devil kept running around its small pen on the same route and seemed to be demented (or just in too small a space). Other than that they seemed pretty content and well cared for.

The wayward ways of pickpocket wallobies.

I managed to drag Meg away and we headed to Wyndham Estates for our final tasting. On our way there we passed a distressed turtle on the road. Meg ran out and picked it up to get it off the road and it promptly peed with fright. Some ladies inn a car passed and ave us advice as to what to do with it, and Meg got it to the other side. Not before a nasty driver honked at us for blocking the road, but the ladies gave him the finger. The ladies and meg congratulated themselves on having saved the turtle until we realised we didn't know which side of the road he had been heading for. No one was there but eventually a woman from the next room came and filled our glasses. She knew about the turtle situation and said they have a lot of turtle accidents in the vicinity. She was a French immigrant and her accent, mixed with Australian, was hard to decipher. She was overly generous and we really had to limit her pouring if we were going to do any driving at all. The wines that were local were excellent and it was the one place where the $60 aged Shiraz really was twice as good as the $30 one. We picked up some sparkling Shiraz and red port and then sat to have lunch and sober Meg up a bit (I can't drink wine before lunch like that). The grounds were being set up for an upcoming concert by Dame Kiri Te Kanawa and there was much busy-ness happening.

Meg saves the world, one turtle at a time.

The drive to the Blue Mountains was long and pretty but was the twistiest road we had dealt with since New Zealand. Meg was only able to drive at low speed, pulling over to let the locals pass by. At least the weather was decent, and we pulled into Katoomba well before dark. We stayed at a hostel called No. 14, which was one of the nicest (our whole trip through the antipodes). It was an old house and felt like you were visiting a friend. The common room was cosy with a fire and everyone hung out there in the small place. Our room was located on the second floor, right under the roof gables and a very interesting shape, lots of triangles and lots of space (of course it wasn't en-suite, so we had to trip downstairs in the middle of the night, but we couldn't afford that luxury on our budget). The woman who ran it (Mandy) spent lots of time going over possible hikes with us and kindly gave us our choice of the rooms that were available.

We walked into town to shop and found that being in the hills meant the place got very cold very quickly, so we kept up a brisk pace to keep warm. We made dinner in the very crowded kitchen, dodging people as they went by and trying to keep the narrow walking spaces clear. The fridge and dry food areas were all numbered so that each room had equal space, but we had so much stuff we used the numbers of rooms that we knew were empty.

We ate in the common area and had interesting discussion with Aida, a Bosnian woman who was travelling for months and Kasia, who was a doctor from Adelaide (who had interned in Alice Springs and had good stories but was a total right-winger. Both were women travelling independently and were impressive, gutsy chicks, ed). We got lots of hiking and travel advice and then went to bed and slept well.

Fri. – Mastering the Mysterious, Misty Mountains...

Intrepid hiker in the misty canyon.

We got up and had breakfast with a friendly group of Germans. The weather was all fog and mist so we followed Mandy's advice and went to the Grand Canyon (as it would still be a good hike in mist). This one was slightly different from the Arizona one, but much more accessible from Katoomba (ha ha). The mist kept getting thicker as we drove to the trail-head and we were one of only a few cars in a lot meant to hold dozens. There was drizzle all around us, making the footing quite slippery. The steps were huge slabs of stone, occasionally carved out of rock-face but more often brought from elsewhere and set down. There was also a doorway which apparently was shut when they worked on the trail. We benefited greatly from their work (improving the trail) and soon descended to the bottom of the canyon. A stream met us there and would follow us for most of the trail. The hike was at the bottom of a gorge carved by this stream and had high sides and a very narrow hiking area. The trail took us along carved rock (with guard rails!) through a cave, under a waterfall but mainly through widened cave areas with a rock wall on one side and a crack in the ground with a stream at the bottom of it on the other. The rain came and went but never got too bad and the plant life was lush, amazing considering how many plants were just clinging precariously to wet rock. Towards the end of the hike we crossed the stream several times and had trouble finding the trail again. We only met one other hiker until our final ascent, so really felt on our own down there.

On our way up we met another couple wearing Tilley hats so we bonded and took each others' photos (yes, it may be lame but that's who we are). We then went by one of the crews working on the trail having their lunch. We talked to them about how they did it and found out that the huge bags of construction materials were dropped by helicopter for them. We finally came back to the starting point and took a side trail to check out a scenic lookout, which was like staring into a glass of milk due to the fog.

We rewarded ourselves by going to a pizza place that had a chef in the window but found that they weren't open for lunch. While walking back we bumped into three of the British guys with whom we had shared our Whitsunday Yacht trip. They were on a Blue Mountain tour bus waiting for pickup, quite a coincidence to bump into them again, what fun!(When you are on the road, people you spent two days with are like old friends if you meet them again).

Meg got a fantasy novel (Part 2 of a book that I read but didn't know had a sequel,yay!) from a used book store and we headed back for lunch at our hostel. Aida was sick and other people weren't feeling well, luckily we didn't pick anything up. She complained that she was going to Cairns, which is usually pretty sunny but had rain forecast for her trip there. She said bad weather had followed her throughout the country. It was true that the day after we met her was the first day on our Australia trip that we needed raincoats. Coincidence?

We also spoke to a Welsh guy (Brian)who had been travelling for a long time and had spent time in Cambodia helping to build a school. He was very laid back and seasoned and had spent most of his time in Australia tenting for free on public land. Some German hikers reported that you couldn't see anything on the trails in the town, so we hunkered down for an indoor afternoon of typing and napping (guess who did what).

Could we be deported for breaking this law? Please don't turn us in..

For dinner we went to the pizza place which was inexpensive and very generous with their toppings(anchovies and shrimp-yum). The crust was pretty average but overall the best pizza we'd had in Australia. They let us take our leftover pizza with us, which is against the law in Australia apparently because if people don't store the leftovers properly and contract botulism, they can sue the restaurant. We found that most places would bend the rules for us, thankfully.

We headed back and had a laid back evening comparing notes with the other people there and hanging out in the cosy common area. Hostels close to natural areas seemed to attract people of a different ilk than the cities, where many backpackers are of the “drink yourself blind and howl” type. Tea was had, work was done on the internet and we slept to the sound of pouring rain on the roof .    

Slippery stone steps stifle celebratory salute.