Thursday 16.02.06
There are a number of subtle differences between Danes and Australians. One is culinary; whilst the typical Dane indulges in such delights as ammonium chloride coated licorice and liverwurst, the average Aussie prefers to eat nauseatingly large cuts of meat and a thick, black, salty paste which no foreign bugger would touch. Whilst Carsten had long since learnt to stay away from Vegemite, he was until recently unaware of the existence of another cultural difference - punctuality. This became apparent when, after I had nominated 9:00 as an arbitrary time of departure, Carsten was actually up and ready to go at 8:20 (while I was still in bed).
Later in the afternoon, we arrived at Wagga Wagga - a town I had desired to visit solely for its humorous name. Fifteen minutes in this town proved to be enough for both of us, so we drove on to Nerrandera, a small town with friendly locals, where we camped for the night.
Friday 17.02.06
Emus spotted: 6
No. of times Carsten forgot to put the petrol cap back on, resulting in it falling off and narrowly missing being run over by a road train: 1
No. of blank looks from Carsten upon being spoken to by locals with thick Aussie accents: innumerable
After being woken by a flock of squawking galahs, we continued on our drive west.
We had only covered approximately 200 Km of scrub before the car rapidly began to lose speed as the engine overheated. We pulled over at the nearest truck stop and were immediately greeted by a hungry swarm of aggressive insects. As they began to overwhelm us, we prayed that the engine had cooled sufficiently and decided to get the hell out of there.
Stopped for lunch in a lovely picnic spot in Mildura where a man appeared to be bathing his horse by tying it to his boat and making it swim behind at he circled around the lake. It was quite a spectacle to behold.
By sunset we had arrived at our outback destination, Broken Hill. Our entertainment options there seemed to be limited to a) joining the local girls in standing outside the overcrowded pub and singing along with the cover band or
Saturday 18.02.06
After visiting the Pro Hart gallery, we drove up the slag heap to drop Carsten down a mine. Well, drop him off for a mine tour, to be more accurate. Went for a wander down the main street; being past midday on a Saturday, it was now almost completely deserted. Tumbleweed would not have looked out of place. Ducked in to Mario's Palace Hotel, where Pricilla Queen of the Desert was filmed, for a quick beer. I was their sole customer.
Met up with Liz, a friend from Sydney, before picking up Carsten and driving to the café on top of the slag heap. Afterwards we returned to the camping ground, which we had intended to leave in time to make it to the sculpture park before sunset. However, our generous neighbours' offer of food and wine delayed us somewhat. Consequently, by the time we were leaving the sculpture park, it was exceedingly dark. After having unwittingly strayed from the path, we thought we were going to have to spend the night under the stars with the kangaroos. Fortunately, however, we managed to find the car and went to town to celebrate - to Hungry Jack's, to hang out with the cool kids.
Drove along a remarkably bumpy road to Silverton. Once a prosperous mining town, it is now virtually deserted, kept alive only by the tourists who pass through to visit the art galleries and have a drink in the famous Silverton Hotel, where Mad Max II, various other movies and dozens of beer commercials were filmed. Though situated only 25 Km from Broken Hill, it has the feel of being in the middle of nowhere, with small corrugated iron buildings scattered amongst the dust and camels ambling along the main road. After having a Devonshire tea, followed shortly afterwards by a cold beer, we thought we should stock up on supplies in case of a breakdown, so purchased tins of Silverton Road Kill* before returning to Broken Hill, where we visited the Royal Flying Doctors Service. We then said goodbye to the mining town for good and headed south to Adelaide.
Monday 20.02.06
After visiting the Aboriginal cultural centre, we embarked on our long awaited wine tasting tour of the Barossa Valley. Fortunately for me, Carsten does not drink and was thus able to take on the role of designated driver.
In the evening, we met up with two Aussie friends from Denmark, Tim and Thea, and their son, Jacob. Whilst trying to find them, I demonstrated how truly awful my sense of direction is by asking passers by for directions to Red Square. This request was met with puzzled looks and it was not until later that it occurred to me that I was in fact meant to be going to Henley Square; Red Square, I realised, is where my friend, Emily, worked approximately four years ago - in Ireland.
Tuesday 21.02.06
Carsten went off to visit various museums while I spent the day on the beach turning my skin a healthy shade of red. By the end of the day, either the heat or holiday or a combination of the two seemed have affected Carsten's mental faculties severely, judging by his complete inability to recall the events of preceding days.
Wednesday 22.02.03
Spent the morning at the mechanic's, where no less than three men spent one and a half hours trying to open the jammed boot so that we could get to our clothing etc. Shortly after departing Adelaide for Narracoorte, the car stereo became temperamental and decided to stop working. As an alternative form of entertainment, I sang the Australian National Anthem and the Twelve Days of Christmas, whilst Carsten followed with renditions of old Danish folk songs, as well as a strange German song about a family of cocaine addicts.
We dined in a charming little restaurant in town before returning to the campsite.
Thursday 23.02.06
Set out along the Great Ocean Road, where we saw lots of pretty rocks with plaques to match.
Friday 24.02.06
Woke up at our waterfront campsite to a picturesque view of a small cottage surrounded by grazing sheep and a grand chestnut horse. Glanced away momentarily and upon looking back, the horse was proudly urinating and the bloated carcass of a cow was floating down the river. A change of the wind's direction confirmed that the cow had indeed expired some time ago. Carsten needed no convincing when I suggested that we got the hell out of there. On the way out of town, we saw that the mouth of the river was very close to the beach and decided to stop by the police station and suggest that a speedy recovery operation may be in order should they wish to save their holiday haven from becoming known as "Bovine Beach". After having been advised of the situation and discussing it with a colleague, the police officer returned to the front desk, gave me a look that suggested that I may have been some sort of sicko and said hesitantly, "You don't actually want to keep the cow - do you?"
That evening we arrived in Melbourne and found a campsite which was in a rough area and ludicrously overpriced, but to our relief, free of rivers.
Saturday 25.02.06
Went to Melbourne Zoo, where we spent a nice morning looking at fluffy animals before the city was hit by an enormous electrical storm, forcing us to huddle up next to the monkey enclosure for some time until the rain subsided.
Drove to the city for dinner, where I put on such a pitiful display with my reverse parking attempts that a man on the street actually came up and offered to park my car for me; an offer which I gratefully accepted.
Sunday 26.02.06
While Carsten went off gallivanting around town on another museum mission, I decided to check out Fitzroy, the "grungy" area of Melbourne. Adopting a 'when in Rome' attitude, I had lunch in a hip café before hauling myself off to an alternative clothing store, where I purchased an unusual pale fluorescent green vest-like garment with buttons that don't match up to the button holes.
Met up with Carsten and proceeded to funky St Kilda, where we lazed about next to the water watching the kite surfers before eating dinner.
Monday 27.02.06
Woke up early with the intent to make it to Canberra in the early afternoon. Spent the morning repeatedly driving up and down the same streets of Melbourne in search of a mechanic to give Doug the Bug a wheel alignment, then futilely searched for a shop that stocks (apparently unusual sized) Beetle tyres. By midday, we were finally leaving the city.
After stopping in Glenrowan for obligatory tourist photos of the giant Ned Kelly statue and a brief look at the museum, we refuelled in Wangaratta (I couldn't bear to pass by Nick Cave's hometown entirely) and then continued our drive along the dull Hume Highway.
Some hours later than planned, we arrived in Canberra, got lost and drove around in circles, as one is wont to do in this city.*
Eventually we made in to Lothlorian and Malcolm's apartment. Thankfully, Loth had made the sensible decision to start on the wine without us and therefore didn't seem at all concerned to have had to stay awake until our arrival.
* I was relieved to discover that I am not alone in finding Canberra's layout confusing. In his book "Down Under", Bill Bryson offers the following advice: "Don't leave your hotel without a good map, a compass, several days' provisions and a mobile phone with the number of a rescue service".
Tuesday 28.02.06
Although I had been determined to avoid all the standard tourist attractions of Canberra, for some inexplicit reason, I changed my mind at the last minute and, after driving to the top of Mt Ainslie to look out over the city, decided to accompany Carsten to Parliament House. Unfortunately parliament was not in session, so there was, in my opinion, nothing particularly interesting to see. I did, however, feel a certain sense of satisfaction knowing that Doug was parked just metres away from our honourable Prime Minister's workplace with a "Not Happy John" sticker on the back.
I left Carsten to continue sightseeing and did little more than driving in circles before picking him up again. We spent the evening playing Uno, drinking wine and generally being merry.
Wednesday 01.03.06
After breakfast, drove around in circles trying to find a mechanic. Both of these things seemed to be becoming almost a ritual. Fortunately, this time the car was fixed in under five minutes, and we were at last ready to return to Sydney.
