Blog Down Under - Melbourne and around

The last few days in Melbourne to squeeze in the maximum before we head back around the globe. Melbourne is a fantastic city which reminds me very much of Vancouver - a mixture of old-world British Empire outpost, modern vibrant city with a massive natural harbour, and a huge Asian influence with a good dose of other cultures mixed in. It has lots of old buildings and trams . . . and and it has bikes, loads and loads of bikes; in fact the city is fantastically bike friendlly with a young hipster bike culture, so I fitted right in . . . with the bike bit at least. But we werent finished with the sight seeing yet, so off'ed to the Dadenong Ranges Park to walk the Kokoda 1000 steps memorial trail, in memory of the fallen in a WW2 campaign . . .

The walk was up a hill, a mere bagatelle for such hardened ill-climbers such as us; we just pretended it was Pork Hill on a summer Sunday, but with Palm trees - and S adopting the usual position of lanterne rouge . . .

. . . with the added authentic touch of my Akubra hat with dayglo laces . . .

After all the outdoors exertion we dropped the cultural bar somewhat and went to the Crown Casino. This vast, neon-blinking temple to mammon is the largest casino in the southern hemisphere so, high-rollers that S and I are, we headed straight for the cheapest ($2.50 minimum bet) roulette where I proceeded to lose my standard $50 flutter in about 10 minutes. S fared no better, flushing her cash down the loo over a very slightly more extended timescale. With my plan to recoup the holiday outlay lying in tatters it was left to the offspring to uphold the family honour by raking in the lolly playing poker. The fact that they duly did, perhaps reflects not so well on that bit of parenting when we told them about the evils of cards and drink . . . particulalry since I probably won't see any of the profit; so remember folks, only mugs gamble and expect to win . . . . bollocks!

Next on the must-do list was a visit to a dumpling house in Chinatown. The last time I had the authentic thing was with Sam Wang in Vancouver Chinatown, where he proceeded to force-feed me every variation on the menu. This was not dissimilar; dumplings are definitely the best lunctime deal to be had, and come in a delicious variety, floating around in hot and sour soup in my case. The soup option does make them slightly tricky to eat with chopsticks, beause they acquire a slithery outer sheen, thus requiring a deft and subtle hand to elegantly steer them into the mouth . . .

Last day tomorrow, and then the looonnng flight back.

G'day

Blog Down Under - back to the city

And so, the road trip ended back in Melbourne on New Year's Eve, where we checked in to our 22nd floor apartment on the Southside with stunning views over the bay . . .

The plan was to offload all the clobber and set off to Geelong, sans offspring who were on the town with young people, to spend NYE with Neil annd Darlene, old friends from the 1980s. Some readers will know, from personal experience out on the bevy in the Dolphin with Neil, that a gruesome end awaits this sort of activity. I was banking on the fact that age must must have slowed him down consideraby in the intervening 29 years since we last spent NYE together - on that occasion in our student flat in Plymouth, where the air became like a 1950s London smog as the evening wore on because we smoked like Ivor the Engine at the time . . .

. . . note my excellent hairstyle and shoulder pads in S's dress.

This time the occasion called for a barbie in Neil's back yard because the temperature was in the 20s, plus numerous bottles of rather excellent red wine from his extensive cellar - so yes, I was feeling slightly jaded the next day, but perked up somewhat after the restorative of one of the Queenscliff, Rolling Pin Bakery Jumbo Chunky Beef Pie, judged Australia’s Best Pie 2013. Once my blood alcohol had metabolised to below the 50 mg/100 ml limit we bade farewell . . .

. . . and returned to Melbourne for a quiet night in watching the telly.

G'day

Blog Down Under - on the road again

Canberra

After all the beach-related stuff it was time to leave Jervis Bay and head back on the road to Melbourne - this time by the direct route down the Hume Highway. But first we stopped off at Canberra to be wowed by the Australian Capital city. Now it may be me, or we missed the really good bits, or it was the wrong day of the week, or we didn't spend enough time to do it justice . . . or is Canberra really just like a post-apocalyptic-flu-pandemic version of Milton Keynes . . .

Not one to be daunted I managed to squeeze a frisson of blog material out of it by booking us into the 'University House' accomodation on the Australian National University Campus. The offspring were instantly suspicious that I had only done this because I got some sort of academic deal; a charge which I strenuouly denied - though would have done if it had been an option on www.booking.com (other hotel reservation websites are available). The two-bedroom apartment was redolent of campus accomodation constructed in the 1950s, complete with teak-veneer furniture and faux-granite slab bathroom flooring with brass grouting strips that you get in all GB institutional buildings of a certain era. Hence the associated nostalgic whiff of many a conference past spent in student halls hung thick on the air . . .

. . . so that was Canberra.

Back on the road the next day and I promised familia Evans a host of sights to amaze them on the 500 km trip down the Hume Highway which runs between Sydney and Melbourne . . .

1. The Dog on the Tucker Box - who could fail to be awed by this tale of an ordinary drover who, after being afflicted by a broken wheel, exhaustedly turned to his nosh-box to find his dog sitting 'or somethig else' on top . . . a euphemistic reference on the family-friendly plaque methinks to the faithful hound taking a massive dump on the aforesaid box of tucker . . .

2. Holbrook Submarine Museum - hundreds of miles from the sea who would ave expected this, but to be a sub-mariner you have to be completely nuts . . .

3. Glenrowan, the site of Ned Kelly's last stand - OK, so I ddn't stop here because of the all-pervasive image in my head of that god-awful film with Mick Jagger wearing a bucket on his head . . .

G'day

Blog Down Under - X-Day

Chinaman''s Beach

Inevitably, we determined to have a beach X-day. While not quite managing a barbie we did take a kilo of tiger prawns and a cooler full of beer . . .

. . . except I could only have one, being the designated driver – it make a change from starting on the second bottle of champers by 10 am, but note to self: next time put S on the insurance even if it means gritting teeth and clutching seat of car. The more observant of you will also note that we had a ‘white Christmas’, but not quite like the one’s we used to know . . . Chinaman’s, and the adjacent Hyams (which S keeps malaprop-ing to ‘Hymens’) beaches are famed for their white sands; like ‘walking on warm snow’ the tourist guff said . . . well, like walking on warm sand I would say, but it is white as I’m sure you’ll agree.

Activity Overload

Right, that's got X out of the way, and I now henceforth resolve to leg it off somewhere sunny for every Xmas - sunny beaches are so much better than the mind fog of turkey 10 ways and The Great Escape. Reverting back to 'holiday mode', the son was insistent that he wanted to go fishing, so off we hove to Sussex Inlet where Cap'n Birdseye (for it was surely he) furnished us with a speedboat - nominally, in the sense that it had a hull and an outboard motor - two rods and a bag of pilchards, to which we added a cooler full of beer . . .

Now, regular readers will now that I am not a fishing aficianado, but the offspring professed to have some experience in this area so, optimistically, I deferred to their expertise in the expectation that a four hour boat hire would yield a trawler-full catch that would be the toast of Grimsby. Initial signs were good, with the daughter snagging a big one but failing to land it . . . thereater only catching lots of seaweed. As for S and the son . . . nada, nothing, zero, didn't get a sniff . . . so it was left to the old man to show 'em how it is done, by application of logic and scientific principles . . .

. . . henceforth I shall be known as 'FisherDad' (I did throw it back in readers) . . .

After a successful day angling (for me anyway) the offspring reprieved themselves on Huskisson beach but putting to good use skills learned during many a summer spent on the sands at Polzeath . . .

When passers-by started taking photos S suggsted that we put down a hat to collect any spare change - I came close, readers, I came close. Now we were really on a roll with actvities following helter skelter one after another - preceded by the $50 notes I hasten to add - and kayaking/padddleboarding was next on the 'must do' vacation list. Suprisingly, after last summer's experience (see previous blog), S and I elected for the double kayak while the offspring for paddleboards (presumably because that is more hip, and life jackets were not compulsory). But clearly, S had learned the lessons of the summer and responded in timely manner to my rhythmic drum-like beating on the plastic hull, and we left the offspring flailing in our wake . . .

Not to be outdone I also managed to squeeze in a bike ride . . .

Whew . . . next stop Canberra.

G'day