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Published: October 23rd 2007
On leaving Newcastle, we decided to keep momentum and bypass Sydney to head South through the country to Melbourne with the idea of eventually returning back North using the famous Pacific Highway route on the coast. On the way, we ventured West to check out the Blue Mountains National Park which prove to be both a welcome and scenic break in the long drive and where we managed to fit in a quick trail around the valley's ridges to stretch our legs. I was surprised to find that the valley was indeed blue. I suppose it's not called Blue Mountains for nothing... Sure the trees are green but I think it's some sort of light phenomenon that blankets the tree tops and the horizon a slightly bluey tint.
It was a long haul in the car that day and not too may towns to stop off at through the countryside so we eventually pulled off the road and into a rest area at about 2am having driven a good 800 kilometers. I remember Trung pulling into the sleepy car park and parking in between a couple of motors about 100 yards either side of us with the place looking lifeless. We awoke at about 8am the following morning to see cars parked all around us, kiddies pulling faces through the car windows and families out walking dogs and drinking coffee and eating butties from some roadside greasy spoon caravan. So we inclined the car's seats and hauled ourselves up and out of the car, shook our legs to reintroduce a blood flow to the knees and ankles before coffee'ing up our system's and heading onwards to complete the final 200km into Melbourne.
On arrival, we checked into a hostel in the city centre that turned out to be a proper dive; a real midden. The staff gave us keys to a dorm with no free beds, the once grey bed room walls had turned a sort of putrid purpley mauve and the long hallways smelt like death, with murder an entirely plausable hypothesis given the omminous staining on the brown excuses for carpets. Had we not slept in the car the night before, I suspect we would have had the determination to rifle further afield in Melbourne for better digs but the motivation wasnt with us that day and we took some small level of reassurance by seeing there
were lots of other backpackers staying there too.
Anyway, we spent a few days in the city wondering around checking it out. We were unlucky with the overcast weather though which impared the cities attractiveness a little, but nevertheless, it's clearly a braw place and one that once you venture from the main avenues into secretive sidestreets, you can find all sorts of charming wee bars, restaurants and boutiques hidden away that contribute to Melbournes vast spectrum of social alternatives.
We took things pretty easy in Melbourne and were chuffed to catch Scotland take victory from Italy in the Rugby World Cup and restore some feeling of national wellbeing. You don't wan't to be travelling around and folk constantly asking you where your from to reply: "Scotland. You probably can't identify it on a map of the World and it's likely that the only thing you do know about us is that we didnt score any points against the All Black's during The Rugby World Cup the other day..." Not anymore though, as not only did we beat Italy, but we also sacked France at football - amazing stuff!
On the morning we left Melbourne, we went
Drinking in 'The Fortune of War'
Berkeley Crew Day Trip: Mark, Dan, Moo, Me, Trung & Georgiaon a mission to find Ramsey Street from
Neighbours. With no idea where it was, I brought up Google Maps and typed in: "Ramsey Street, Melbourne". With rough schematics of the roads to get there in our heads, we drove off into Melbourne's suburbs in search of Harold Bishop, Bouncer and the Alessi Twins. Inevitably, we got lost and had to pull up and ask some local dude who actually called his sister for us on his mobile for directions - what a sound guy, he even penned us a rough map; admittedly something we should have really done ourselves before getting in the car!
It turns out we were fairly close and in real-life, the street is actually called "Pin Oak Court", which funnily enough, is not on Google Maps. So we used the random guy's map to find this nondescript cul-de-sac which was finally given away by a backpacker's rental van sitting outside, a lone security guard in a bright yellow flourescent bomber jacket and barriers stacked up in against the kirbs of the road, waiting to be rigged together for when shooting takes place. It was funny to walk about Ramsey Street for a few reasons.
For one, it was overcast while on the TV, it's NEVER overcast - only sunshine. (I think that's why I can't understand why it's been gloomy skies in Australia since driving South of Sydney. I had the perception that it was sun 24-7 in Oz and wondered if it would actually get dark at nights...just kiddin'.) Secondly, it (as many other things are in real life) was tiny compared to the image I perceived on TV. Thirdly, real people actually live in the houses in Ramsey Street and cars sit in the driveways. I got a bit of a smart-ar$ed retort when I asked the security guard about that but I was surprised to hear this. How can you know that filming's going on and resisting the temptation to twitch the curtains in your house for a wee peek at what's going on outside? So we took some token snaps to mark the occasion in front of Jim Daniel's house (I don't know who lives there now on the series - is it Harold and Madge?), then joined the Pacific Highway north to Sydney.
Before commiting ourselves to Sydney, we opted for a quick stop at Bondi Beach where
we spent the night in Noah's Backpackers. It was a decent enough hostel but on opening the door to the six man mixed dorm, we found a close-knit community of long term residents, indescretely wary of any new arrivals and all lying in their bunks watching DVD's on personal laptops. It was an obvious effort for a couple of them to muster a 'Hi' so we navigated the mess of personal belongings carelessly strewn around the floor, dropped our gear on our top bunks and got out of there to take part in the Killer Pool Competition in the bar and go for a couple of quiet beers. The next day, we meandered around Bondi and checked out the bustling beach there. It was good to see real waves cracking into the shore and actually see some folk up and surfing. Sure, it was no
Point Break or that
Old Spice advert from the 80's. It didnt arouse bars of Orff's
O Fortuna, but it
was cool to visit a beach famous for surfing and actually see folk getting joy from the waves rolling in instead of posing around with the board under their arms like it's the ultimate beach
fashion accessory - which, on many sands, it is.
When we reached the centre of Sydney, we wen't for a spin around to get our bearings and shot over the Sydney Harbour Bridge and back. I was feeling quite established as an urban driver in fast traffic until my enclosed manouvering let me down at the last gasp while dropping off The Monster. I managed to kiss the door of the car against the tight entrance to the garage there at Avis at King's Cross and transfer some metallic red paint from the car door onto a wall. I say 'kiss', it was more like a wee snog. Actually, when I say 'wee snog', what I really mean is that it was more of a full on, lipstick-smearing lingering embrace, rubbing the car off the wall while looking for a few inches of clearance between the unforgiving concrete and the expensive looking gloss. The dudes at the garage gave us the whole show: the slow, torture-expressioned headshake, down on their hunkers examining the car as if looking for life in a downed war soldier, injured with a terminal wound, like arm arm hanging off or something. 'Did you take
out excess insurance' gruffs Mechanic No.1 in thick Ozzie pangs to which we deadpanningly reply: 'Nup'. To be fair to them though, the lads impressively managed to polish up the graze on the door using a dirty old smeared cloth, dipped in petrol with each rub across the paint reducing the offense and relieving our stress levels before sending us on our way with no further charges - a close shave there...
An additional extra bonus of this partucular leg of our jaunt brought us the opportunity to catch up with pals from Scotland, Mark and Camilla who have been out here 2 years and 14 months respectively. Mark gave us a tip on arrival to head for the "WakeUp!" hostel next to Central Station a recommendation based on a previous stay there by the boy from The Glebe. Thanks mate!, as it turns out it had been awarded "Best Large Hostel in the World". It's true, it was excellent, a very nice place with everything a traveller needs and a 'Big Breakfast' the likes of which we havent seen for two months and are unlikely to during the next few months ahead.
It was great to catch
up with Mark that evening and be taken round to Redfern and his local, The Berkeley Hotel. The set up reminded me of
Cheers a bit as everyone was so friendly and the folk drinking there seemed to know everyone else's name as well as each pedestrian walking by on the street. A proper local! Mark really has landed on his feet here. I doubt folk phone and arrange to meet there, they just turn up and know they'll by acquainted with their familiar mates shortly. I've heard of frequent bar patrons being referred to as 'Regulars' but, for the guys and girls at The Berkeley, I'd call them 'Residents' - it is a hotel after all. I reckon each person could tell you that nights particular special from the food menu without having to check the chalked blackboard. Big up on that steak and pepper sauce Berkeley! - Awesome! That first night and the couple after we found ourselves drawn to The Berkely after a day's sightseeing with laughs and good company guaranteed. Thank you heaps to The Berkeley Barflies for welcoming us in and introducing us to the Cooper's - what an awesome bunch. At the weekend, we
met up with Tim and Camilla and took the Barflies out of their natural habitat for a pub crawl to The Rock's, a posh smattering of bars and restaurants down by the Harbour Bridge. The highlight was drinking and eating in The Lowenbrau, a Bavarian-themed bar serving excellent (but expensive) food and tankards of beers. (Private joke, but has Nat found that foot-long schnitzel in his handbag yet?!)
During the days, we did the predictable sightseeing things like visiting the Sydney Opera House and The Harbour Bridge and we found Sydney a nice city to just walk around with plenty of nice parks to check out too. While wandering around the Botanical Gardens, we realised that the trees were filled with bats, which was a bit crazy, a bit too
The Lost Boys for 3 in the afternoon in a nice, sunny, city in Oz. On our last evening, we took a scenic ferry with Mark from Circular Quay to Bondi for an awesome BBQ at Camilla and Tim's house. It was amazing and we got the chance to finally savour a barby in Australia which, I guess, just has to be done at some point. Thanks Camilla and
Tim!
On our last Friday in Sydney, after a load of hassle on the phone to RBS, I thankfully and relievingly collected my couriered replacement cashline card from the post office on my final attempt, following RBS cancelling my old one without warning two weeks before in Surfer's Paradise. It's up there with one of the last things you can do with the misfortune of happening to you while your on the other side of the World - no access to your accounts and leaving for South East Asia the next day...
No matter though - it arrived! Thanks Ma & Pa! Next up, Singapore and overland shenanigans through Malaysia...
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