Adelaide days

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Adelaide as a city seems to be very similar to Melbourne, in that it is walkable, clean, and in possession of everything you could want from a major conurbation. And though the city itself isn't bulging with singular tourist attractions, it's a good base for forays into the surrounding countryside - I did a Murray River cruise and Barossa Valley wine-tasting tour from here (I'll write separate entries for these.) I found an extremely good selection of Italian restaurants, all with a complement of local wines.

The hostel had a very similar turnover of guests to Melbourne, and I ended up being one of the longest-staying guests again. Most of the people I spoke to were of the opinion that Adelaide was boring, hence their rapid moving on. My favourite dorm-mates were a pair of Scottish teenagers - the girl was convinced that they'd be butchered in their sleep if they camped out in the open, and the guy got back so plastered one night that he was unable to climb into his bunk, flopped on his girlfriend's instead, and the morning sun revealed a pasty white Scotsman clad only in his undies and socks, drunkenly snoring.

Though I visited umpteen coffee shops in Adelaide, my sightseeing was pretty much restricted to the Botanical Gardens, which provided a pleasant afternoon ramble.

In the city, I saw two stores with McCabe in their name, though this must be some distant branch of the clan as I've not previously heard of any members of the family tree coming here voluntarily or involuntarily. I also saw a bedding store called Holy Sheet. For scientific purposes, I sampled the two Australia-specific items on the McDonald's menu - a McOz burger and an Aussie Deluxe. The former seemed to be a normal burger but with, of all things, a slice of beetroot in it. I'd already noticed a worrying propensity for Australian restaurants to offer beetroot as a vegetable, but to find it in a burger was frankly appalling (I should note here that I despise the stuff, and merely smelling it will cause me to gag.) The Aussie Deluxe seemed like a normal burger but with some bacon and egg in it.

I came to notice the ridiculously high price of books here when I was looking for some "Australiana" (the generic term used here for books about Australia and Australian culture) to read. $28 (=USD21 = ~11 quid) for a book written over ten years ago. This helps to explain the unusually high number of second-hand stores I've seen around.

With a simple change of letter, we come to the subject of boots. It would be a strange coincidence, but I'd noticed since arriving in Australia that my hiking boots had begun to squeak. Whatever the surface, however slowly I walked, they sounded like a hiccuping mouse. This was not an advantage when attempting to encounter wildlife. The various outdoor stores I visited could only suggest that I'd fatally compacted the insole, which was an unfixable condition. I was loth to throw them away, as they've been the most comfortable boots I've ever had, but squeaky boots are a liability in the wild so I was forced into the position of buying new boots and lugging the old ones round with me so that, back in the UK, I could either get them fixed or claim under the warranty. I saw the exact same pair but they were priced at more than twice what I'd paid in the US, so I ended up getting the cheapest lightweight boots I could find - they seem comfy, but look like they would normally be twinned with a tweed jacket for a walk through the Yorkshire Dales. Circa 1920.

On a similar foot-related theme, I'd self-diagnosed myself with a bad case of veruccas. Since India, I'd had some painful areas on my feet that I'd originally put down as just hard skin, but when I happened to give them a close examination, with my contact lenses in, I could see a number of small black spots. Fortunately there's some great stuff on the market for dealing with veruccas - you wear a plaster that's impregnated with some chemicals, and after a few days you can pretty much just pull the verucca out of your foot. This has a satisfaction rating somewhere close to that for picking at scabs.

Adelaide was also the site of my first interaction with Aborigines. Until now, I'd only seen a handful of them, shuffling around in town centres looking to all intents and purposes like down-and-outs. When Leif and I were sitting outside a pub on the night before he was due to leave for Alice Springs, a (clearly stoned) Aboriginal man approached to cadge a cigarette. We started chatting with him and, though he seemed a little mad (he was convinced Italy would win the World Cup), he was interested in where we were from and mentioned the difficulties for him in moving around the country because of the different Aboriginal dialects. His name was Tim Tam, though I didn't quite gather if that was merely a nickname. He was clearly well-known to the bar staff, as they indicated that they would get rid of him if we wanted. He eventually wandered off, his furtive mime of puffing at a joint indicating how his evening was going to proceed.

Speaking of Tim Tams, which are a type of chocolate biscuit I first encountered in Japan but which are native to Australia, I've been disappointed by the chocolate bars I've encountered here. Mars, Twix, Dairy Milk, etc are all manufactured under franchise, and don't have that (superior) English taste. However dark chocolate Tim Tams, as well as a creation called a Monte (from the same manufacturer, Arnott's), have proven to be extremely good when the munchies strike. I know this from my ongoing project to seek out, and publicise, the best chocolate concoctions that the world can produce.

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Photos

A rare sighting
Of another member of the clan

Sculpture
Of someone

War memorial
Detail

Leaf sculpture
On department store

Spaceship
In the Botanical Gardens

Rosella
Using digital zoom