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The Great Journey Part 4: Melbourne, Adelaide, Barossa Valley and Sydney

The Great Journey Part 4: Melbourne, Adelaide, Barossa Valley and Sydney

Old Apr 16, 2007, 8:53 am
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The Great Journey Part 4: Melbourne, Adelaide, Barossa Valley and Sydney

After nearly three months radio silence, here is the long awaited part four of my travelogue. It covers mid November to early December, starting with my brief stint in Melbourne and Adelaide, and including the first month of my stay in Sydney.

The Great Journey Part Four

LA to Melbourne

Departing the City of Angels on 13 November, I lost a whole day to crossing the international date line, and arrived in Melbourne on the 15th. I had rather been dreading the 16 hour flight, never having endured more than 11 hours in a plane before. This was my first experience of Qantas, and despite the lack of lie flat beds, apparently to be introduced in September 2003, I was impressed by the service.

The extra time allowed me to have supper, catch a movie and enjoy a proper sleep without the interruptions normally associated with the UK/East Coast hop. Sitting in the bubble on the upper deck of the 747 is always quieter being away from the engines and the passing bustle of the lower deck.

On leaving the airport in the blazing sunshine of a record drought, the cab driver decided to take advantage of my Pommy ignorance of all things Australian. He pointed in to a field next to the runway and said Look, a kangaroo! only to collapse with laughter as I strained through the window to try and catch a glimpse of the non existent marsupial!

Melbourne itself, rather like Birmingham, has not a great deal to recommend itself to the passing tourist, although one can happily idle away a long weekend if your schedule is not too pressing.

The city has very recently opened a new Art Gallery in Federation Square, the cubist architecture and skew wiff angles of which are worth a look, as is the picturesque waterfront along the Yarra River which flows through the centre of town.

Taking a trip on the famous trams which criss-cross the city, I visited the beach at St. Kilda which was most impressive and reminded me of the beach along Lakeshore Drive in Chicago.

I enjoyed my afternoon wandering through (Church?) St. which boasts some of the best non-mall shopping in Australia. However, I was quite ready to leave the city, whose principal claim to fame being that its improbably named suburb Moony Ponds is the home of Antipodean Housewife Superstar, Dame Edna Everidge. Reading Barry Humphries excellent biography, My Life As Me one can quite understand how he yearned to leave the quiet suburbia of the place and move on to bigger things.

Adelaide and the Barossa Valley

On the approach over Adelaide, I had a splendid overview of this compact and charming tree lined city, framed by the Mount Lofty Ranges to the north, and to the south the Southern Ocean, with the natural wilderness of Kangaroo Island just off the coast.

I had arranged to meet up with a friend from London who was living there. We spent a most enjoyable long weekend touring through the starkly beautiful wine country of South Australias Barossa Valley, deadly dry because of the lingering drought, and still bearing the scars of previous devastating bush fires.

Arriving at the just opened visitors centre for the Jacobs Creek winery (http://www.jacobscreek.com.au/), I enjoyed a tasting there and purchased a few bottles. Afterwards, we enjoyed a mouthwatering lunch at Maggie Beers restaurant (http://www.maggiebeer.com.au/- a sort of Australian Delia Smith) under the cooling shade of a tree watching the fish in the crystal clear waters of the man made lake below. Delicious!

That afternoon, I had my photo taken next to the Big Rocking Horse (http://www.thetoyfactory.com.au/), 60 feet high and backing up Bill Brysons assertion that the place is littered with such kitsch monstrosities.

The highlight of the weekend for me was yet to come, with a trip to the Cleland Wildlife Sanctuary. I was able to hand feed baby and full grown kangaroos from one hand, while feeding emus from another. Best of all was seeing my first Koala Bear, and having my photo taken holding it in my arms. Although quite heavy, the bears are very soft, have deep doleful eyes and have a delightful eucalyptus scent. The photo says it all; I am beaming from ear to ear! It really was a terrific experience!

Sydney

Arriving in Sydney was breathtaking, as the fine weather afforded sweeping views of the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge, the Jewels in the Crown of this international city.

I caught a cab straight to a friends house, in Bondi Junction, well located between the world renowned Bondi Beach and the City. Within half an hour I had visited and viewed what was to become my home from home for the next three months, just round the corner from Baz at the Eclipse Building (http://www.apartmentservice.com.au/property.php?id=112).

The one bedroom apartment was a real find, with air conditioning, a pool, spa, gym and fully furnished down to the essential champagne glasses and a DVD player. The clincher was a huge balcony with a view of the Harbour Bridge and Opera House which framed by the lights of the city at night was just what I had hoped for.

It was a week before I was able to move in, and I was very kindly put up by another friend in Sydney who was working as Front Desk manager at the citys best hotel, the Four Seasons (http://www.fourseasons.com/sydney/index). Their fantastic beachfront Point Piper apartment just a short kayak ride from the Harbour Bridge. With awesome views waking up at 5am seeing the twinkling lights of the Bridge across the harbour with the gentle lapping of the waves in my ears the place really made me feel I had arrived in Oz!

On my first rather foggy night, I was taken to see the marvellous views of the city from the bar at the ANA hotel, and felt very at home sitting with Camilla and my old Chatham chums!

For the next month or so I settled in to my new apartment, thrilled to be able to unpack everything properly for the first time on this trip.

I spent my time catching up on some reading, watching movies I had missed as well as some of the many sightseeing options. Ferry rides around the harbour, a most enlightening visit to the Shackleton Antarctic Exhibition at the Maritime Museum, followed by a jaunt on a Destroyer and an old Submarine in Darling Harbour.

I even managed to drag a famously philistine friend to the Opera House to see Verdis Rigoletto, which we both enjoyed as well as seeing quite a few local plays and film festivals.

Other cultural highlights included a trip to see Joan Rivers Broke and Alone Stand Up tour. She was hilariously funny and surprisingly switched on, despite her rumoured 70-plus years, Miss Rivers looked a million dollars (or $2,375,017.52 if the latest invoice from her surgeon is to be believed!).

The next stage will cover the latter part of my stay in Sydney covering Christmas, New Year and my trip to Hayman Island Resort.
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Old May 9, 2007, 9:55 am
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Parts 5, 6 and 7

The Great Journey Part Five

Christmas and New Year 2003 In Sydney

As the good weather and warm, long evenings started becoming more frequent, Sydneys social calendar takes a decidedly outdoor turn.

One Aussie speciality is outdoor moonlight cinema in the park http://www.stgeorge.com.au/openair/ I had two splendid picnic evenings watching classics such as "The Breakfast Club" and the surprisingly grisly "Saturday Night Fever", poignantly on the weekend after one of the Bee Gees died.

I watched several art house flicks. Of particular note was 9/11 in which eleven internationally acclaimed directors from around the globe each constructed an eleven minute nine second short film which tells a perspective of the events in New York, and also Michael Moores Oscar winning documentary Bowling for Columbine.

I was feeling particularly healthy, partly because of the Personal Trainer and Nutritionist I had engaged, but probably mostly because of the excellent weather of the Aussie summer. I also purchased a bike for trips around Centennial Park, which proved useful as I was making do without a car.

After spending three mornings a week with my trainer, I returned home to watch the addictive day time trash show, "Crossing Over with John Edward" an American psychic who claims to be able to speak to those who have passed on, and makes a very convincing and compelling television show about those contacts.

I indulged myself having a Float Tank experience. You are placed in a sensory deprivation box and lie in water which is 35% Epsom Salts and can actually sit up in the 40cm of water and still be supported by the dense water, just like in the Dead Sea. Listening to dolphin noises, you can sleep suspended in the saline water for about an hour, and it is very relaxing indeed.

Christmas

My friends apartment was decked out for Christmas with a real tree, lights and decorations, and we met up in the late afternoon for a quick dip in the harbour (just because we could, although the water was not warm at all!). We had all bought Secret Santa presents for each other, so our stockings were bulging with presents, and we sat round to open them and then made calls home.

My best present was a box of goodies sent all the way from London by another friend, stacked full of proper Twinings tea bags, union flag tissues and most importantly Coleman's Bread Sauce, without which Christmas is not Christmas! I particularly enjoyed reading a quirky little book called "Under the Skin" by Michel Faber, which I would recommend to you all.

At 7pm we sat down on the balcony, the table drenched with party poppers and crackers and had the most delicious Turkey with all the trimmings Christmas Lunch, made all the better watching the sun set behind the neon and lights of the city.

Boxing Day

An internationally famous institution is the Sydney-Hobart Yacht Race, which departs to cover the two day sail across some of the most treacherous seas to Tasmania around lunchtime. Since the disastrous storm decimated the boats in the late nineties, fewer boats entered this year. A rare and much needed rainstorm blighted the start this year, and I ended up soaked sitting in the car on the headland from which we had hoped to see the boats off.

New Year's Eve

On New Years we all rocked up to my friends beachside/harbourside apartment for a terrific party, made even more fun by an invasion of about 30 Irish people who really got things going. The fireworks were just as dramatic as they appear on television, and being the first major city to celebrate the New Year it is a great feeling to seeing the celebrations reflected on the water of the worlds most famous Harbour.

It was such a shame to contrast the ebullient display Down Under with the ghost town shots of London at midnight, with no public display at all. It is embarrassing that one of the worlds most impressive capital cities cannot get its act together to organize something to make us proud for the most important night of the year.

Waking up on the first day of 2003, we headed off to Bondi Beach for Eggs Benedict on the Promenade and watched the surfers in the waves whilst sipping our coffee. It doesnt get much better than that.

Hunter Valley

Shortly after Christmas I ventured out of the city for the first time for the two hour drive to Hunter Valley and the wine country, with some friends from home. We rented an idyllic little prairie style house, http://www.valleyviewcottage.com.au/ and used that as our base, hiring a driver to take us around the vineyards.

The wine is delicious, and the tasting rooms are not too commercialized so the experience is very personalized and pleasurable. I was able to sample sparkling red wine for the first time, and in the evenings enjoyed a barbeque of Kangaroo steaks to help us enjoy the day's purchases, spending the other day reading Hugo Young's excellent experiences trying to make it big in New York's journalistic circles "How to Lose Friends and Alienate People".

Back in Sydney the outdoor life continued, with the Jazz in the Park concerts. One of the things about Sydney not mentioned in the guidebooks is the enormous bats which commute from their daytime roosts in the Botanical Gardens to the suburbs at sundown. These animals must have a four or five foot wingspan and lend the place a Gotham City air as night falls.

Continuing my health kick, I visited the salt water pool http://www.icebergs.com.au/swimming.asp
hewn out of the rocks at the side of Bondi Beach, and enjoyed swimming with a friend.

During my stay I took advantage of the excellent postal service between Sydney and London, writing many postcards and long letters, which often arrived home in less than five days! I also received a cake in the post from Florida my mother not having forgotten my enjoyment of food parcels when I was at school!

Sis Arrives

My sister arrived in Sydney in time for my birthday in mid February, flying on Lauda Austrian Airlines via Vienna and Kuala Lumpur, the cheapest Business Class from the UK to Oz.

I celebrated my birthday at Hugo's Lounge, in King's Cross, and was able to muster about 25 people, almost half of whom were friends from England, so it felt like being at home.

We had decided to visit Hayman Island Resort in the Whitsunday Islands www.hayman.com.au which is renowned as Australia's premier resort location. I had long wanted to visit, remembering three years back when Chris Tarrant did his Capital Breakfast Show from there for a week in baking temperatures while I was getting ready for work in a cold, dark London winter.

The minute my sister arrived in Sydney, the three month drought broke, and she was plagued with cloudy skies and rain. I was hoping that escaping north would help her enjoy some good weather and top up her tan. Sadly we were disappointed.

Hayman Island and Aborted Landing

Coming in to land at the notoriously tiny airfield at Hamilton Island, the plane juddered about and at 100 feet we emerged from the clouds to a rainy and foggy morning, the plane engines screaming and the pilot pulling up sharply as we were about to land.

It looked as if we were going to be diverted to the mainland, which would have cut a whole day off our stay and made the hotel transfer complicated. Luckily on the second approach the pilot was able to land the plane onto the river that was the runway. We walked out into a deluge.

One of the highlights of the Hayman experience is the luxury catamaran transfer from Hamilton to the resort, turning left to the pristine white yacht moored just a few yards from the plane, whilst everyone else clambers aboard tired hotel coaches in the car par to the right.

However, we were absolutely drenched by the time we got on board, and initially shunned the champagne and canaps for a hot chocolate and towels to dry off our sodden clothes.

The hour long cruise to Hayman was choppy to say the least, and I spent the time on deck getting some fresh air to ward off queasiness. I have a splendid photo of sis, swathed in towels, shooting daggers at me for suggesting the trip in the first place.

We were greeted on the dockside by the white-starch uniformed salutes of the staff, and driven in golf carts to our splendidly appointed Pool View room.

Unfortunately our luggage had suffered from the wet as well, and to cap it all one of the bottles of (luckily white) Hunter Valley wine I had packed had exploded during the journey and doused both our clothes with smelly wine. It was not a good start!

After the disappointments of the first day, the second day was brilliantly sunny and we enjoyed mucking about in the lagoon, and took advantage of the famous Hayman Pool, which is eight times the size of an Olympic pool, with a smaller octagonal freshwater pool in its centre. Great fun, although to be avoided around sunset when the drool from the endemic smooching honeymooning couples was liable to cause a health hazard!

Sadly the bad weather meant our trip to the Great Barrier Reef was not possible, and although our experience was blighted by the poor weather the place is well worth a visit as long as you go at the right time of year and check the weather forecast before you leave.

Our catamaran transfer back to the airport was a lot more fun, where sis enjoyed sitting out on the upper deck, foaming surf edging off to the horizon and Australian Flag waving in the background as she did her best Gerri Halliwell impression.

Lunch on "The World"

In my last week in Sydney I lived the high life, and had lunch with the reigning Miss Australia http://www.santabanta.com/contestants.asp?picid=309 aboard The World, the first residential cruise ship. It was fascinating chatting about her experiences during the aborted Nigerian Miss World contest, which was rescheduled at the last minute to London, and from which she had just returned. We enjoyed relaxing on the ship, one hundred feet in the air in the middle of Circular Quay, on level with the Harbour Bridge to our left and the Opera House to our right, bathed in the midday sunshine.

The next part of my jottings will cover the trip up to Tropical North Queensland, the Dengue Fever outbreak in Cairns and my first few days in Brisbane.

Having left Sydney, I began my journey home with a stop in Cairns, enduring cyclonic weather and taking a train to a hut in the rainforest, then to Brisbane, and a trip to the zoo!


The Great Journey Part Six

My last week in Sydney seemed to speed past as I went out most nights saying goodbye to people, and the days spent planning and booking the journey home, and tying up loose ends.

I was sad to leave my apartment at the The Eclipse building in Bondi Junction as it had become quite a home from home for me after nearly four months in residence. However the constant drone of the traffic outside my window will not be missed!

Having yet again squeezed my belongings into my ever accommodating suitcase, it was time to get back on the road again and head from Sydney to the Tropical North East of Australia, and Cairns in Queensland.

Cairns and the North

Booking myself on the domestic sector of an international flight bound for Tokyo Narita meant I benefited from the larger seats and improved service on this flight, and certainly this should be born in mind if your are booking your own journeys around Oz.

I arrived at Cairns at the back end of a Tropical Cyclone, the Southern Hemisphere equivalent of a hurricane, and the rain streamed from the heavens in a seemingly never ending, umbrella defying deluge.

My plan to take a trip out to the Coral Sea (remember those Enya lyrics?!) and dive on the Great Barrier Reef were yet again thwarted by the weather, and as there is not a great deal else to do in Cairns, I passed the time at the movies watching Maid In Manhattan and Rules of Attraction.

At a loose end one rainy evening, I was amused to read the hotels rather feeble instructions on how to survive a cyclone. Needless to say they did not inspire confidence!

EMERGENCY CYCLONE SURVIVAL PROTOCOL:

1. Take shelter in the strongest part of your room, eg bathroom

2. If the building starts to break up, protect yourself with mattress and blankets (!)

3. Should the above fail, we recommend you anchor yourself to strong fixtures such as water pipes (!!)

Kuranda and The Tropical Rainforest

Pressing on, I jumped on the Kuranda Scenic Railway www.kuranda.au.com heading for my next destination, the depths of the Tropical Rainforest. Travelling through the persistent downpour of the of the dank, verdant rainforest it was poignant to remember this railway was hewn by hand over the course of four years in the 1890s. Over twenty lives were lost by Irish and Italian workmen, many of whom suffered gangrene, malaria, dysentery and even a few cases of bubonic plague!

The remoteness and inhospitable nature of the region was underlined by the fact that at the time of my visit several sub precincts of Cairns were no go areas due to an outbreak of the mosquito born Dengue Fever, which went on the infect nearly 150 people in the locality.

The train pulled me up 1000 metres to the top of the Barron Falls, impressive and in full flood at the time of my visit. I disembarked in the small tourist trap town of Kuranda, the wet now seeping up through my shoes as well as drenching my clothes and luggage.

Narrowly avoiding the small ant colony located in the boot of my taxi, I placed all my luggage on the back seat and eventually arrived at my home for the next five nights, a rainforest retreat.

Walking into the reception area I was greeted by a cavernous Balinese space, ten metre high bamboo logs set amongst sofas and dining tables, and looking out from the swim up bar over two swimming pools set amongst lush vegetation and naturalistic rocks, linked by a cascading waterfall.

I was staying in a luxury air conditioned hut on stilts, furnished in contemporary style, with open slats in the bathroom floor to let water drain out.

Everything was very cosy. The trouble was, I was not the only one to think so, and after an attack with a can (yes, a whole can!) of Raid I retreated to the bar and returned to a smorgasbord of dead wildlife on the floor of the hut. Once swept through the aforementioned slats on the bathroom floor, I felt a lot more at home!

The sun paid a visit on the second day, and I ventured out to the pool. With less than ten guests in the 50 room resort, it was like having the place to oneself. I had plenty of time to relax, write postcards and finish Michael Moores tabloid critique of American Society Stupid White Men and also Patricia Highsmiths classic The Talented Mr Ripley which was much better than the film.

With so few guests in the place, we soon got to know each other, and dined together most evenings in very enjoyable company. I travelled on the SkyRail, an hour long ride suspended from a cable in a gondola above the canopy of the rainforest, with stunning views out towards the Great Barrier Reef.

It was also possible to enjoy a sunset massage under the palm trees by the pool a great way to end the day.

Brisbane

Arriving in Brisbane after a two hour flight from Cairns on board a brand new 737-800 (with funky winglets!) I checked in to the excellent Marriott hotel on the riverbank. Setting out to explore the city on foot before night fell, I walked along the river footpath, past the many residential boats moored close to shore, and through the Botanical Gardens, across the non-wobbly Millennium style bridge to the South Bank Park.

Unlike most parks created for cultural festivals, this one had not been corrupted and diminished by subsequent development, but rather maintained and now augmented to include an arbor walk, IMAX Theatre and a preserved street from old-time Brisbane. The most remarkable feature of this complex is the artificial beach (http://www.terragalleria.com/pacific....aust2489.html) a landscaped Olympic sized pool, fringed by white sand looking out over the river, with the city's skyscrapers in the background.

Overall, the city reminded me of a sunny day in Bristol. However, on my return I stayed at a much less pricey hotel on the northern fringes of the city, and without access to the gardens and the river had a much less favorable impression of the place. Should you visit, the shopping mall is renowned (although my already bulging suitcase prohibited even window shopping!), the outdoor cinema, south bank arts complex and Peace Pagoda should not be missed.

Crocodile Hunter Zoo

Many of you will have watched Steve Irwin a.k.a. the Crocodile Hunter at the movies or on the Discovery Channel. His Zoo http://www.crocodilehunter.com.au/au...ome/index.html is located just an hour by car north of Brisbane. The approach is through the remarkable Glass House Mountains, volcanic formations of awesome magnitude scattered like pepper pots over the landscape.

Although he does appear spontaneously about ten times a year, you can only really guarantee seeing Steve Irwin himself over the busy Easter and Christmas holidays (EDIT: sadly not possible now since his death), when he returns home. Nonetheless, I really enjoyed the two croc shows, and was amazed at how close you are able to get to these twenty five foot long prehistoric monsters.

The zoo is undergoing a massive expansion on the back of profits from movies and documentaries, with plans to introduce an Everglades Experience air boat ride, where visitors can feed less aggressive North American Alligators for themselves (like the ones we have in the lakes around the house in Sarasota!). Phase one is complete, and a 6,000 seat Crocatorium will open at the end of this year to house shows.

Apart from watching the keepers feed the crocs with weeks old rotting carcasses, I saw native Australian camels, albino kangaroos, a rare Komodo dragon, was able to stroke a koala bear, enjoyed feeding the pigs, goats and sheep in the (kiddies!) petting zoo. I even had my photo taken with a twelve foot python wrapped around my neck.

For my part the best part of the day was walking round the croc pens after 3pm, when most of the visitors depart on the free bus to Brisbane. With fewer people about, the animals came out of their muddy pools to bask in the sunshine, and behind the double fences you can get to within about two feet of these beasts, and look right into their green eyes. Incredible!

Unfortunately for my readers, I survived, and there is more of my travelogue to come!

The next part will cover my trips up to the Sunshine Coast and down to the Gold Coast, as well as my trip to the beautiful island of Bali.


This extract will cover my trips from Brisbane up to the Sunshine Coast and down to the Gold Coast, as well as my trip to the beautiful island of Bali, the first part of which was written on the plane.

The Great Journey Part Seven

Experiencing a little turbulence as I make this entry up here at 35,000 feet. I am on a virtually empty 767 over Alice Springs, crossing the red centre of the Great Sandy Desert en route to the Indian Ocean and Bali.


The Sunshine Coast and Noosa

Noosa, just north of Brisbane, had been recommended by all who visited as somewhere I would love, and this was certainly true. Similar to St. Armands Circle in Sarasota, this sleepy seaside town is a Mecca for those who enjoy shopping, lunching or just lazing on a beach all day and it suited me just fine!

After breakfasting on Eggs Benedict in a sidewalk caf in Hastings Street, I set out from town, along the white sand beach on a two-hour trek though the coastal rainforest on the headland to a remote bay mentioned in my guidebook.

Along the way, whilst filling up my water bottle, I encountered three foot long lizard and have the photos to prove it which scuttled away into the undergrowth on seeing me.

A very hot, humid noonday sun had left me rather sweaty after my perambulation, and looking down from the Hells Gates viewpoint to the isolated mile long stretch of sand known as Alexandria Bay, I determined to take a dip in the surf when I got down there.

On reaching the shore, it became obvious that none of the few people entering the waves had remembered their bathing costumes that morning. Not being one to stand out in a crowd I joined in wearing only my watch, and enjoyed an extremely refreshing dip in the South Pacific Ocean.

The Gold Coast, Surfers Paradise

An hour to the south of Brisbane is Surfers Paradise, a sort of Australian equivalent to Megalouf or Torremolinos, except infested with Nikons of Japanese tourists. It had quite a nice beach, and I stayed at the centrally located and relatively inexpensive Courtyard Marriott.

Unable to afford the extortionate AUS$350/GBP175 per night price of the www.palazzoversace.com I set off that morning to take breakfast and snoop round the only Versace hotel in the world. Located just next door to the Australian Sea World, it is marketed as the only six star hotel in Australia a reputation which was backed up by the sumptuous breakfast buffet I enjoyed.

Centred around a pool with an artificial sandy beach attached, everything carries the Versace motif, even down to the cutlery, and is well worth a visit even if only to gawp.

Byron Bay

Onwards to Byron Bay, a renowned hippy colony surviving to this day, the place is slowly becoming more of a tourist town and may soon lose its magic. However, the townspeoples refusal to allow multinational corporate retailers to spoil the high street means that this McDonalds free town retains a charm lost by many similar places.

The first point of interest is the brilliant white 19th Century Georgian style lighthouse http://www.photomagic.com.au/gallery...ighthouse.html, still in use today, situated on the top of the cliffs on the overgrown headland which overlooks the Bay. It is officially the Easternmost point in the Australian mainland.

As brightly coloured hang gliders swooped on thermals overhead, I walked along the cliffside path into the foamy surf below. After a few moments I was rewarded with the rare sighting of a seven foot across manta ray, feeding about 100 feet from shore. Having pointed this out to a few other sightseers, soon a crowd formed and we were further privileged to see a pod of dolphins, about 12 all told, surfing the waves nearby and that really made my day!

I checked into the very acceptable Waves Motel http://www.byron-bay.com/waves/index.html and spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach, this time with trunks firmly in place!

As the sun set, I walked on to the breakwater at the far end of the beach, and watch the orange sun melt behind a far off extinct volcano, the perfect end to what was my last full day in Australia.
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Old May 11, 2007, 5:00 am
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Join Date: Nov 2003
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Originally Posted by krug
Adelaide and the Barossa Valley

That afternoon, I had my photo taken next to the Big Rocking Horse (http://www.thetoyfactory.com.au/), 60 feet high and backing up Bill Brysons assertion that the place is littered with such kitsch monstrosities.

The highlight of the weekend for me was yet to come, with a trip to the Cleland Wildlife Sanctuary. I was able to hand feed baby and full grown kangaroos from one hand, while feeding emus from another. Best of all was seeing my first Koala Bear, and having my photo taken holding it in my arms. Although quite heavy, the bears are very soft, have deep doleful eyes and have a delightful eucalyptus scent. The photo says it all; I am beaming from ear to ear! It really was a terrific experience!
Krug, many thanks for sharing this as it truly does brings back some fantastic memories for me ^ . I visited Adelaide the first couple of times in 82/83 and 86/87 (as a 8 and 12 year old) and recall climbing to the top of the Big Rocking Horse and sharing the same experience as you at Cleland. Unfortunately though, I was a little too young to fully appreciate experiencing the Barossa Valley and enjoying various samples.
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Old Jul 4, 2007, 5:00 am
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Part 8 - Singapore and Bangkok, including Bridge Over The River Kwai

Leaving Bali at the end of March 2003, I headed to the city state of Singapore, and onwards to Bangkok.


The Great Journey Part Eight

Leaving Bali

I started my day at 6am, hopping on to the rickety old boat that would take me the twenty minute ride across the bay to meet my airport car. Now with serious luggage in tow, I was concerned the boat would not be able to cope with the weight, but everything is no problem, Mr krug! in Bali, so I left it to the hotel staff to sort out.

With a fair chop and stiff breeze blowing, I was doused a few times with salty water from the bay, but soon dried off in the tropical breeze.

On the journey back, the rain started, and I counted three overladen brightly painted trucks upturned on the side of the road as we journeyed back to Denpasar. My driver must have been a distant relative of Michael Shumacher, and insisted on driving mostly into the oncoming traffic, indicator light and horn permanently in use, no doubt driving on tyres balder than Duncan Goodhew.

Singapore

The flight to Singapore passed without incident, and on arrival I grabbed a cab and headed to my hotel. On the way I was chatting about the reputation Singapore has as a highly controlled and planned city state.

The cab driver motioned to the large planters full of blossoming flowers in the central median of the airport expressway he explained that these were designed to be removed in the event of bombings or disablement of Chiangi Airport, and that the road had no overhead obstructions to allow it to be used as an emergency runway. A sobering thought especially in the current climate of war that Singapores oasis of stability and success is situated in one of the most volatile regions on the planet.

I had chosen my hotel because it boasted one particular rare feature all the bathrooms had octagonal windows facing out into the Marina, allowing panoramic cityscapes to be viewed whilst performing ones ablutions! http://www.ritzcarlton.com/hotels/si...ns/default.asp

It was early April, and the SARS epidemic was just hitting the news, and the war in Baghdad was still ongoing. Both the flight over, and the hotels were empty, so I thought I could probably try my luck staying at another hotel at a cheaper rate, and picked upon The Fullerton, which was the other side of the Marina, situated in the old Post Office Building http://www.fullertonhotel.com/fullerton1.html . The best feature of this hotel was the electric curtains, which could be activated from the side of my bed and programmed to open when my alarm went off!

Whilst in Singapore, I went on a Duck Tour in an amphibious craft around the city and splashed in to the Marina, where a storm crept darkly upon us and the tropical deluge reduced visibility to about 20 feet. The only other non shopping/eating experience I did was a visit the fantastic Raffles Hotel.

Raffles Hotel and the Long Bar

The place has been perfectly restored, with pristine white walls and colonnades. I had the best Afternoon Tea, having not had anything to eat all day, I really enjoyed filling my boots at the all you can eat buffet! The place is very colonial, with Indian waiters in starched white uniforms making sure everything progressed smoothly.

Afterwards, I went upstairs to the Long Bar to sample a genuine Singapore Sling and it really was like no other I have tasted definitely the unmissable attraction in Singapore. A good ending to my three day sojourn in this small throwback to the days of independent city states.

On the whole, although Singapore cannot be faulted as a tourist destination, it is perhaps this very blandness which made me find the place rather dull and impersonal. A great place to experience first time on a stopover for somewhere else, but not, I think, a destination in itself.

With SARS publicity reaching fever pitch, there were noticeably more people sporting tasteful blue masks when I returned to the Chiangi airport. As I spent my last few dollars in the Duty Free, the assistants were noticeably keeping their distance from me, and turning away to speak. Although I get this a lot (!) I was sure I was not stricken with the breath of Beelzebub, so can only attribute it to SARS paranoia.

Bangkok and even more SARS paranoia

On the Cathay Pacific flight from Singapore to Bangkok, everyone was very conscious of the fact that this was a connecting service from Hong Kong, home to the biggest uncontrolled outbreak. All the cabin attendants wore surgical masks throughout the flight, and we were all given a free mask to wear optionally during the flight. Once we landed in Bangkok, we were told it was mandatory to wear our masks, and they should not be removed at least until we left the terminal building.

Having filled out a detailed health declaration on the aircraft, I was greeted by a crowd of nurses, who took my temperature, and then passed me on to a doctor who interviewed me in broken English and declared me fit, stamping my declaration.

I had decided to spoil myself yet again and stay at what is renowned to be one of the best hotels in the world, The Oriental in Bangkok www.mandarinoriental.com . My two day stay there did not disappoint! I was picked up in a pale gold Mercedes Limousine, and chauffeur driven by Mr Adams (Car No. 1!) to the hotel in icy comfort, not worrying about the traffic, noise, pollution, heat or dust outside my window.

The newly renovated room was quite simply one of the best I have ever stayed in, with a Bose speaker system, and a great view over the river and swimming pool. The bathroom was supremely terrific, and I was impressed by the way that however many hotel soaps and shampoos I nicked during the day, my personal butler would replace them within the hour without batting an eyelid!

The first full day I woke at 6am and breakfasted on the terrace by the river, already sweltering in the humidity. I had booked to go on the River Kwai/Death Railway Tour.

The Bridge over the River Kwai

I visited the JEATH Museum at Katchanaburi, which stands for Japan, England, Australia, Thailand and Holland, the five nationalities who lived and died on the 'Death Railway'. The nearby town contains two cemeteries to the dead, which number over 100,000, most of whom were less than thirty years old, some as young as eighteen.

An abbot opened the museum twenty years ago to remind future generations of what happened in the war. Following the fall of Singapore in 1942, 60,000 POWs were marched north to the River Kwai. The Japanese wanted to build a railway for quick access for the troops to reach Burma from Thailand, linking the Japanese base at Singapore to India. Their experts told them 3 years, but the Japanese were going to use slave labour to do it in 16 months.

The museum itself is on the banks of the River Kwai, consisting of a war memorial based around a Bodhi tree and a replica of one of the huts. Inside were photos dating back to that era, and really brought the horrors home to me. There were pictures of Japanese soldiers standing beside the bridge, newspaper cuttings of those who were liberated, and a map showing the forty or more camps that were strung along the River Kwai.

More harrowing were the portraits: the British prisoner, Jack Walker, managed to make etchings on pieces of smuggled paper of what he had witnessed. These were elaborated when he was released and hung in the museum. They were not for the faint hearted.

Pictures of cadaverous men with skin afflictions and diseases being herded through the thick jungle, hollow eyed prisoners being beaten, and those in the cholera tent being laid out to die. But the worse were the tortures inflicted by the Japanese guards including crucifixions with barbed wire. This was very shocking stuff and I emerged from the museum in a contemplative mood.

Some History

More than 90,000 laborers (coolies) and 15,000 prisoners of war died of malnutrition, disease and abuse in the most terrible conditions during construction of the railway, giving rise to the name 'Death Railway'. Unbelievably, the bridge was used only once by the Japanese in their invasion of India. It was bombed by Allied Forces in 1945. Today, a bridge stands firmly in its place in a picturesque setting in Kanchanaburi. You can walk across this bridge, however, wooden planks are narrow and I found myself darting for one of the side overlook shelters when a train began moving in my direction!

That evening I went out to visit Pat Pong and the night market, where I managed to get some extremely genuine Cartier watches as knock down prices, and enjoyed my trip home in a multi coloured Tuk Tuk motorised rickshaw very James Bond!

Having been on the move for a few days, I took a relaxing day by the pool and enjoyed free sorbets and cool towels in the humid sun of Bangkok.

My final day in Thailand saw another early start for a tour of the sights of the city, including the magnificent Royal Palace, Emerald Buddha, and Canals in a long boat of particular interest was the miniature Angkor Wat temple in which a ginger cat had taken up residence.

Mr Adams took me back to the airport in supreme comfort, and I was off to Mumbai in India.

My next (and final!) instalment will cover my swift trip to Mumbai, then a week in Dubai and my return home.
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Old Jul 4, 2007, 8:17 am
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Part 9: Stalker in Mumbai, Dubai and The End

My travels and seven month odyssey completed, I am now back in London catching up with you all.

Here are my final musings on Mumbai in India and Dubai, in the United Arab Emirates, and some thoughts on my travel, including hints and tips for those of you inspired by my journey to do the same thing yourself.

The Great Journey Part Nine

Mumbai

After the sights of Thailand, I headed off to Mumbai in India to visit a friend who was working there as a make-up artist for the booming Indian film industry known as Bollywood.

The city used to be called Bombay, but the name was changed in 1996, along with others in India, to Mumbai, although still widely referred to as Bombay by the locals.

Coming in to land in the late evening, I saw people milling about on the streets, the glow of welding in small houses below. I was excited at my first glimpse of India. The plane was fitted with a camera under the forward landing gear, and I saw the runway zooming upon us as we touched down, and although I enjoyed it, this feature would not be loved by those scared of flying!

I had been advised to get a prepaid cab from the airport, and after receiving umpteen dockets, stamps and various other approvals, and spent as much as the cab fare itself as tips for the motley crew of porters whose attempts to fit my luggage into the cab singularly failed, I was on my way.

Taxi Ride of Death

Having braved just the Death Railway in Thailand, I was now subjected to the Indian equivalent, the Taxi Ride of Death. The cab was not what one might describe as sophisticated. Without seat belts, or even the elementary precaution of putting the headlamps on, we careered through the crowded late evening streets of Mumbai.

The only available safety devices were the heavily used horn, and the drivers sense of humour; he was enjoying my evident discomfort of the staccato journey.

I was cursing my friend under my breath throughout the journey and when I pulled up at the hotel, her reputation was less than zero. Cracked plaster and dirty walls greeted me at the Garden House Hotel. I luckily realized at the last minute that the driver had taken me to the wrong hotel, and I was relieved to be taken to the correct address, The Gordon House Hotel (www.ghhotel.com) an excellent boutique style place which was clean and quiet.

My Stalker

My friend was busy preparing for a two week film shoot in the Himalayas, and had kindly arranged for friends of hers to contact me and keep me entertained for my first day in India. The most persistent of these texters was Anita so I arranged to meet her for lunch at the other Taj Mahal Hotel near where my friend was working.

Although a half hour late, I arrived and lunched with Anita. Although chatty, I had been warned not to impart too much information to her as she was the sort who was likely to file everything away for mischief later on. Rather like random people one is seated next to at a wedding, I was able to easily pass a few hours chatting about nothing. However, by the end of our repast I think I had covered all there was to say.

Unfortunately, during the lunch Anita had invited me to a Black Tie Ball that Saturday at the Indian Ex Patriate Club. I was cautious to accept the invitation, as not being James Bond I had failed to consider full Black Tie kit an essential part of a round the world trip. It would mean I would have to procure a DJ, shirt, even shoes and cufflinks. Anita assured me that she knew just the place, and I thinking along the lines of Moss Bros thought this would be no problem.

A half hour later I had been taken by Tuk Tuk to a tailors, and after trying on possibly the most shiny DJ ever, and then a collection of long cut Indian embroidered garments, all costing in excess of three hundred pounds, I thought it was time to make my goodbyes and leave her company.

I met up with my friend that afternoon at a coffeeshop, and had fun following her to see what she got up to at work, and then having supper at the Taj in the outdoors. We had so much to talk about, and not enough time to get through everything, but enjoyed the evening, and hatched a plan to politely refuse Anitas invitation.

We agreed that the easiest way out of this would be to plead Delhi Belly, and call Anita in the morning to let her know I would not be coming with her that evening.

The Excuse

My friend would back up my story if required. At 0915 the next day I called Anita up, with my best trying to convince Matron I should be off games thespian abilities, and pleaded illness. Silence greeted me at the other end. No word of concern for my condition, which was obviously painful as by now stomach cramps had added to my woes.

But I will not be able to go if you do not accompany me! she lectured down the phone. Despite her protestations, I made it very clear that even if I did recover I would not feel well enough to go this evening, nor would I be able to procure the necessary kit during the day. She was not taking no for an answer and despite my protestations, said she would call me that afternoon to check whether I would be better by then.

The minute she put down the phone to me, she was on the phone to my friend to confirm my story. She then called the hotel switchboard, which had been primed to refuse all calls. Later she called the concierge directly to check on my whereabouts later that afternoon, when I was out for afternoon tea at the Taj Hotel. When I returned she called the room once again, and ignoring it the thing rang for over five minutes, whilst she also rang my mobile simultaneously. It was obviously time to head out again, and I had a very pleasant sunset cocktail at a rooftop Bar overlooking the Gateway to India and away from the bustle of the streets below.

My stalker had not relented, however. Several text messages followed, and then the last straw was when she called my room at 1030 that evening (probably to check where I was again). Luckily I had just gone to bed, so was quite groggy, and amplified this pretending to be out of it on painkillers etc. Still, she wanted to know where I had been that afternoon when the concierge told her I was out. Losing patience I just pretended to drift back off to sleep. I was quite pleased to be leaving the next day to escape her, although I had five missed calls from her in Dubai before she got the message.

She was quite obviously a bunny boiler and to be avoided!

The Gateway to India

The major tourist site in Mumbai is the Gateway to India, situated to the side of the Taj Mahal Hotel and built to commemorate the visit of the Emperor to his colony in 1903. It is rather like a larger version of the Marble Arch in London, right on the harbour and thronged with a mass of humanity at all times of day.

The Taj Mahal Hotel, where the Rolling Stones were staying at the time, although outrageously pricey, is an oasis of calm in a sea of squalour, and I retreated there most afternoons during my stay for afternoon tea and a dose of civilisation.

Yet just outside this temple of capitalism is the most grinding poverty, with beggars asking for money at every possible juncture. Gin asked me when I saw her if I had seen Tumor Boy. Not sure what she meant I asked her to describe this person. He was about 15, very skinny, and had a huge football sized tumor coming out of his stomach which he held in both his hands. I remembered him from earlier in the day, when he had walked up to my cab at the traffic lights and begged for money, the unclothed tumor in plain view.

Surely there is something wrong with a country in which poverty is such that this tumor is probably the mainstay of this boys income? From the window of my cab, I saw an old lady with withered leg, gypsies with babies being pinched to cry so I would give them money. Just awful.

The buildings, although obviously grand when built seventy to one hundred years ago are now dilapidated slum like dwellings, the streets pot holed and paving slabs missing from the sidewalk, pilfered for private use. What a waste.

On my final day in town, bags packed, car booked and ready to go, bribes paid, I passed the morning visiting the Elephanta Caves. A pleasant boat ride across the bay allowed some fresh air, and a release from the pollution and heat of the city. Hewn into the local rock cliffs these caves, aside from some amusing monkeys playing in the trees, were about as interesting as a school trip to an archeological dig.

Sigh of Relief

I felt rather guilty for not having been able to cope with India in my defence I can only cite the fact that many others have a similar first experience to mine, but go on to love the place. The ever-present poverty and all invasive filth, in addition to the biblical deformities seemingly present on every street corner were simply more than I could handle.

I may well have been jaded by seeing so many wonderful sights, tired from journeying on my own for the previous three weeks or just ready to go home, but I can tell you that once I had received no less than seven approval stamps on my departure documentation to allow me to step on to the overbooked and delayed plane out of there I breathed a sigh of relief.

Dubai, United Arab Emirates

After a very long four days in India, I was very ready to return to the 21st Century sophistication of Dubai. I arrived late at night at the awesome futuristic airport, and checked in to a hotel, before calling a friend from London with whom I was going to stay.

I woke up in the hotel to a sandstorm raging outside my window, dust flying and sun obliterated. With little sunshine available there was no opportunity for topping up the tan, so I met up with my chum and headed off to the Yacht Club for lunch.

Staying on the 24th floor of a condominium on Sheikh Zayed Road, I had a great view of the nearby Emirates Towers, and towards the sea a view of the worlds tallest hotel, the super luxurious Burj al Arab http://www.jumeirahinternational.com/.

I last visited the UAE with sis in 1999, and we had a great sunshine break before Christmas, enjoying the shops and restaurants, and a 4x4 ride through the desert sand dunes.

Many people think the place is very Arab, but in my opinion is extremely westernized with a large ex pat community, and very safe. It is just seven hours away by plane and the four hour time difference means jet lag is not a problem on a short break.

One night we went out in to a very rare thunderstorm. The rain came hurling down, and drivers more used to uninterrupted drought conditions caused road chaos with many accidents.

We eventually arrived at the hotel where were eating that night, and sheltered in the reception as rain started getting especially strong. Used to this sort of weather at home, I decided we should make a dash for it. After being drenched as we ran towards the beach club, with massive waves crashing on the beach nearby, we heard some wrenching noises, and looked up to see the French windows in front of the first floor restaurant buckling, the pings of the breaking supporting struts audible though the wind, and then the amazing sight of the roof peeling off like a sardine can. All very dramatic like a night in with my very own Worlds Worst Storms TV programme.

My name is Svetlana, but you can call me Svetty

After we had retreated from the violence of the storm outside, there was quite a buzz in the bar as people discussed the hurricane force winds outside. It seemed the only people who were brave enough to venture out that evening were those who were just beginning their evenings work. One particular girl of Russian origin had the best line of introduction I have ever encountered, sidling up and whispering My name is Svetlana, but you can call me Svetty.

La Retour de la Chasse

Well that was the journey that was, I returned to London on Easter Sunday, with England basking in an unseasonably warm spell.

Back in London, the buses are newer and more numerous, I have so far avoided Kens congestion charge, it is still impossible to park and they have yet again reduced the speed limit to 40 mph on the M4 flyover into London. I will be writing to my MP!

Closing Thoughts

What gave me the impetus to go? Well, I remember pouring some water from a fridge and thinking it would be nice to travel around the world in May this year. I was also reading a book called The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, which was a great inspiration. At that moment there was a diaspora of good friends in far off places, with Sydney featuring prominently for several of them.

Some Statistics

During the course of the journey I have stayed in 38 hotels (six of which were Marriotts!), traveled 33,000 miles by air, saw 14 friends from home en route, took 21 flights over the course of 6 and a half months, earned 66,000 BA miles, sent nine travelogues to 230 people on average, despatched 163 postcards, read 42 books, avoided 2 snipers, the SARS epidemic and written 17,495 words of travelogue. Most of which you have been lucky enough to read!

Visa Information

The one year working holiday visa allowed me to stay in Australia over the three month tourist stay, available to all those commonwealth citizens under 30, details of which can be obtained from the excellent Australian Government Immigration website www.immi.gov.au most of which can be done instantly online.

You also need to get a scandalously expensive visa to visit India as a tourist. Unsurprisingly it has to be obtained in person at the consulate, and you will need to present a confirmed ticket at the consulate to get the visa. Allow a week without your passport for processing. All other places mentioned in these notes did not require visas for short tourist trips, if you are an EU National.

It is interesting to note that the only country never administered by the British throughout the whole trip was Bali in Indonesia, as all others were wither part of the British Empire at some time or other, or had administrative arrangements with Great Britain in the past.

Planning

The best resource for finding out how to undertake any journey like this is to ask those who have been, and once you mention you are going on a trip, it is amazing how many people come out of the woodwork and offer you helpful hints.

Obviously, the internet is a critical resource when planning such a journey. You can get some great round the world fares on various carriers through Trailfinders, some starting as low as GBP600 for simple trips.

However, the most flexible ticket, priced dependent on the number of continents you wish to visit, is available from Oneworld (British Airways, Qantas, Aer Lingus, American Airlines, Iberia, Cathay Pacific, Finnair) www.oneworld.com (see the products section for the details and restrictions, or try BA US https://www.britishairways.com/regional/usa/rtw/ site). This was the carrier I used, and allowed me to earn the BA Miles required for my freebie return to Oz in Business Class a near necessity on such a long flight. Do also bear in mind that even in economy your baggage allowance is doubled if you fly through the US to get to OZ, rather than the more direct (and slightly cheaper) Asian routing.

Star Alliance www.staralliance.com also offer a simpler mileage based product, details of which can also be found on their website, but it should be noted that their coverage in Australasia is poor since the collapse of Ansett, the StarAlliance partner in the region.

Books I recommend The Practical Nomad: How to Travel Around The World by Edward Hasbrouck. Although written primarily for the US market, and providing very basic advice for the 85% of Americans who do not own a passport, this is a useful starting block and flags up all the important issues your are going to need to consider.

Hints

The biggest tip is not to try and do too much. You really need always at least a two night stay at any location after all this allows you only one full day of sightseeing, and you also need occasionally to have a day off from travelling, and to allow your brain to absorb all the new sights you have experienced. Allow time for haircuts/down days/writing emails home some days you will just want to stay in so a highly time pressured journey can be a problem.

A triband phone is a necessity for most travellers who go through the US and local pay as you go SIM cards are often available. In Australia it is cheaper to use your mobile to call home than to use it to call a local number.

My Routing

For those of you who missed stages of my journey, the entire principal routing was:

London-Miami-KeyWest-Sarasota-Washington DC-New York City-Los Angeles-Las Vegas-SanFrancisco-Napa Valley-San Diego-Palm Springs-Melbourne-Adelaide-Sydney-Hayman Island-Cairns-Brisbane-Bali-Singapore-Bangkok-Mumbai-Dubai-London-Isle Of Man

Well done if you have managed to read this far this travelogue has been great fun for me to write in parts perhaps a little detailed for some of you, but written mainly as a diary record to myself in years to come. I very much hope you have enjoyed dipping in to parts of my journey, that perhaps it may have inspired you to take a journey of your own, and that if you do decide to take the plunge, these modest jottings will be of use to you.

Bon voyage!

April 2003

If you started this late on in, you can read earlier excerpts here, starting with my Pacific Coast Highway trip.
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