AUSTRALIA, Sydney (written 31st July)
How hard it is to draw myself away from the luxuries of family living once again. Returning to Sydney was like coming home. Another warm welcome from Roger, Joanne, Sam, Alexi and James. They have made me feel so much a part of the family here, my little room was all ready for me and plans were quickly put in place for showing me the famouse Blue Mountains before I galloped off to Melbourne.
This morning I was up bright and early (remarkable considering lack of sleep after the inevitable Saturday night) and gliding along in Roger's cosy car out of Sydney and up into the Mountains. "They are not looking very blue today," lamented Joanne but they looked pretty damn blue to me and quite breathtaking. View points are dotted along the cliffs, jutting out on pinicals over huge valleys and canyons coated in thick bushland and they do indeed have a bluish tinge, a result of the rising vapours from the eucalyptus. The scale is what had me clutching to the railings of my overhang and breathing "wow". The space is truly emmense, over 1,000,000 hectares of sandstone peaks and deep-cut valleys, a proportion of it still unexplored. It makes you feel painfully small. Anyway, we 'did it' in a very civilised way for so cold a day, and with so short a time availble. We drove to the pretty little town of Leura for a delicious brunch and surveyed the Three Sisters from what Joanne assured me was the best vantage point, tourist-free. She was right, the town on the other side was a chaos of tour busses and jostling bodies all struggling to grab a peak. We sailed past happily to more remote cliff-tops and photo opps.
On our way back to Sydney we stopped at the home of late Norman Lindsay an artist, engraver and illustrator of the children's book series "The Magic Pudding" (familier to those growing up in Australia in the middle part of the last century). Along with his children's illustrations he spent most of his time paying a questionable tribute to the female form. Based New South Wales he created quite a storm with his daring potraials of wicked-looking nymphs and strumpets with spikey, deamon-like features, limbs akimbo. His large garden was full of buxom, betailed pan-like figures lurking in the undergrowth and frolicing around his huge Roman aphitheatre-style swimming pool. A workaholic and doubtless impossible man, his sucess could mainly be attributed to by his industrious second wife who got him organised and sold his work. In a moment of wavering wifly loyalty, she scarpered to America with a trunk load of his best pieces. On the train the box in which there were stowed caught fire. When faced with the singed images, the train porters where so horrifed that such 'filth' could be transported into their country that the merely fed the flames leaving nothing but a pile of ashes and a rather sheepish Mrs Lindsay who returned to Australia and broke the news to her husband.
"Nevermind," he said "I'll just have to start again." This, I think, goes to show a degree of patience that is bordering on saintly and must make up for his tricky artistic temprement. He painted well into his 80s.
So another wonderful week in Sydney...
And now off to Melbourne to lounge in arty cafes and catch up with Adam and Charley.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
AUSTRALIA, Queensland - New South Wales (see entry below for Fraser Island)
Back in Brizzy I was met off the bus bronzed and triumphant by Jonathan who took me out for a lunch of Vietnamese noodle soup, very welcome after 3 days of beef. I spent my last night in Bris-Vagas in a most bohemim way: Back in Jonathan's friend Don's Queenslander huddled in a corner by a heater sipping tea and watching the 'boys' play a very serious and totally incomprehensible game of cards.
And then farewell Queensland. Despite all my little quibbles with it I was sad to leave. I have had a great few weeks. It was lovely to spend time with my Grandfather and Kathy, who has had to put up with a constant stream of people traipsing through on a daily basis and has produced some wonderful meals, oh how I shall miss home cooking when I am back on the road again... Jeanie organised us all so well, I loved spending time with Jordie and Briony and it was great to see all three brothers: Jamie, Jonathan and Tim together for a change. Geography dictates that it was a rare family reunion.
My Grandfather and Kathy refused to let me take a bus into town with my heavy bag and Kathy kindly escorted me to the bus station in a taxi. We grabbed a quick coffee, snatching a brief moment to have a good chat before I charged off down the coast. I shall miss Mount Ommaney, not to mention the Centenary Shopping Centre...
Next stop: Byron Bay. I followed two fellow travellers to a beautiful guesthouse near the centre of town with small immaculate rooms and set off to see Australia's most easterly point, Cape Byron. In the golden evening light we climbed the headland and reached the summit and lighthouse just as the sun was setting. Byron Bay is a lovely stretch of beach and from our view point we surveyed the darkening swells of the ocean, the keen surfers little black dots amongst the waves and felt glad to be up on the hillside awash with orange sunlight absorbing the final warmth before the sun, and heat, vanished. Feeling extremely pleased with ourselves we descended back into town to sample a touch of the famous Byron nightlife. The town itself isn't pretty, just another beach town really but without the gaudy coloured high-rises of Surfer's Paradise and the Gold Coast and it has a pleasant laid-back feel. As for the evening's entertainments, well that was watching the scantily-clad girls strut and boys pose with decreasing finesse as the alcohol took control of their limbs and laughed at them from a safe distance.
I had been trying to meet up with Jazz so after a day pottering about in Byron and eating yummy sushi I was on a night bus headed for Foster, a coastal town a few hours north of Sydney where Jazz was lodged with a troublesome if charming 19 year old from Fulham...
Back in Brizzy I was met off the bus bronzed and triumphant by Jonathan who took me out for a lunch of Vietnamese noodle soup, very welcome after 3 days of beef. I spent my last night in Bris-Vagas in a most bohemim way: Back in Jonathan's friend Don's Queenslander huddled in a corner by a heater sipping tea and watching the 'boys' play a very serious and totally incomprehensible game of cards.
And then farewell Queensland. Despite all my little quibbles with it I was sad to leave. I have had a great few weeks. It was lovely to spend time with my Grandfather and Kathy, who has had to put up with a constant stream of people traipsing through on a daily basis and has produced some wonderful meals, oh how I shall miss home cooking when I am back on the road again... Jeanie organised us all so well, I loved spending time with Jordie and Briony and it was great to see all three brothers: Jamie, Jonathan and Tim together for a change. Geography dictates that it was a rare family reunion.
My Grandfather and Kathy refused to let me take a bus into town with my heavy bag and Kathy kindly escorted me to the bus station in a taxi. We grabbed a quick coffee, snatching a brief moment to have a good chat before I charged off down the coast. I shall miss Mount Ommaney, not to mention the Centenary Shopping Centre...
Next stop: Byron Bay. I followed two fellow travellers to a beautiful guesthouse near the centre of town with small immaculate rooms and set off to see Australia's most easterly point, Cape Byron. In the golden evening light we climbed the headland and reached the summit and lighthouse just as the sun was setting. Byron Bay is a lovely stretch of beach and from our view point we surveyed the darkening swells of the ocean, the keen surfers little black dots amongst the waves and felt glad to be up on the hillside awash with orange sunlight absorbing the final warmth before the sun, and heat, vanished. Feeling extremely pleased with ourselves we descended back into town to sample a touch of the famous Byron nightlife. The town itself isn't pretty, just another beach town really but without the gaudy coloured high-rises of Surfer's Paradise and the Gold Coast and it has a pleasant laid-back feel. As for the evening's entertainments, well that was watching the scantily-clad girls strut and boys pose with decreasing finesse as the alcohol took control of their limbs and laughed at them from a safe distance.
I had been trying to meet up with Jazz so after a day pottering about in Byron and eating yummy sushi I was on a night bus headed for Foster, a coastal town a few hours north of Sydney where Jazz was lodged with a troublesome if charming 19 year old from Fulham...
Monday, July 23, 2007
AUSTRALIA, Qeensland//Fraser Island 24th July
"Ok guys, don't drive into the ocean and don't feed the dingos. See you in three days"
One minute I am at a punk gig with my 3 uncles and a whole crew of aging rockers, (giggling at the bouncing bald patches of the fans as they bounced up and down in vigorous appreciation of The Saints) the next I am in a bright pink 4x4 with 6 people I've just met bouncing along a sandy track on the world's largest sand dune.
After a couple of weeks of hard core 'family stuff' and the luxury of not having to make any decisions I found myself once again adrift and directionless with only me as a guide. We had a lovely final dinner all together, Kathy cooking up quite a storm for the masses, and everyone began to scatter. My parents to Japan, Tim soon to Beijing, it was time too for me to get back on the road again.
With a few days to kill before I was due back to Sydney I thought I'd follow the enthusiastic recommendations and head over to Fraser Island. Within minutes of my arrival at Hervey Bay I had been recruited to fill the last place in a jeep that was to leave the following morning. Clutching our happy hour 'stubbies' we were all introduced, given a safety briefing, focusing mainly on the disadvantages of damaging the 4x4, and told to wrap up warm because it was going to be freezing.
Bright and early the following morning we elected a driver, piled in and set off for the ferry via a stop at the supermarket to stock up on 3 days worth of food and (yes of course) booze.
3 Koreans, 3 Germans, 2 Irish, 2 Canadians, 1 Italian, 1 American 1 girl from Taiwan and moi. Gears grinding we set off bunny-hopping along the narrow sandy tracks through the woodlanded interior of Fraser Island.
Our first day took us to Lake Wabby. Still, green waters, almost deserted, it was enclosed with forest on one side but had steep sand dunes sweeping down to its banks on the other, down which, if you were not afraid of the cold, could be sprinted to land you with a splash in the otherwise still, crocodile free (I'm promised) water. I was content to take photos and shout encouragement. Tides dictated much of our movements so we set off in good time to reach our camping spot in plenty of time and avoid attempting to erect tents in the sudden darkness that descended at 6.00. The drive to our campsite along the beach was across beautiful wet sands reflecting a sparkling mauve sunset, not surprisingly we set up tents feeling very jovial and a night of festivities commenced...
After a bitterly cold night (thank God I brought 2 sleeping bags) we were up early with the sun in order to pack up and get to the Champagne Pools - large rock pools up the coast - before the tide rose any further and we were stuck for the day. We climbed up Indian Head overlooking the sea and watched dolphins and whales cavorting in the serf. No sharks spotted but we had been assured that plenty were around and the water was very much no-go. So we frolicked (briefly) in the shark-free Champagne Pools and caught some rays before mosying back down the coast stopping to inspect the remains of a 70 year old abandoned ship and multicoloured sand canyons.
We had camping down to a fine art by now and we were set up and fed much more efficiently than the previous night. We were, however, camped in a lonelier spot and our cooking smells attracted some unwelcome guests. I am not proud to reveal that, when it comes to dingos, I am something of a wimp. When the boys were playing football and a hungry female came trotting into camp I am afraid that me and another girl sprang behind the jeep and cowered as the braver girls shooed it away. Throughout the night they became bolder and it took more and more to frighten them off although the camp was then manned by brave boys, happy to demonstrate their heroism.
We spent our final hours on Fraser Island lying on the banks of stunning Lake Mackenzie a huge, glass-like, blue water lake surrounded by fine white sand. Inspired by a tourist brochure we spent an entertaining hour building a cross-dressing sandman called Fred and then spread ourselves on the sand to luxuriate in the sunshine before it was time to catch the ferry back to the mainland.
We returned to our hostel elated and one piece, much relieved to find that we had not done any damage to the 4x4s and delighted to all pile into one rowdy dorm, have the hot showers we'd been fantasising about sleep in real beds under blankets. A wonderful 3 days.
"Ok guys, don't drive into the ocean and don't feed the dingos. See you in three days"
One minute I am at a punk gig with my 3 uncles and a whole crew of aging rockers, (giggling at the bouncing bald patches of the fans as they bounced up and down in vigorous appreciation of The Saints) the next I am in a bright pink 4x4 with 6 people I've just met bouncing along a sandy track on the world's largest sand dune.
After a couple of weeks of hard core 'family stuff' and the luxury of not having to make any decisions I found myself once again adrift and directionless with only me as a guide. We had a lovely final dinner all together, Kathy cooking up quite a storm for the masses, and everyone began to scatter. My parents to Japan, Tim soon to Beijing, it was time too for me to get back on the road again.
With a few days to kill before I was due back to Sydney I thought I'd follow the enthusiastic recommendations and head over to Fraser Island. Within minutes of my arrival at Hervey Bay I had been recruited to fill the last place in a jeep that was to leave the following morning. Clutching our happy hour 'stubbies' we were all introduced, given a safety briefing, focusing mainly on the disadvantages of damaging the 4x4, and told to wrap up warm because it was going to be freezing.
Bright and early the following morning we elected a driver, piled in and set off for the ferry via a stop at the supermarket to stock up on 3 days worth of food and (yes of course) booze.
3 Koreans, 3 Germans, 2 Irish, 2 Canadians, 1 Italian, 1 American 1 girl from Taiwan and moi. Gears grinding we set off bunny-hopping along the narrow sandy tracks through the woodlanded interior of Fraser Island.
Our first day took us to Lake Wabby. Still, green waters, almost deserted, it was enclosed with forest on one side but had steep sand dunes sweeping down to its banks on the other, down which, if you were not afraid of the cold, could be sprinted to land you with a splash in the otherwise still, crocodile free (I'm promised) water. I was content to take photos and shout encouragement. Tides dictated much of our movements so we set off in good time to reach our camping spot in plenty of time and avoid attempting to erect tents in the sudden darkness that descended at 6.00. The drive to our campsite along the beach was across beautiful wet sands reflecting a sparkling mauve sunset, not surprisingly we set up tents feeling very jovial and a night of festivities commenced...
After a bitterly cold night (thank God I brought 2 sleeping bags) we were up early with the sun in order to pack up and get to the Champagne Pools - large rock pools up the coast - before the tide rose any further and we were stuck for the day. We climbed up Indian Head overlooking the sea and watched dolphins and whales cavorting in the serf. No sharks spotted but we had been assured that plenty were around and the water was very much no-go. So we frolicked (briefly) in the shark-free Champagne Pools and caught some rays before mosying back down the coast stopping to inspect the remains of a 70 year old abandoned ship and multicoloured sand canyons.
We had camping down to a fine art by now and we were set up and fed much more efficiently than the previous night. We were, however, camped in a lonelier spot and our cooking smells attracted some unwelcome guests. I am not proud to reveal that, when it comes to dingos, I am something of a wimp. When the boys were playing football and a hungry female came trotting into camp I am afraid that me and another girl sprang behind the jeep and cowered as the braver girls shooed it away. Throughout the night they became bolder and it took more and more to frighten them off although the camp was then manned by brave boys, happy to demonstrate their heroism.
We spent our final hours on Fraser Island lying on the banks of stunning Lake Mackenzie a huge, glass-like, blue water lake surrounded by fine white sand. Inspired by a tourist brochure we spent an entertaining hour building a cross-dressing sandman called Fred and then spread ourselves on the sand to luxuriate in the sunshine before it was time to catch the ferry back to the mainland.
We returned to our hostel elated and one piece, much relieved to find that we had not done any damage to the 4x4s and delighted to all pile into one rowdy dorm, have the hot showers we'd been fantasising about sleep in real beds under blankets. A wonderful 3 days.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
AUSTRALIA, Brisbane/Queensland 11th July
I do wonder who it was who 1st looked out over the untamed mass of Australian bush, scorched by an unforgiving sun, ravished by bush fires, kangaroos bounding about in the foreground and thought to himself: "What I really feel like right now is a Devonshire Tea."
Well someone certainly thought it and it has caught on like, well,a bush fire. Picturesque view points around the Glasshouse mountains are, it would seem, incomplete without one and you just make damn sure that you sit nicely at the table and don't even think about trying to wander off in the direction of the wild kangaroos, to see them from a different perspective, you will get shouted at. And it is not just cream teas but Aunty Maureen's Fudge and Hot Meat Pies, their incongruity rendering them absurd but also rather endearing. Like wandering back into an Enid Blyton novel that's found itself in rather a surprising landscape.
All this I observed from the back seat of our hire car as we pootled up towards the fashionable beach town of Noosa, in a caravan of family-laden vehicles. In one car: my father driving, Jeannie, my oldest uncle Jamie's wife directing and me in the back with my 12 year old cousin Briony both plugged in and enjoying the ride. In the other car, leading the way is my uncle Jamie, my Grandfather, my mother and 14 year old cousin Jordie who is very certain which side of the back seat is his and will not be moved. In this merry manner we spent a happy day seeing some of the northern Queensland coastline. I glimpsed a few of the surviving 'Queenslanders' (fine wooden houses on stilts with beautiful wide verandas) and admired the gorgeous sweeping white-sanded Pacific beaches whilst struggling to ignore the concrete of the beach-side towns and villages looming over us which destroyed the effect somewhat. Surf culture has its draw-backs.
Back to Brisbane. My Sydney friends, a little dismissively, refer to Brisbane as "Bris-Vegas" due to its reputation for being tacky and full of, well, not much. My middle uncle Jonathan has done his damnedest to disprove this theory, displaying a patriotism that I found surprising for one who spends most of his time living in Valencia. After coffee at the 'bohemian West End' strolling around the pedestrianised shopping areas Down Town, tea in a beautiful old Queenslander, Saturday morning breakfast in the trendy Valley and a day exploring the Art Galleries of the smartly set out South Bank I am in a position to argue. To an extent.
The major downside, as far as I can see, to Brisbane is the manner in which it has been developed. Town planning failed tragically and the result is that the old and new live together awkwardly, unlike Sydney where the two have been married together nicely. Like an American town, Brisbane has sprawled, mile after mile of suburbs, wide, low rise concrete units, industrial estates, shopping centres and drive throughs. Amoungst this rubble beautiful streets containing surving Queenslanders cower, increasingly boxed in by the incessant development and throwing up of apartment blocks obscuring a once beautiful view of the river, the best view of which is from a highway which they have seen fit to build along its banks.
Having said all of that, however, I have been lucky enough to see some great parts of Brizzy too. The city centre has a nice buzz to it and the pleasing atmostphere of a city on the up. The South Bank has been very neatly put together and houses some good galleries. The Valley on a Saturday was heaving with young hungover folk catching up over eggs and bacon and perusing the markets in preparation for a night out at one of the many clubs and bars in the area. There is fun to be had, culture to be absorbed and to top it all off I am off to a Punk gig with Jonathan and his ageing rocker buddies in the campus of the Queensland University in a week. That will gather me some ammo for the Sydneyites... Perhaps.
Bisbane also has the huge advantage of being where my family are and there is a lot to be said for that. A family "barbie in the backyard" (for the real Ozzy 'experience') excursions with Jonathan, a good catch up with my now 90 year old Grandfather, and a chance to get to know my little cousins better. My parents and I have also been having some great evenings in in our little 'serviced apartment' eating much-missed home-cooked food and catching up properly before they head off to Japan (and typhoons... eek).
We had a family jaunt up to O'Rilies in the mountains along the south coast of Queensland over the weekend. Another spectacular drive through vast, sun-scorched plains, stunning views of golden valleys and into dense forest as we climbed.
An evening tree-top walk in the crisp, icy air on arrival and a beautiful sunset viewed from Jamie and Jeanie's jungle lodge sitting room with panoramic views (to be enjoyed inside sipping wine in warmth and comfort).
The following day I was straining at the leash to explore more jungle and find some waterfalls (can't resist them) so I set out with Jeanie, Jamie, Briony, Jordie, Jonathan and Dad as far as the 1st waterfall where a good-natured Jonathn and I split from the collective and embarked on an 18km hike. After Kao Sok the going was a doddle, clear paths, no leaches and waterfalls at every step, I counted 11 so even I couldn't miss them. We charged around and managed to be back in time for tea. All gathered again, Jonathan slunk off to catch his breath (discreetly, not one to outdone by his little niece) and the rest of us compared notes as we struggled to salvage cake and mini meat pies from the jaws of Jordie who gathers, devours and, if necessary, fights for food with the determination common to 14 year old boys mid growth-spurt.
Once again we huddled in front of the fire and enjoyed another sunset and cheerful baramundi dinner in celebration of Dad's exam results.
Then goodbye O'Rilies and off in different directions. One car to the airport to meet youngest uncle Tim off his flight from Beijing, the other home via Tamborine Mountain and the other car, including me, off to Dream World.
Briony was kind enough to include me in her birthday treat to the vast theme park so after a moderate breakfast (terrified about it reappearing) we drove off in the direction of an enormous tower which loomed over the motorway growing alarmly as we approached...
I now know how it feels to plummet 39 storeys and now understand the eerie silence in which its passengers ride the Giant Drop. you leave your scream at the top and are capable of not much more thn a whimper until you reach the bottom and get that gratifying rush of adrenline when you discover that you have survived after all. Most exhilerating. We had a great time being thrown around, turned upside down and being shot out of things at insane speeds and returned to the Family Fold full of excitment and gabbering about our adventures, to which our good natured family listend without comprehension.
I do wonder who it was who 1st looked out over the untamed mass of Australian bush, scorched by an unforgiving sun, ravished by bush fires, kangaroos bounding about in the foreground and thought to himself: "What I really feel like right now is a Devonshire Tea."
Well someone certainly thought it and it has caught on like, well,a bush fire. Picturesque view points around the Glasshouse mountains are, it would seem, incomplete without one and you just make damn sure that you sit nicely at the table and don't even think about trying to wander off in the direction of the wild kangaroos, to see them from a different perspective, you will get shouted at. And it is not just cream teas but Aunty Maureen's Fudge and Hot Meat Pies, their incongruity rendering them absurd but also rather endearing. Like wandering back into an Enid Blyton novel that's found itself in rather a surprising landscape.
All this I observed from the back seat of our hire car as we pootled up towards the fashionable beach town of Noosa, in a caravan of family-laden vehicles. In one car: my father driving, Jeannie, my oldest uncle Jamie's wife directing and me in the back with my 12 year old cousin Briony both plugged in and enjoying the ride. In the other car, leading the way is my uncle Jamie, my Grandfather, my mother and 14 year old cousin Jordie who is very certain which side of the back seat is his and will not be moved. In this merry manner we spent a happy day seeing some of the northern Queensland coastline. I glimpsed a few of the surviving 'Queenslanders' (fine wooden houses on stilts with beautiful wide verandas) and admired the gorgeous sweeping white-sanded Pacific beaches whilst struggling to ignore the concrete of the beach-side towns and villages looming over us which destroyed the effect somewhat. Surf culture has its draw-backs.
Back to Brisbane. My Sydney friends, a little dismissively, refer to Brisbane as "Bris-Vegas" due to its reputation for being tacky and full of, well, not much. My middle uncle Jonathan has done his damnedest to disprove this theory, displaying a patriotism that I found surprising for one who spends most of his time living in Valencia. After coffee at the 'bohemian West End' strolling around the pedestrianised shopping areas Down Town, tea in a beautiful old Queenslander, Saturday morning breakfast in the trendy Valley and a day exploring the Art Galleries of the smartly set out South Bank I am in a position to argue. To an extent.
The major downside, as far as I can see, to Brisbane is the manner in which it has been developed. Town planning failed tragically and the result is that the old and new live together awkwardly, unlike Sydney where the two have been married together nicely. Like an American town, Brisbane has sprawled, mile after mile of suburbs, wide, low rise concrete units, industrial estates, shopping centres and drive throughs. Amoungst this rubble beautiful streets containing surving Queenslanders cower, increasingly boxed in by the incessant development and throwing up of apartment blocks obscuring a once beautiful view of the river, the best view of which is from a highway which they have seen fit to build along its banks.
Having said all of that, however, I have been lucky enough to see some great parts of Brizzy too. The city centre has a nice buzz to it and the pleasing atmostphere of a city on the up. The South Bank has been very neatly put together and houses some good galleries. The Valley on a Saturday was heaving with young hungover folk catching up over eggs and bacon and perusing the markets in preparation for a night out at one of the many clubs and bars in the area. There is fun to be had, culture to be absorbed and to top it all off I am off to a Punk gig with Jonathan and his ageing rocker buddies in the campus of the Queensland University in a week. That will gather me some ammo for the Sydneyites... Perhaps.
Bisbane also has the huge advantage of being where my family are and there is a lot to be said for that. A family "barbie in the backyard" (for the real Ozzy 'experience') excursions with Jonathan, a good catch up with my now 90 year old Grandfather, and a chance to get to know my little cousins better. My parents and I have also been having some great evenings in in our little 'serviced apartment' eating much-missed home-cooked food and catching up properly before they head off to Japan (and typhoons... eek).
We had a family jaunt up to O'Rilies in the mountains along the south coast of Queensland over the weekend. Another spectacular drive through vast, sun-scorched plains, stunning views of golden valleys and into dense forest as we climbed.
An evening tree-top walk in the crisp, icy air on arrival and a beautiful sunset viewed from Jamie and Jeanie's jungle lodge sitting room with panoramic views (to be enjoyed inside sipping wine in warmth and comfort).
The following day I was straining at the leash to explore more jungle and find some waterfalls (can't resist them) so I set out with Jeanie, Jamie, Briony, Jordie, Jonathan and Dad as far as the 1st waterfall where a good-natured Jonathn and I split from the collective and embarked on an 18km hike. After Kao Sok the going was a doddle, clear paths, no leaches and waterfalls at every step, I counted 11 so even I couldn't miss them. We charged around and managed to be back in time for tea. All gathered again, Jonathan slunk off to catch his breath (discreetly, not one to outdone by his little niece) and the rest of us compared notes as we struggled to salvage cake and mini meat pies from the jaws of Jordie who gathers, devours and, if necessary, fights for food with the determination common to 14 year old boys mid growth-spurt.
Once again we huddled in front of the fire and enjoyed another sunset and cheerful baramundi dinner in celebration of Dad's exam results.
Then goodbye O'Rilies and off in different directions. One car to the airport to meet youngest uncle Tim off his flight from Beijing, the other home via Tamborine Mountain and the other car, including me, off to Dream World.
Briony was kind enough to include me in her birthday treat to the vast theme park so after a moderate breakfast (terrified about it reappearing) we drove off in the direction of an enormous tower which loomed over the motorway growing alarmly as we approached...
I now know how it feels to plummet 39 storeys and now understand the eerie silence in which its passengers ride the Giant Drop. you leave your scream at the top and are capable of not much more thn a whimper until you reach the bottom and get that gratifying rush of adrenline when you discover that you have survived after all. Most exhilerating. We had a great time being thrown around, turned upside down and being shot out of things at insane speeds and returned to the Family Fold full of excitment and gabbering about our adventures, to which our good natured family listend without comprehension.
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