psNew Zealand was also the first country to bring about universal suffrage: some 30 years before women had to ruin a perfectly good horse race in order to bring a nation's attention to their plight. If New Zealand is the young girl with whom you have fallen in love, Australia is the big brother. You know they are related byblood (pace Spencer) but that is the end of any serious similarities to which you are attracted. Australia is big and brash; Australia is overly self-confident; Australia is doing well. But somewhere in Australia there is a serious flaw; I will have to connect it to my general theory of humanity. I don't get it yet but as Hercule Poirot says " I have a little idea.".
Agatha Christie wrote over 70 books in 50 years and I am trying to read them all on this trip - not doing very well at moment - only read 9.
The highlight of trip was catching up with my middle son, Danny. We met in Sydney and then travelled to Cairns together. He is off to Darwin next looking for gainful employment. On the left you can see him and a turtle having a brief encounter at the Great Barrier Reef . Danny is a neat kid: in a roundabout way I sorted out his bad leg (after I almost caused its amputation) and he sorted out my iTunes (from setting up the account to syncing the iPhone and Mac)
and the problems with iMovie. It isn't a proper fix and is probably a problem with Apple. Danny is also a pretty decent pool player. Talking of Apple the first Apple store in the southern hemisphere opened in Sydney 2 days after I arrived there. I have been in some mad crowds on this trip- La U, Boca Juniors, All Blacks- but the crowd at the opening of the Apple store in Sydney was the maddest. The queue started at 0830 two days before the store was to open and I'm told there were 4000 people waiting to go in on Thursday evening at 5.00. I was there but not in line. It was raining and Apple supplied umbrellas for the faithful. I was there the following mor
ning and had the first one-to-one in the southern hemisphere. Five people from their Genius Bar could not help me with my iMovie problem which I have had unexpectedly in the last few months. This interface difficulty (which Danny thinks is caused by an earlier iMovie update of software from Apple ) - the people in the Apple shop had not identified this as a possible cause.
This has stopped me producing any more Shirt of the Villa movies for my adoring (except the clarets) audience. Even though the manager of the Apple store in Sydney was born in Bromsgrove, he couldn't solve the problem either.
It's a sort of Grand Canyon moment seeing the Sydney Harbour Bridge through the canyons of shops formed by George Street. this is the iconic centre of Sydney and it deserves its reputation. In a few days time I will climb it with Danny but seeing it for the first time took my breath away.
The quotation which forms the title of this blog came from a 26-year-old Canadian and I think it sums up my frame of mind at the moment. Being old, I can appreciate prejudice for the first time in my life. The world is made for the young and if you are in their environment then you do experience prejudice akin to racism and sexism. I will return to this later. Sydney and, indeed, most of Australia is very diverse. The dominant groups are Chinese, Japanese and Korean. I had assumed, wrongly, that this was a recent phenomenon but obviouly it goes back 2 centuries to the Gold Rush and the sugar cane farming. Another large ethnic group is the Pacific Islanders; it seems that every bouncer in Sydney was born on some remote island in the Pacific. Everyone seems at ease with this diverse population. The only fly in the ointment ( another metaphor may be more succinct but less appropriate) is the problem of the indigenous Aborigines. These are the dispossessed, the homeless, the vagrants and the beggars who everyone tries to ignore. Australians even find it difficult to talk about the issue. Unlike the Kiwis who have addressed the Maori issue the Aussies do not seem able to face up to it. This is the tragic flaw I referred to earlier.
I manage to get to watch Australia versus China in a World Cup qualifier. Australia lose 1-0 but still go through to the next stage of qualifications. I would now like to digress and begin a description of two important strands of my general theory of relativity: hostel life and dancing. There is a clear hierarchy in round-the-world travellers. I am sure the top 3 levels are occupied by multi-millionaires in private jets, travelling first-class or on cruises. Then there is my domain. I am regarded as a flash-packer because I stay in YHA hostels; there are other hostel chains which are similar such as YMCA and Nomad. We drink in pubs such as the 3 Wise Monkeys and the Trafalgar. Then there is the sole trader hostel where you can share an eight-
bunk dormitory with 15 other people. These hostels are the closest thing in modern times to doss houses; I imagine Rowton House in Birmingham was pretty much like this. The rooms look as though they have been hit by a hurricane with clothes and other personal possessions strewn throughout. In these hostels there are individuals who are staying for free in return for 3 or 4 hours cleaning.
At the bottom of this strata are the free-fooders. In every hostel there is an area set aside for people to leave any spare food they have at the end of their stay. The free-fooders survive on these left-overs - apparently noodles cooked in peanut butter is delicious. At the bottom of the travelling pile are the camper-vanners. These people, most of whom seem to be Scandinavians who indulge in hard dancing which looks to the untrained eye the same as fighting, buy a van anywhere and sell it once their money has run out. They occupy kerb-side positions throughout Australia where they cook exotic meals on their community camp stoves. I'd like to spend a little time talking about dancing. All women dancers at this stage in history are trying to be lap dancers or pole dancers; all men are trying to be Hollywood Red Indian braves dancing around a camp fire and all Scandinavians are fighting on the dance floor. This combination does not lead to dance hall harmony but to Ballroom Blitz - still nobody has died yet. The other combination which irks is the really bad dancer who thinks s/he is a good dancer. This is made worse by the bad dancer being with a good dancer.
The most striking thing about Sydney isn't the bridge or the opera house but the
bus service. The buses run frequently, are cheap and clean and the drivers are courteous, helpful and informative. Because of this human side to the service I think this is best public transport system I've encountered so far. Before leaving Sydney for the Great Barrier Reef I make a nostalgic trip to Blacktown. This is where my family lived for 3 years when we emigrated to Australia almost 50 years ago. I meet a postman who tells me where Bungarribee Road is but he says that there isn't a number 4b - there isn't even a number 4. I remember walking to school from the house down Patrick Street. I get to the junction and am delighted that the house is still there and is now number 170. When we lived there there were only two houses and a shed
but now the whole road is developed. Danny joins me and I show him the place where my formative youth was spent - I am so glad the house is still there. I wish my mother could have seen the photographs I took.
The harbour bridge climb lasting three hours is well worth the effort; the views are magnificant and you get a great sense of
Sydney Horbour and its many coves. It also takes you to The Rocks area of Sydney which is may favourite area with its charming Victorian houses and its many old pubs and bars. At the Bridge I was forced to get out of my sandals for the first time on the trip. This footwear which has been to Alaska and Tierra del Fuego was not considered safe enough to go on the bridge. After the exertion of the climb I visited the Sydney Biennale which is an exhibition of modern art. It is interesting to note that Maurizo Cattelan's dead horse which I first saw in Phoenix over 10 years ago is still causing a fuss.
I managed to watch the World Cup final in a bar in Sydney even though it was on at 4 in the morning of my flight to Cairns. There is something satisfying about seeing Spain win in an Irish bar full of Germans, Irish and Australians - all of whom have varying degrees of hatred for and animosity towards the English.
Danny and I get to Cairns without any fuss and we have a great time there - the highlight of which is the Great Barrier Reef which is certainly one of the 7 natural wonders of the world. In Cairns there is an interesting incident on July 1st which is Canada Day. A congenial and jovial night in the local bar used by Canadians ends in a fight between those who want to sing "La Marseillaise" and those who want to sing "God Save the Queen". Interesting stuff - this nationalism. The sporting highlight of my stay in Cairns is the third match (1-1) in Rugby League in the State of Origin Rugby League series. Queensland beat New South Wales even though NSW had a perfectly good try disallowed in the last 3 minutes. I like the term 'origin': it seems to me much more appropriate than heritage. If you are ever in Cairns make sure you go into the Rattle and Hum toilets- the view from the Gents is magnificent. Obviously I cannot vouch the same for the women's toilet. Cairns is also home of the Goldfish racing world cup. The guy who runs this simple race is very happy with his job which nets (no pun intended) him about AU$200 a night. Punters at the pub buy a goldfish in an auction and the race is on. The owner of the fish keeps the cash raised in the auction. The temporary owner of the winning goldfish wins a prize which has been donated by a local business. Everbody seems happy with the arrangement.
I leave Danny in Cairns to go to Alice Springs and my Northern Territory experience. This experience will include: camping outside in a swag in the NT; seeing Uluru (Ayer's Rock); trekking King's Canyon the confirmation of my views about Australia and the Aborigines. My first night in Alice Springs reminded me of the night I spent in Johannesburg. After 9pm the streets were empty except for groups of Aborigines standing at street corners or sitting under trees. The women wear the traditional aboriginal costume of green and gold tracksuit and check shirt. They are not particularly antagonistic as most of the fights and loud quarrelling are among themselves but the experience itself is quite intimidating. Talking to an Aboriginal social worker the following afternoon, I was told of the many challenges caused by the lost generation programme, alcohol and drugs. Ironically, in the spiriual home of the Aborigines, Uluru, I was able to see another side of this rift in Australian society. At the Uluru Cultural Centre I saw 7 aboriginal women sitting on the floor of the art gallery producing paintings in almost battery-hen conditions. The owners and supervisors of the gallery who were all white whould not tell me what percentage of the paintings price - some of which were selling for AU$5000- went to the artists. My Northern Territory experience was shared with 19 other fellow travellers - all of whom were charming and interesting. On the left you can see our group at the top of King's Canyon.
The Northern Territory is a different country: they still smoke in bars and other public places; they advertise on television of the dangers of sleeping on the road; it is the only place in the world I think with a time change of 30 minutes; at the equivalent of a Young Farmers' Club a bloke (they're all blokes here) sings "Waltzing Matilda" with the backing and rhythm provided by his whip cracking and on my arrival at Alice there is the world cup in camel racing. They have drive-through outdoors or bottle shops. There is a whole new language when it comes to drinking: pots; schooners; midis; big-ones and stubbies. This cannot be real.
The red centre of Australia is spectacular. On the right you see my attempt to
capture this mysticism in iPhoto. Uluru is mystical but sleeping outside in a swag with the Southern Cross and thousands of other stars as your ceiling is magical . At first, I did not believe the guide, Sheldon, who told me that sleeping in a swag was warmer than sleeping in a tent but he was right. I'm going to try and find one when I return to England - and, more importantly, I am going to use it.I return to Sydney at the worst of all possible times - World Youth Day. this involves about 150,000 young catholics turning up in one place every year and bringing their chosen destination to a standstill. The Pope usually joins them and this makes matters worse. The only way to get round the City is to walk - this is OK most of the time but not for the woman from China on my Shuttle Bus who has four suitcases and the closest we can get to her hotel is 800 metres - I help her with her load. I'm so happy I'm travelling light.
If anyone reads this there is a party at The Gate on Friday 25 July from 8.30pm.
Reading The mirror cracked from side to side
Watching Hancock
On iPod Duffy
Published Shirt of the Villa South Pacific within 5 days
