299 – 315. More Books and Films

I really can’t believe that it’s come to this but since the timetable came out for applications and interviews for next years intake of doctors to NHS training posts I’ve had to change my flights, head home earlier and cancel my trip round Indo China. All in all quite disappointing. Therefore, trying to complete the 365 will be nigh on impossible without the addition of mundane posts like these. How the hell am I supposed to write a novel out of this crap subject matter???

More Films

299. The Prestige
300. The Illusionist
301. Kenny
302. The Pick of Destiny
303. Pan’s Labyrinth
304. Hannibal Rising
305. The Kingdom
306. Superbad
307. The Protector
308. Resident Evil: Extinction
309. Michael Clayton
310. Zodiac
311. Notes on a Scandal
312. Smokin’ Aces
313. Rush Hour 3

More Books

314. Borkmann’s Point – Hakan Nesser
315. Anansi Boys – Neil Gaiman

298. Pilates

Well this is another one for the book. Since I had my hypnosis sessions I seem to have opened up to infinite possibilities – well perhaps not infinite but I have been trying a few other things that I thought were nonsense like yoga.

Anyway, I went to a Pilates class with Isla the other night and wasn’t sure what to expect – more super stretch people but with a bit more muscle that Sting. At first I thought I was on the right track as when we arrived as there was a bloke in the lobby wearing nothing but a pair of tight shorts and a nipple ring all bleach blonde and abs. Turns out he was from the crazy Hatha Yoga class that was on before ours which can only be described as an Indian form of break dancing which is done at 38 degrees. Apparently people faint and pass out in that class due to its extreme nature.

Thankfully “Mark” had just finished taking the Hatha class and the tiny lithe form that is Vanessa was teaching our class. It was actually great fun and it moved with a grace and fluidity from one position to the next that I found easy to follow without becoming the tangled mess that I was during my last yoga class. Pilates appears to be more up my street and I did find all my “core” muscles ached in a good way the following morning.

Will I go back? Well my friend Pete is always raving about Pilates and I can see why. I can imagine a few months of it would work wonders for core strength and posture. So yes I think I will.

296 and 297. Moroccan Food and Villa Maria Merlot 2006

Thanks to my roster we never have time off together and that has been one of the underlying issues of the year. In fact, who am I trying to kid? It’s been the most annoying and quality-time-destroying problems that we’ve faced since we left Scotland. That said, when we do have spare time together we try to use it to the fullest and it just so happened that we were both off last Saturday night (although I’d already worked 10 hours earlier that day!) and Isla had been recommended a Moroccan restaurant in the city and made a booking so in eager anticipation of what they’d have on the menu we trained out to Central Station and walked the short distance into Surrey Hills.

It took a while to find Souk in the City but as soon as we walked in we were glad we’d made the effort. The décor was incredible for such a small place and they’d managed to give is a real north African feel via the stencilled and fenestrated screens, tope and grey colour schemes, abundance of cushions and painstakingly detailed glasses, lanterns and borders. The lighting set an atmospheric tone reflected in the sublime Moroccan background muzak and when we sat down one of the waiters came over and showered us with rose petals whilst saying “Welcome to my land.”

The menu was presented to us and even though there were only about 6 starters and the same number of mains it was almost impossible to choose as everything looked phenomenal. In the end we shared a spinach, onion and olive dip with hot bread and a filo pastry parcel stuffed with chicken and nuts. For mains Isla had divine spiced chicken with apples, figs and pear and I had the slow roasted Souk’s Lamb which fell off the bone and melted in the mouth and was served with fragrant rice and roasted apricots.

We washed it all down with the overly fruity but surprisingly light Merlot from New Zealand and despite our better judgement we opted for dessert. We split a crème brulee which was topped with pistachio nuts and it was amazing. Finally we had some Moroccan mint tea that the waiter poured from about a metre from the silver tea pot into the delicate tea glasses. It was delicious and smooth and since I’m not a tea drinker I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. A great meal and brilliant service – I’ll definitely be going back.

295. The Hayden Orpheum

England had just lost to South Africa in the Rugby World Cup Final and I’d been up since 4am to catch it live on TV. It seems that almost every international sporting tournament is held in a different time zone and that’s something that Australians hate. Oh well, at least they can watch the Beijing Olympics at a reasonable time.

Anyway, I was knackered but since the sun had started to blaze through the living room window and the Channel Ten weatherman promised another 30C day, I thought that trying to get a couple of hours sleep now would be difficult and pointless. I wasn’t in the mood to go to the beach and seeing me settle down with my laptop for a World of Warcraft session, Isla suggested that at the very least we go out to the cinema.

I thought that sounded fair enough but instead of going to the usual run of the mill place up in Chatswood she informed me that we would be visiting the Orpheum in Cremorne instead. She’d been raving about this place since about a month after our arrival in Oz but I’d never managed to get myself down to that neck of the woods for the purposed of watching a film.

OK, so there’s nothing new about seeing a movie at the cinema but this place was a bit different to your average Odeon. It was originally opened in 1935 and at the time was supposed to be one of the best places in Australia to see the “Talkies”. It fell into disrepair later in the century which I guess was common everywhere and anyone that ever visited the old ABC Cinema on Sauchiehall St knows what I’m talking about. However, a philanthropist called Mike Walsh OBE (strange last name that – Obe! Don’t know why it’s always in upper case!) refurbished the whole place in 1987 to look the original cinema.

If you like your art deco then this place is heaven. The colours, fittings and lighting make you feel like you’re in the 1930’s or 40’s and the even the “Candy Bar” and the ushers outfits are designed in a way that lends itself to making you think you’re an extra in Pearl Harbour. Perhaps that’s why we were the youngest people in there and there was probably and average age of 78. Actually, I was sure we wouldn’t get in because we didn’t have a purple rinse or a OAP bus pass.

I have to say that I thought it was all a bit of a gimmick. I go to the cinema for ultra-comfy chairs, massive screens and surround sound, and if I’m feeling a bit naughty, then some pick and mix. This joint had none of that and that’s when I realise why all it’s patrons are a mosquito’s ball-hair off pushing up daisies – they weren’t there for the film, they were there to be reminded of “the good old days” when there were nowt but trees!

I wonder if I’ll be like that when I’m older? Will I purposefully go to the run down UCG Cinema which doesn’t have “full-immersion retinal implant vision” and “direct channel cochlear 9.1 intra-aural stereo”? And will I say things like “You know, popcorn used to be made of real corn,” and “do you remember that drink called Pepsi?”

294. Yoga

I don’t really know how it happened but Isla talked me into going to a yoga class with her last night. I don’t really know what I expected – perhaps a cross between Sting and his tantric nonsense and Dhalsim the super stretchy guy from Streetfighter II.

The next hour was spent with me contorting myself into crazy positions while trying not to slide around the mat due to the sweat that was lashing off me. I was totally useless at it. I had difficulty sitting on my heels for any length of time and it was almost impossible for me to then lean backwards and start thrusting my abdomen forwards. Also being on all fours and raising the opposite arm and leg off the ground was purely comical and I spent half my time trying not to laugh and the other half trying not to fall over.

It all came to a head at the end though when I was curled up in a ball face down while Isla lay on my back crushing me into the ground which resulted in me using fibre of my body to try and contain the fart that was desperate to escape. “What are you laughing at? Take it seriously will you!” was answered with “I just can’t help it! Haha. Sorry. No really, I’m sorry!”

Luckily the badness didn’t make an appearance until we left the building.

293. Cocktails in the Shangri La Hotel

One of my work mates had just been offered a place on a GP training scheme which is the career avenue he wanted to go down. Unfortunately the program was in Newcastle so he was leaving the Sydney area. A group of us met up with him in the Louenbrau Bar in the Rocks for a couple of goodbye drinks but it was packed and when a group of drunken blokes in German fancy dress turned up we decided to leave.

We stood in the street outside and contemplated where to go next then like a shining beacon in the beer-drought darkness the Shangri La Hotel’s yellow rooftop sign called us in its direction. We had been meaning to have a drink in there for ages as every guide book on the planet mentions it and the views that Altitude Bar on the 36th floor affords its patrons.

We were not to be disappointed. The sights of Sydney from that height and at that time of night were beautiful and worth the 20 minute wait for a table in the main bar. The cocktails were also incredible but at a cost of $20 each we could only afford the one so the night came to a premature end and we all headed home.

284 - 292. Perth

When I told my work colleagues that I was going to be spending a few days in Perth two very different groups became apparent very quickly. The first group was the “I’ve never been to Western Australia” group and the second group was the “Perth is a great city” contingent. After my trip there I began to wonder what happened to the elusive third group – the “Perth is the most boring and pointless city on the planet” group. I don’t mean to upset the people who live there or those whom originate from the WA state capital but it really was a waste of 4 days. We should have gone to Alice Springs and seen Uluru or travelled to Darwin and seen Kakadu National Park.

Unfortunately, hind sight is always 20/20 (or 6/6 as it should be called these days!) and, without any reason not to, we boarded the Virgin Blue 284. Flight from Melbourne to Perth. The flight was long and dull and once again I was amazed at the extent of this massive country – flying for over 4 hours and still not leaving its shores.

As soon as I got off the plane my heckles went up and my instincts told me I wasn’t going to like this place. After checking in to our hostel and walking about the city for a couple of hours my gut feelings were confirmed.

My first impression of the place was that it was very small. There were hardly any buildings and the ones that were there all seemed under construction. The constant hammering and drilling became really quite annoying especially since the builders all started at about 5am and there was a construction site right outside our hostel. The skyline was uninspiring and with the exception of the ultra-modern Bell Tower it was completely unremarkable. The moderately attractive Swan River that runs through the city was underused and the whole esplanade was a 250 metre wide barren belt that seemingly had no purpose but the resultant effect was that waterfront buildings were a quarter kilometre away from the river.

Perhaps my viewpoint is skewed from my experiences of Sydney but the following is a few observations that I gathered on the first day and stuck with me during the remainder of our trip. Firstly, the town (because let’s face it, it’s not a proper city) is very seedy and the population has more than its fair share of what can only be called Rednecks. The seediness was rubbed in when a female junkie, clearly high, came up to me in the street and asked for $2. When I said no and walked on she started screaming “Please come home with me!” It could have been the easiest pull I’ve ever had but the sores on her face and her moustache as well as the stain-ridden velour red track suit put me off a little.

We also noticed that the fashions in Perth were quite backwards. Many of the kids were wearing clothes that people would have had second thoughts about in the 80’s and the hair styles were all mullets and big hair. I suppose being the most isolated city in the world they should be forgiven for being behind the times. There were lots of groups of thugs and gaggles of young girls and they all sported the most amount of acne I’ve ever seen. Also there wasn’t a Gaussian distribution of weight – just size 00 skinny or morbidly obese. Several Perth-folk (I’m not sure what they are called but famous people from Perth are known as “Perthinalities”) were clearly mutated from all the in-breeding and to say that the population was ugly was the understatement of the millennia.

Feeling quite down-heartened we went to the tourist info place and booked ourselves on the first trip out of town. This happened to be leaving the next morning and consisted of a ferry ride down the Swan and out to 285. Rottnest Island where we would pick up a couple of bikes and cycle the 27km round the island.

It took about 1 hour 45 minutes to get there from Perth and when we got off the boat I was surprised to see that there was almost no cars and a Beijing quantity of bicycles. There was a small resort-style village at the pier unnervingly called “The Settlement” which contained a couple of shops, bars and restaurants. It was also were the bike rental place was and we headed straight there. My Trek weighs about 8kg so I was a tad disappointed when the rental assistant wheeled over a ten-tonne rust coated penny-farthing. Isla’s was even worse but she didn’t seem to notice as she was too delighted with the fact hers had a big “fat bum seat” which was all she really wanted from her rental.

After picking up some water and sandwiches we headed out onto the road. It only took us about 2 and a half hours to complete the circuit including stops and the scenery was really quite pretty. There were several coves with white sandy beaches and turquoise waters and had we had more time it would have been great to stop at one of them for a quick plunge – especially since the sun was high in the clear sky providing a warm 25C.

The ferry back to Perth was at 4pm and we returned from the cycle by 3pm so we had time for a well deserved beverage in one of the pier-side bars. Rottnest got its name due to the Quokkas that live there. They essentially look live massive rats, hence “rats nest” and are protected so have become very brazen and can be found wandering around the bins and streets. We even saw one in the bar and when I told one of the nurses at work that I’d been to Rottnest she said, “Did you play Quokka-soccer?”

The ferry ride out of Perth had been quite dull with the exception of a few whale sightings but the way back was dramatically different. It was dusk for most of it and the Swan River looked beautiful. There were people wind-surfing in amongst the plethora of kite-boarders and with the sun setting behind them it looked very surreal. Also, remarkably close to the city, I saw a pod of dolphins playing in the murky water and they seemed oblivions to the kayaker who was floating in close proximity watching their antics.

When we left the terminal we noticed a group of large yellow and blue tents on the grassy esplanade and went to investigate. It turned out that 286. Cirque du Soleil were in town and we booked tickets for the following afternoon. The show was called Varekai and told the story of a young lad who had fallen out of the sky into a strange land full of mystical people and strange creatures who did their all to try to return him to where he came from – at least that’s what the blurb said.

I’d heard about how incredible the Cirque du Soleil team were but I was truly amazed as I watched them flip, spin, roll, tumble and juggle in captivating gravity-defying feats. The costumes were glorious and the stage set was an engineering wonder. The spectacle lasted just over 2 hours and just left us desperate for more but at $110 per ticket once would have to do.

Testament to the fact that there is nothing to do in Perth, the Rough Guide to Australia has only 8 pages dedicated to it from its 1256 leaves. If you compare that to Melbourne’s 50 pages and the 163 pages allocated to Sydney you’ll get some idea what I’m talking about. The only thing we could find to do was 287. The Perth Mint which thankfully didn’t disappoint. There was a brief chat about the Mint’s history followed by the story of the Western Australia gold rushes and if you believe the hype the original gold diggers didn’t even have to dig as there were massive nuggets of gold just lying all over the ground near Kalgoorlie some of them over 30kg in weight.

The second part of the tour consisted of watching some gold being smelted and turned into a gold bar. This was fantastic especially when the lights were turned down and the glowing liquid metal was lifted out of the kiln and poured into the mound. However, what made it more incredible was the delivery of the talk. The lad who was presenting immediately came across as a thespian and he had a dry wit that made everyone relax and enjoy the show while his commanding voice held everyone’s attention to the very end. There was a huge round of applause at the end and I think that it had more to do with his performance than the actual gold pouring demonstration.

After that there was the chance to try and lift a gold bar. It was so heavy that it felt like magnets with holding it to the plinth which it was sitting on and several of the younger tourists were unable to move it. A few of the elderly folk also struggled and I was waiting for the crunch and crack of splintering wrist bones but thankfully that never happened.

The final thing on the tour was the opportunity to see how much you would be worth if you were made of solid gold (or 99.5% which is the lowest purity allowed for trading on the market). There was a set of scales that told that Isla’s “weight in gold” was $1.8m and I was valued at a staggering $2.8 million. If ever there was a reason to eat more pies…

The next day was our final one in Perth and again we decided to get out of town again. Isla friend, Lauren, is a Perth-ite and she kindly picked us up and gave us a bit of a tour of the area. Our final destination would be Freemantle but we started with breakfast at 288. Cottesloe Beach. The Blue Duck restaurant was packed when we arrived but we still managed to get a table tantalisingly close to the veranda which looked out over the lovely beach and clear blue water. The food was decent if a little slow in arriving but the portions were massive and set us up for the rest of the day.

When we had finished brunch we took off again and drove through several other suburbs which I had no interest in so can’t even tell you their names but soon we were in 289. Freemantle. We’d heard lots of good things about Freemantle particularly the markets but after wandering around town we really couldn’t see what the fuss was about. I guess that if you live in a place like Perth then Freemantle would seem like a funky getaway destination in the way that St Kilda is to Melbourne but in a hopelessly inferior way.

One thing that we did enjoy was the 290. Little Creatures Brewery which seemed to be the most popular thing in Freo (as it’s known by the locals). The micro-brewery proper was behind glass screens which looked into a central open bar and restaurant area and outside were several solid wood tables and chairs as well as piles of palates to sit on. It was another warm day and we enjoyed some of their pale ales and ciders in the sunshine. Further exploration didn’t reveal anything else decent in Freo and soon we were on the train back up to Perth.

We were feeling quite hungry when we got back to the city but despite it being only 6pm everything was closed and we couldn’t find a restaurant for love nor money. Eventually a small but busy restaurant revealed itself to us and we settled in for 291. Korean Food. It was very similar to Chinese but with slightly different spices and presentation however I didn’t ask whether we were eating North or South Korean cuisine although I suspect is was the latter as I don’t think anyone has been allowed out of North Korea in years to spill the secrets of northern cooking.

A four hour 292. Flight to from Perth to Sydney and we were home and I can’t say that I was upset to leave Perth. It’s a shame that there is so much more to see in Western Australia but the vastness of the state and our miscalculation of staying in Perth meant we didn’t get a chance to see the rest of the west coast. With our time in Australia running out it seems unlikely that we’ll get to rectify this.

268 - 283. Melbourne

Once we had deposited the campervan back at the depot we walked across town to the Victoria Hotel where we would be spending the next two nights. Even though it was early in the morning they had the room ready and were kind enough to let us check-in before the usual 2pm. The room itself wasn’t up to much and Isla used the adjective “tired” which described it (and the rest of the hotel) perfectly. However, we weren’t that bothered as it was warm, had a comfy bed and a decent shower – which we used immediately.

Once we were refreshed and had washed the last dregs of the Ocean Road off us we took to the street to have a look at the city of Melbourne. I should point out that whenever you speak to anyone about Melbourne they will unanimously tell you that there are only three things to do there – eat, drink and shop. That’s it. Nothing else. Therefore I felt that the 365 would suffer here even though Melbourne itself is quite an experience. So with that in mind I decided to include places that we ate and bars we drank in. I only counted shopping as a single entity as it’s something I’m not particularly interested in and besides I’m sure you don’t want to know about which cream I bought for my athletes foot. It might be deemed cheating but when you read the following paragraphs I’m sure you’ll realise it’s the only way to give you a flavour of what Melbourne is really all about.

Anyway, as has become the norm for us, we went looking for the 268. Free Bus Tour which are now the mainstay of reconnaissance for any city that we visit. It was ok but more akin to the one in Brisbane than the one in Sydney. Again Melbourne isn’t really and iconic city and in order to get the best out of it you really need the help of a seasoned local – which we would have in the form of Laura the following day.

We got off the bus and spent a while in 269. Federation Square which is one of the latest architectural spectacles to be built in Melbourne. It’s a strangely constructed group of buildings that host various arts and culture events as well as a collection of bars and restaurants that surround the “meeting place” which is the Square proper. We had trouble getting a seat in one of the bars and when we finally got a table outside a small restaurant our enjoyment of the atmosphere was hampered by the fact we were in the smoking section and EVERYONE in Melbourne smokes. So we didn’t even stay long enough to order anything and with a cursory glance at the guide book we decided to take a tram somewhere.

That somewhere was St Kilda which is on the water front and only a short ride on the number 16 tram. What we didn’t realise thought was that St Kilda was not the last stop so the 20 minute tram trip became a 50 minute ordeal into the middle of nowhere before we realised we’d completely missed St Kilda. The streets the tram had taken us down seemed pleasant enough though so we got off and decided to walk back up the road.

After a brief stop in a funky little café for a sandwich we finally found ourselves in 270. St Kilda. It’s a cool secluded suburb which is dominated by the tacky and equally famous Luna Park which we walked past but decided not to go into. That also happens with its sister park in Sydney and I’ve no plans to include either of them in the Challenge. Cheesy and old-fashioned as they may be they still have almost cult status and even Bill Bryson visited the Sydney one and mentioned it in his book Down Under. Shame on you Bill, dropping your standards like that.

The main street in St Kilda is called Acland St and is filled with cake shops and boutique clothing shops and cake shops and bars and cake shops and cafes and cake shops and tattoo parlours and cake shops and record stores and cake shops… You get the picture. It was a sign and after the long walk from the sticks we thought we would justify a pastry or two and called into the imaginatively named 271. Acland St Cake Shop where we scoffed vanilla slices and baked cheese cakes like they were going out of fashion. Not here they weren’t.

After we’d had our fill of St Kilda and it’s baked goods we jumped back on the tram and slowly trundled back to the heart of the city. The shops in Melbourne are open quite late and Friday night shopping doesn’t stop till a yawning 10pm so we had plenty of time to do some 272. Shopping in Melbourne. We meandered through the QV Centre and the Melbourne Central Mall and window shopped in Collins, Swanston and Elizabeth streets. There was so much to see and the best stuff was usually found lurking in dark side streets where no well respecting British shop would even dare to be found.

Our tour of the shops lead us back to our hotel which was just as well since we were meeting a girl called Anna for dinner. Anna was one of my medical students who was originally from Melbourne and happened to be there at the same time as us. She and Isla had struck up a rare friendship since they had become running partners in Sydney a few months ago and had arranged the dinner date a couple of weeks earlier.

Dumping our shopping bags and quickly changing into something dinner-ish (which is hard when all you have is a backpack full of damp and smelly shorts and t-shirts) we were soon out the door hailing a cab to take us for 273. Dinner on Lygon St which is in the famous Italian quarter of Melbourne and is loaded with eateries all with a hefty European flavour. The place we were going to was called Tiamo and had a simple but tasty menu – simple in that you chose a sauce and a type of pasta to go with it. They only had about 5 of each but what was served to us was cooked with the perfection that only an Italian Mama can muster. Mind you it was probably put together by illegal Philippinoes working in the back kitchen but I prefer to think of a big fat master cook stirring a cauldron of fettuccini as she shouts orders at her extended family while wiping carbonara sauce on her already stained apron that hardly covers her paunch which is a result of too much good food and too many babies.

Regardless, the chow was magic and very filling so when Anna suggested cake I almost baulked. I was outnumbered and after a few strides to the next street we were eating Danish pastries and drinking cappuccinos in 274. Buretti’s which Anna complained had “become too much like a canteen these days” for her liking but still put a nice bit of icing (excuse the pun) on the Italian Quarter eating experience. By this point it was almost 11pm yet all the cafes were stowed with people enjoying their coffees, chatting, reading, working on laptops and, of course, smoking. The European influence was so ridiculously evident that were it not for the street signs and menus written in English you could have been forgiven for thinking you were kicking back in a café in Paris or Rome. I think anyone from our neck of the woods would find it hard to get home sick living in Melbourne and if distance to the rest of the world was a problem in Australia as a whole then Melbourne was the solution to that issue.

Our coffees and desserts were gone to quickly and despite having plenty of chat left we decided to call it a night as we wanted to be up early to continue exploring the remaining nooks and crannies of the city. It would be only our second but unfortunately our last day in Melbourne before flying to Perth and we wanted to make the most of it. Anna had her car with her and dropped us back at the hotel where we fell into a deep post-parandial sleep.

Despite or best intentions we slept in and only had time to go on the 275. Vintage City Circle Tram which follows a different route to the bus tour but had the worse commentary ever and the volume was set to eleven on the speakers so after about the 4th stop when blood started trickling out of our ears we decided, or were more realistically forced by sonic waves, to get off the tram before our ear drums imploded. That aside, time was running short thanks to our long lie and we were due to meet up with our mate Laura.

We arrived in Fed Square just before she did and it seemed like ages had past since we were breakfasting in Barwon Heads. She was on good form and after a brief visit to some “can’t be missed” shops (which I thought could easily be missed both from the points of view that they were all secreted away in tiny dingy back streets and that they only sold bags and girls shoes) we were soon eating and drinking again. I swear that if I lived in Melbourne for a year I’d weigh about 24 stones by the time the first 6 months was up. As I said earlier “eat, drink and shop”. We’d done the last one to death and now it was time to hammer the first two indulgences. Here follows what I think sums up a typical day in Melbourne.

Lunch was in a top-notch restaurant called 276. Movida which was so popular that it had required Laura to book a table a week earlier. Regardless of the fact the entrance was hidden down a grotty alley way and hidden behind a dumpster and the cardboard box homes of a couple of tramps it was the kind of place that was full of lunching suits. Nothing on the tapas-style menu was cheap and as an example they had a plate of jambon which was $20 for 20 grams! – which we thought “what the hell” and ordered. In fact we had about 7 or 8 different tapas and splashed out on an evil dessert consisting of donut sticks and Belgium dipping chocolate and the most incredible crème brulee in history but that might have been the 2 jugs of fruity sangria talking.

We left there feeling overly sinful and in order to quash our guilt we went to straight for 277Coffee in De Graves Lane which didn’t make me feel any better so I had some more wine instead while Laura and Isla drank aromatic latte and rich hot chocolate respectively. This place, again, was tucked away from the outside world and oozed with the essence of Melbourne’s café culture and gave us the perfect vantage point to people watch and while away the next couple of hours.

The girls wanted to look in a few more shops so we left the comfort of the coffee house and traipsed round some other boutiques (which I’m sure were the same as the ones we were in earlier) and after sufficient huffing and puffing by me they relented and agreed that cocktails in 278. Hairy Canary would be a better use of our time. We did take a walk down past the Yarra River first which gave us some first rate views of the city sky line although these were obscured by the strangely isolated ferris wheel that stood by itself on the banks of the Yarra like a cheap London Eye imitation for achondroplastics.

There was also plenty of “situational art” including the 279. Federation Bells which were chiming just as we arrived. It was very surreal standing in amongst them as they clattered crazily and one sounded like a bird had got trapped inside and was now being hammered to death as that particular bell tried desperately to keep up with his automated pals. I’m not really sure if there was a particular tune that was programmed into them but I’d say it had a hint of freestyle jazz what ever it was.

When we reached Hairy Canary their cocktail list was extensive and we were lucky to get the last seats before it became rammed with office workers having post-work drinkies. We only had a couple of cocktails which we savoured while we nibbled Turkish flat bread and dips.

We were beginning to get hungry again and the flat bread just wasn’t cutting it. There were no available tables in the restaurant part so we sadly had to leave in search of something more filling. This took us to one of Laura’s favourite places which was multi-story building containing several bars and restaurants. Our first stop was 280. Cookie which was a popular haunt for students and trendies alike. In fact we saw the bloke who used to play “Billy” in Neighbours and is now on that travesty of a medical drama House. The girls spent a lot of time swooning (which I’ll use to my advantage next time I’m in a bar and Salma Hayek walks in) but to all the blokes he just looked like a spotty teenager with his head up his arse. In fact I don’t think he was actually meeting anyone in there as he just seemed to pace round the place with that air of “I’m famous. Look at me!” hanging around him like a stinking cloud of smugness.

Eventually he pissed off and I could get on with having some chat with the girls and enjoying dinner. The menu was a real mix of things and I ended up having Thai Yellow Curry Snapper which was bloody amazing. Since the day was turning into a total hedonistic affair where expense was not a consideration (and “Billy’s” presence had given me a weird sense of needing to prove that I could afford something that I’d later regret from the massive wine list) we washed our meal down with a bottle of 281. Ashton Hills 2006 Pinot Noir which cost a ridiculous $50 but was spectacular. I made some speech about it being “totally worth it” and how it was “an amazing wine”. The girls just thought I was a moron.

I have to say that by this point I’m surprised that we were still going but when Laura said, “I’ve got another bar that I really have to show you” there wasn’t a peep of objection from either of us. We left Cookie and climbed about 10 flights of stairs to the top of the building and then continued up an external fire escape to the most unlikely of venues. On the roof was the unsurprisingly named 282. Rooftops Bar. Unlike it’s namesake in Glasgow this bar was quite a classy yet chilled out affair without a pair of white stilettos in sight. There was a chill in the air but the over head gas heaters and the mulled wine we were drinking soon dispatched the cold much like it would during an après ski driking session. The gluhwein did remind me of ski trips to the French Alps but the view was a bit different. From this vantage point we could see most of the city as it went about its nightly business oblivious to the three open-yawed piss-heads gawping down at it.

Laura’s boyfriend then turned up as he had just finished work. We were pretty much at the end of our staying power but since he had only just arrived it seemed a bit unfair for us to merely shake hands and say our goodbyes so with that we headed to 283. Toffs in the City for another drink. We ended up staying there for quite a while as each of the little booths could be closed off to provide an intimate and private cubicle that enticed us into staying longer. But even though the atmosphere improved our chat worsened and it wasn’t long before everyone had had enough and was ready to call it a night. Once again we were sadly saying goodbye to Laura and Gideon and after a short drink-induced coma-like sleep we were checking out of our hotel and of Melbourne. Onwards to Perth.

233 – 267. Great Ocean Road Trip

233. Flight – Sydney to Melbourne Again Isla and I had some annual leave and we were eager to go somewhere new in Australia. The pin hit the map on Melbourne and we thought “that’d be a good plan” so we booked ourselves on a flight and headed out to Victoria. After some deliberation our plan was to do the Great Ocean Road and then spend some time in Melbourne followed by a flight to Perth in Western Australia for 4 days.

So we got on the plane and flew down south. Anyone from outside the UK who has flown to Glasgow Prestwick Airport thinking it was in Glasgow or London Stanstead Airport expecting it to be in London knows what I mean when I say we flew to Melbourne Avalon airport which is in Geelong about 100km from Melbourne. Ironically our first night was supposed to be in spent in Geelong with our friend Laura but when we arrived in Avalon we realised that we had to get on a bus for an hour back into Melbourne to pick up our rental campervan.

We boarded the “Sunbus” which took us back into the city of Melbourne which unfortunately meant that we had to put up with the monotone dribblings of the driver called Mike or Paul or Dave or something else equally biblically forgettable – “if you look to the left you’ll see some black tarpaulin which has some brand cars underneath it… if you look to the right the tarpaulins over that petrol station are sails from the World Expo in 1998.” They love their tarpaulin here.

Thankfully we were in Melbourne before I used my own tongue to hang myself in order to get away from the drivers rubbish suicide-inducing chat. During our travels in Queensland we had seen loads of people driving around in mini-vans with the name “Wicked Campers” emblazoned on the front and we decided that if we were going to driver around Victoria and the Great Ocean Road then a Wicked Camper would be the way to do it. Therefore, the reason that we were travelling all the way back to Melbourne was to pick up our van that we had booked for 5 days to use while exploring the Great Ocean Road.

After getting off the bus with more relief than Africa after Band Aid we made our way to Melbourne’s Wicked Campers HQ and picked up our first ever 234. Campervan. It really was a POS and I remember thinking “they looked a lot cooler from the outside” but none the less it was going to be our companion for the next few days so we might as well enjoy it. It had no frills at all, essentially consisting of a table and chairs that folded down to be the bed and a few storage cupboards. There was also a sink and portable gas stove but hee haw else. We were glad we had the option to park at the side of the road every night if we wanted but liking our creature comforts too much forced us to book into caravan parks so we could at least have a shower. Not exactly the outback experience more adventurous types would be looking for.

With that we headed back down the Princess Highway to 235. Geelong to meet up with Laura. Once we arrived in Geelong we had several hours to kill before Laura got off work so we spent our time shopping in the local mall.

It wasn’t long before we were getting the tour of Laura’s house. Soon her boyfriend turned up and we were on our way to the local booze shop where we picked up some brilliant wine which we would drink in a lovely restaurant that specialised in Balinese cuisine. This wasn’t food… it was heavenly.The restaurant had started 5 years ago by a husband and wife team and the result was the most amazing meal Isla and I have ever eaten. In fact this entry should have two entries 1. Balinese Food and 2. The best food I’ve ever eaten… but I guess that’s cheating so I’ll just go with 236. Balinese Food.


So after a night at Laura’s home we headed to a place called 237. Barwon Heads where for breakfast and ate the most amazing omelette’s that you’ve ever seen. Unfortunately it was far too soon before it was hugs all round and we found ourselves in the van en route to the Great Ocean Road. With that we were in a quandary – we realised that we had a major job to undertake and that was the naming of the van.

It took a while to come to a result but it started with the fact that the van handled like a whale so we called it “Moby Dick” then it became “Moby” but when I told someone in a campsite that it actually handled like a boat it became “HMS Adventure” and after watching it fail to take a single Great Ocean Road corner without our stuff being flung around the back like a maraca it became “HMS Battle Rattle”.

After we left Laura we started our Great Ocean Road journey at 238. Torquay. We thought of the place as a bit of a dive but it mainly signified the start of our trip so we ignored it’s crapness. If I was a surfer I’m sure I’d be upset but since I’m not I dismissed this thought and got on the road again without a second over-the-shoulder glance.

Moving on we went to a place called 239. Jan Juc which isn’t really famous for anything except that there is a beautiful 3km walk from Jan Juc to 240. Bell’s Beach. I loved the walk but I spent every second thinking that Keanu Reeves was going to jump out the bushes at any point shouting, “I caught my first tube today,” or Nick Frost was going to be hiding behind a tree saying “have you ever shot your gun in the air and shouted… Arrrrrgh!?”

The surfing Mecca that is Bells Beach was a bit of a disappointment. There were plenty of people in the water riding the surf but the weather was pretty dreadful and that would set the tone for the rest of the Ocean Road trip. It was like the 50 year storm knew we were coming and was getting itself warmed up for our arrival. None the less it made the scenery very dramatic and I would hasten a guess that those sort of conditions are the best way to see the south coast of Victoria. I thought the torrential sleet shower we drove through though was a nice touch if not a bit excessive.

After Bells Beach we reached the start of 241. The Great Ocean Road proper which entailed about 285 km of picturesque road skirting the south Victoria coast. In fact it was built after the First World War as Australia’s answer to Calafornia’s Pacific Coast Highway and while not as famous it is as equally beautiful.

242. Lorne was our first stop and it coincided with a break in the weather and while we strolled the glorious beach we were treated to the most wondrous sight imaginable as a brilliant rainbow reached out of the clouds and touched the hotel at the end of the pier. Strangely I later spotted an identical scene in a Great Ocean Road book of photography so it made me realise that these occurrences are par for the course.

A few kms down the coast found us driving on a dirt track (don’t tell the camper company) called Grey Street in a place called 243.Kennett River where one of Isla’s friends had told us we had a good chance of seeing 244. Koalas in the Wild which sure enough we did. In fact there was so many of them here that within a short 200m walk we spotted about a dozen, some so close to the trail that you could almost touch them. Of course there was eucalyptus trees everywhere and the smell of them was almost overpowering.

We left the koalas behind and continued driving along the stunning coastline where the rain continued to batter HMS Battle-Rattle. She wasn’t exactly sea worthy so we pulled up in 245. Apollo Bay and regrouped. The beach here was incredible and the constant pounding of the waves were rhythmically hypnotic. As the rain increased in it’s fury we came to the conclusion that we should pull into one of the camp sites and batten down the hatches for the night. So with that we had our 246. First Australian campsite experience at the Pisces Caravan Resort. Even though the van was sheltered by a bank of trees it didn’t stop the wind rocking us to sleep although we would be woken up every 30mins or so with huge amounts of precipitation hammering on our roof.

We were up early the next morning and an invigorating hot then cold then hot then cold campsite shower did nothing for our bleary eyes and aching bones and bruised muscles. The temperature had dropped dramatically overnight and had we not brought an extra duvet with us I’m sure we would have frozen to death on our rock hard bed.

Leaving Apollo Bay we headed into Otway National Park where our first stop was the 247. Otway Lighthouse which was bravely perched on a bit of blustery headland indicating to sailors the treacherous waters off the coast. We did the self guided tour round the old lighthouse residencies which gave a good insight to the lives of the people who had lived and worked in the miniscule community. After that we climbed the lighthouse itself which afforded us some great views of the churning water below.

We headed back into the National Park again and had a short stop at 248. Castle Cove where many dinosaur remains have been found. We, of course, didn’t see any Tyrannosaurus Rexes and since the wind was picking up again we made our way inland to the 249. Otway Fly Treetop Walk where a huge amount of elevated catwalks allow patrons to walk amongst the canopy and see the local flora and fauna. That said there seemed to be none of the latter and although the height of the walk-ways were exhilarating there really seemed no other point to them. I don’t think we saw a single bird or animal so when the dark clouds started closing in again we decided to leave the canopy and head for, ironically, lower ground.

Now people outside of Australia might not have heard about the Great Ocean Road but a great deal more will have heard about the 12 Apostles which are a famous group of rock formations visible from the road. In fact there are actually 11 now as one collapsed a few years ago (but they’ve not changed any of the signs yet!). These rocky outcrops became the main theme of the next 50km or so and after a while we got a bit bored of them all so here’s a short list of the remaining visual spectacles we stopped at without all the bumf.

250. Gibson Steps
251. Twelve (Eleven) Apostles
252. Sherbrooke Blowhole
253. Sherbrooke Thunder Cave
254. Broken Heads.

Once we were all formationed-out we dropped into 255. Port Campbell where we decided to spent the night in another caravan park. The weather was looking bad again so we decided to treat ourselves to a proper meal and found ourselves in “Splash” restaurant which was a seafood place that was celebrating its opening night of the season. Despite that they seemed to be on top of things and my Surf n’ Turf and Isla’s ling were cooked to perfection.

Another rain battered night in the van then we were on the road again. There were a few more of the rocky formations to see and we gritted out teeth in the face of increasingly appalling weather and saw…

256. The Arch
257. London Bridge
258. The Grotto

Isla had well and truly given up the ghost by this point and my insistence to make a final stop at 259. The Bay of Martyrs was the final straw. We drove the final section of the Ocean Road in relative silence as the racket from the driving rain and wind threatened to deafen us and blow us off the tarmac respectively.

We pulled over at 260. Allansford Cheeseworld which all in all was a bit pointless. The tiny museum was dull and hardly worth a look but the little shop selling chutneys, wine and cheeses was quite cute and we picked up some lovely goats cheese and a small block of walnut cheddar with the obligatory box of crackers. A bottle of 261. Yahoo Creek 2002 Shiraz was purchased to washed down the cheese and biscuits but when we opened it that night it smelt corked and there was so much sediment in the bottle that I think it had probably been sitting on that same shelf in Cheeseworld since 2002.

262. Warrnambool was the next stop and we had originally planned to spend the night here but about an hour of walking around the town centre gave us cause enough to high tail it out of the grotty town and make our way to the more picturesque village of 263. Port Fairy. Arriving there we stopped for lunch in 264. The Caledonian Inn which is affectionally known as “the Stump” and is famed for the fact that it’s the longest continually licensed pub in Victoria.

A warm bowl of pumpkin soup later and we were back in the van driving round the town with a gradual realisation that there was very little to do here as well. So we pulled into another caravan park and settled in for the night. We had purchased a ridiculous difficult 1000 piece jigsaw of the Duomo Cathedral in Warrnambool earlier which we struggled with until our candles spluttered and went out. That was the signal for an early night.

We had the van for one more night and we were unsure what to do as we had seen the whole of the Ocean Road but would unlikely have time to see anything further a field as the van had to be back in Melbourne by 10am the next morning. We scrutinised the maps and guide book and decided just to fly down the Princes Highway and find somewhere close to the city to spend the night.

We stopped in at 265. Logan’s Beach just outside Warrnambool which is a reputed whale nursery. There is a long viewing platform to see the whales and their calves but despite it still being the calving season we didn’t see a single fin or blowhole.

The only place we stopped on the Highway was a small town called 266. Colac where we bought some petrol and drove up to Lake Colac where we parked for a lunch of ham and brie sandwiches which involved some very hard stale bread and flocks of petulant and boisterous seagulls. Despite parking with the main door on the leeward side we had to keep it shut to prevent the gulls helping themselves to our meal. Ironically all we were doing in the van was eating and playing gin rummy but the other occupants of the lake car park were all elderly couples whom all kept staring at the van and shaking their heads. Although from the looks on their faces I’m sure they thought we were smoking joints and indulging in S&M activities behind our closed sliding door.

We left the brown, uninspiring lake and continued the rest of the way to our final destination which was 267. Queenscliff. This used to be one of the seaside resorts that folk would frequent during the summer months a hundred years ago but now it doesn’t really have anything to attract people from the city for more that just a day trip. One thing it does have is an amazing fish and chip shop which we bough battered barramundi and red emperor from and ate at the pier. There was unfortunately far too many mosquitoes so we ended up trapped in the van pretending that we were sitting on the boardwalk. We spend the night in the “Big 4” caravan park which deserves special mention because it was the only place we stayed in that had 2 ply toilet roll. None of that single ply grease proof see though nonsense here!

The next morning marked the end of our trip round the Great Ocean Rd and all we had left to do was to drive back into Melbourne and dump the van back at the Wicked garage… which we did.