Lookout

We set off back to Sydney along the Princes highway, which is the main road heading north along the coast. There are no motorways down here and the road is often single-carriageway, so it takes a long time to cover a short distance. Heading off the highway and into the hills, we stopped at the Cambewarra lookout (678 metres above sea level) where the cream tea proved too difficult to resist. Just as we feared, it was squirty cream, though they had softened the blow by squirting it into a cute little earthenware pot. The scones were tasteless as well. 3/10

At the next table an Aussie with an asian mail-order bride read the paper while his mother-in-law shot daggers at him and muttered in Mandarin. No doubt she admires her daughter's new lifestyle (and diamond ring) but she evidently didn't think much of her choice of bloke.

Anyway, I digress. This is the view from the top looking towards Jervis Bay.

The beetle was siting on the other side of the glass verandah so I got a nice shot of him too.

Beach

March 14th

Trips like this call for gratuitous beach shots. One end of the beach has copper rock, which I think looks very Australian. I stood on the outcrop looking at the sea and felt like Kate Winslet in Titanic. Well, almost.

We spotted some dolphins larking about today, which pleased Darren greatly.

The sky is so, so blue. It's a shade of blue we don't ever see at home, starting lighter on the horizon and progressing to Clive James' crushed sapphires the further up you look.

We've done absolutely nothing but hang about the beach and pool again today. Tomorrow we head back to Sydney "the pretty way". I could have stayed here much longer.

Meeting the Locals

Ella had an afternoon nap today. The afternoon nap is like the holy grail, except nobody made a film about it.

While she was asleep we sat on the verandah drinking gin and tonic and lining peanuts up for the birds, who took it in turns to swoop down and collect them. Yes, I know, gin and tonic in the afternoon. It's all part of our new honky tonk lifestyle.

Ella loves the kangaroos. She generally walks up to them and introduces herself along the lines "hello kangaroo, you nice kangaroo. I Gabriella!". She then copies pretty much whatever they do, scratching her tummy, hopping and pretending to eat the grass on all fours. It's so endearing that we drove to Bateman's Bay to buy a camcorder today. Ella will have few memories of our trip down under so I'm sure the films we make will be special to all of us.

Big Sky

13th March

There's not much to do here, but I'm surprised to learn that I'm enjoying life away from the city. This is the beach outside our cabin. The photo is worth clicking onto. As I have no filter for the camera, I've cheated and taken the shot through my sunglasses. You really get an idea of the colour of the ocean if you filter out some of the sunlight.

We can hear the ocean hitting the shore all night long and we occasionally hear the laugh of a kookaburra, which sounds exactly like a monkey. Last night something dropped onto the roof and woke me up. It was heavy enough to have been a possum. I couldn't get back to sleep afterwards and lay listening to the ocean and the trees, wondering about the aborigines who originally lived here and thinking that they would have heard exactly the same sounds every night.

This evening we kept Ella up a bit later so we could go down to the beach together and look at the night sky. We all sat on the sand while the stars slowly filled the sky to bursting point. The milky way stretches from north to south along the beach and with little ambient light, the whole sky glitters. It's beautiful. It brings tears to your eyes.

Ella looked up at the stars and really noticed them. She had one thing to say - "big sky". And she was right.

A Mob of Kangaroos

March 12th

We had our first al fresco barbeque this evening. Darren busied himself making aussie burgers (that's any burger actually formed in Australia, as far as I can see) while I laid out the picnic table and admired the charming kangaroos. I'm not sure whether they bite, so when this fella came a bit too close I shooed him away.

That was a mistake. He had big mates.

Just after I took this picture, eight large kangaroos surrounded our picnic table. They'd come looking for trouble. The table was hastily relocated inside the barbeque shed and we ate the burgers with one eye on the kangaroos.

Now I know why the collective noun is a "mob".

Beachcombing

Monday March 12th

Mangoes for breakfast. Mangoes and "European Yoghurt", which means Greek yoghurt almost like the "Total" stuff you can buy at home.

But not quite.

I'd like to report that I sliced the mangoes into perfect cubes and arranged them onto the table as part of a nutritious breakfast for my family. The fact is, I hacked at them with a blunt-ish knife with all the grace of a pride of lions tearing at a zebra, until the juice was running down my hands and under my wedding ring. I can't slice mangoes. I've even been taught how to do it, but I still manage to hit the stone every time. It would be satisfying to present dinner guests with a perfectly manicured fruit salad, but I don't think it will ever happen for me.

The resort here at Murramarang is billed as ecologically-minded. There are recycling facilities, but I notice the fridge has a 1.5 star rating for energy efficiency (of a possible total of six). Not quite what it says in the brochure. On other counts, Murramarang lived up to the hype. The kangaroos turned up outside our cabin around 9am. Real, wild eastern grey kangaroos with a backdrop of the South Pacific. Awesome. Ella loved it, and she learnt a new word (I'll soon be able to assess her on the Renfrew Word Finding Test. Just the scarecrow and watering can to sort out now).

Later in the morning we walked along the beach collecting delicate little shells - see the picture. The beach was almost deserted, with the exception of a couple from Stoke on Trent. They'd been on holiday in Australia for nine weeks and already the wife was up-turning her sentences. I think she's been practicing in the mirror.

Soldiering On

The cafe at Yatta Yattah serves Devonshire cream teas. We daren't stop in case it's one of those Welsh cream teas where they've swapped the clotted cream for squirty stuff out of a tin. I've never understood this - if I can buy Rhodda's Cornish cream at Sainsbury's in Warrington, why can't they lay their hands on it in Betws-Y-Coed?

The journey to Murramarang uncovers more delightful Australian place names. Some are aboriginal (Yatta Yattah does not, I might add, mean "woman ranting on", it means "water tumble down"). Some are not. They must have been desperate when they were thinking up names for the backwaters of Australia. My favorite spot today was "Cataract Creek". I'd like to report that it was followed by "Haemorrhoid Pass" and "Verruca Gorge" but you'll have to make do with "Bottlebrush Avenue". Honestly.

Kiama

March 11th

Arrived at Kiama at lunchtime. I'd made Ella a ham and avocado wrap but she needed a sleep so wasn't in the mood for eating, she was in the mood for whining and screaming.

The blowhole wasn't really performing. Something to do with the sea not coming in from the right direction. It did occasionally jump up, but as geological phenomena go, I've seen better. Anyway, my abiding memory will be the whining and screaming. You don't much feel like hanging about with that as a soundtrack.

Have Toddler, Will Travel

March 11th

We've been in Sydney for seven weeks now. Yes, it's really eight weeks since we left the UK, which is the longest we've ever been out of the country. We landed into Botany Bay in the dark and we haven't left the city in all this time. It struck me that I hadn't seen anything of the real Australia, so it was great to get out on the open road. I want to see gum trees, red earth, sea, dust and kangaroos.

We are heading for the wilds of Murramarang National Park via the blowhole at Kiama (pronounced kye-amma). It sounds wild, but we have Balamory on the DVD player, which takes the edge off the adventure. You don't see David Attenborough flicking through episodes of Tellytubbies in the back of his Land-Rover, do you?

Still, we saw a real live wombat at the side of the road. You don't see one of those every day either.

Fish Markets

We headed down to the Sydney Fish Market at Pyrmont this morning. I went out with wet hair because we were running late, so have spent the rest of the day scaring birds.

We took the camera but left the battery at home on the charger so you'll have to make do with a google image.

I'm not a huge fan of fish. I certainly wouldn't eat anything classed as a "crustacean", (surely the the marine equivalent of insects?), but I'm trying not to pass my feelings on to Ella.

"Mmmm, yummy prawns" I said as Darren cracked their heads and tossed them to the resident pelicans. I never thought I'd see a child of mine with part of an octopus hanging from her mouth. I tried not to show my disgust and stuck to beer-battered red snapper. I've seen them whole, they look friendly enough.

This afternoon we went into Bondi Junction to buy an Eskie (coolbox) for our trip down south tomorrow. It's serious stuff buying an eskie. You need a thermos flask, ice packs, water bottle and milk can as well. Ours is 35 litres and comes with an "extra long pulling handle", so we're all set for our road trip.

I say "all set" but we've noticed the Honda is leaking water. We've tried to join a breakdown recovery service but they're closed on weekends, so we'll just keep everything crossed. Will report back about the kangaroos next Thursday.

Sweet culture part II

The Violet Crumble bar turns out to be a poor imitation of Cadbury's Crunchie. It's marginally bigger, but sticks to your teeth for much longer afterwards. 1/10

The Cherry Ripe (Cadbury's) is like a thinner, cherry-flavoured version of a Bounty. 4/10

On my hips be it

Is Mathematics Pointless?

In my attempts at budgeting, I am shopping around to find "value for money".

Today I bought some hand-made pesto. It's delicious stuff packed full of basil, crumbs of parmesan and chopped pine nuts and you can get it in most of the shops.

The stuff in the Randwick deli was $6.20 for 200 grams. In the fruit shop it was $4.60 for 150 grams. I don't know how to do the maths without a calculator. I couldn't even make a guess so I just bought the biggest tub.

This conundrum reminds me of GCSE maths. When Darren heard the story, he shook his head. I'm not sure what this means, but he spread it pretty thick onto his sandwich, so I'm glad I bought the bigger one.

Is GCSE maths pointless in a world of slack housewifery?

Sweet Culture

I've been studying the cakes, chocolates, biscuits and sweets in the supermarkets here in Sydney. You do that when you're trying to be healthy. I have decided, for the greater good, that I will test out some Aussie institutions to see what all the fuss is about.

If you are following this blog, you are surely getting the richest insight into Australian culture since The Thorn Birds. I'll bet Judith Chalmers never ate a lamington in her life.

So far, I've tested the Lamington cake, the Peanut Slab and the legendary Arnott's Tim Tam biscuit. The latter is worth it's reputation - a posh version of the Penguin biscuit meets Club biscuit meets Yoyo. Worth going back for seconds (and thirds).

The Lamington is over-rated. Sponge cake covered in coconut. What's the point?

The Peanut Slab is so-so. The chocolate is rubbish but it is indeed a slab of the stuff and the peanuts are plentiful.

Next Time: The Violet Crumble bar.

PWWBVA - Part IX

The Coogee Bay Hotel, Arden Street, Coogee

No, we definitely won't be going there again. I cannot trust myself with the pheremone wipes.

You'll be pleased to know that I don't have enough roman numerals left to contiune with this self-indulgence.

PWWBVA - Part VIII

Dunk Island, off the Queensland coast

Ah lovely Dunk Island, admired by Captain Cook and by Qantas, who own a swanky resort just off the ferry. It's a grand place to get dunk in the Coral Sea, though preferably not at Muggy Muggy bay, aptly named as the water is so muggy that visibility is down to, well, pretty much your hand in front of your face.

Being a braver soul, Darren went snorkelling off Muggy Muggy. His reward was coming face to face with a fish who's photofit resembles the potato cod. One minute he was casually flapping his fins and blowing on his pipe, the next he was steaming out of the water with a facial expression matched only by those on Amity Island as Roy Schneider reached far too slowly for his loudhaler.

He later lost one of the fins. As it was hired, we had to retrace our steps until we found it. A Scandinavian man with an accent like the Muppets' Swedish chef had beaten us to it. I hope that doesn't sound racist. He really did speak like the Swedish Chef. burd burd burd.

PWWBVA - Part VII

Lake Barrine, Atherton Tablelands, Queensland.

Lake Barrine, and it's sister, lake Eacham are crater lakes high up on the tablelands. The road from Cairns starts off snaking through fields of tall sugar cane before entering the lush vegetation of the hills. If you don't like the road, you can take the single gauge railway up to Kuranda. It's dead touristy but it's one of those things you just have to do, and the return journey is via cable car suspended above the rainforest. You fly higher than the cockatoos and have a view out to the barrier reef. There's no finer place.

We'd never have gone to Lake Barrine, but we were guests of a friend's Auntie, who lived in Malanda (start of the longest milk run in Australia). She'd started life in the UK, married and emigrated to Queensland where she'd raised a family mad on the outdoor life. They live in a proper old Queenslander house on a large plot with lemons in the garden, possums sniffing in the attic and wild platypus mooching about in their creek. We watched them through the binoculars early in the morning, it was magical.

The spider in the laundry cupboard, however, was unwelcome.

Next day they took us to both lakes and to the curtain fig tree. We picnicked on home-made banana loaf and coffee from a thermos flask and saw giant turtles swimming in the lake. I've never forgotten their kindness.

PWWBVA - Part VI

Perth, Western Australia. The most isolated city in the world.

We've been to Perth twice; once by design and once through circumstance, when the Australian Cricket Board changed the dates of the Adelaide Ashes match in 2002. We'd already booked the flights to Adelaide and decided to switch to Perth to catch the cricket. The cricket was atmospheric but the England team were abysmal and the game was over in two and a half days. We should have gone to Adelaide.

Perth is a perfectly lovely city. What else can you say about a city where your fingernails are still immaculately clean at the end of a hard day's sighseeing? It has a lovely position on the Swan River, some beautiful beaches on the Indian Ocean and a plethora of flowers and palm trees. God it's dull.

The other thing about Perth is the proximity to the relatives in Rockingham. It's the fastest growing city in Australia but not one we'd consider living in, even for twelve months.

PWWBVA - Part V

Kata Tjuta (The Olgas), Northern Territory.

I loved being in the Northern Territory. The place looks and sounds like the ends of the earth. Dingoes hang about at dusk and there's no ambient light after the sun goes down, which makes for spectacular views of the Milky Way. It's the sort of place you can spot the southern cross in the night sky the very first time you look for it.

The Olgas are the poor relations of Ayers Rock (Ulhuru), which lies about 40km away. They are part of the same rock formation; it pokes up out of the ground as Ayers Rock at one end and The Olgas at the other. We stayed at the Outback Pioneer Lodge because we couldn't afford "Sails in the Desert". Darren ate barbequed crocodile and we went to the night-time observatory to learn more about the stars. It was awesome.

My regret is that I didn't explore Ayers Rock. I had no desire to climb it (not just because I'm chicken - the local aborigines object to people climbing their sacred place), but I stayed in bed rather than take the early morning bus to the base of the rock with Darren. I had a nice kip but I've paid for it many times since as I've looked back at my photos and wished I'd actually held it in my hands.

One for the backburner, I reckon.

PWWBVA - Part IV

Monkey Mia, on the northwest coast of Western Australia. Wild dolphins have been coming into the shallows here for years hoping to interact with humans. Okay, it's all about the big buckets of fish on offer every morning. We had no concept of eco-tourism back then.

This place is about as far as you can fly from Sydney and still be in Australia. It's also the only place in Western Australia where you can watch the sunrise over water (as Western Australia faces the Indian Ocean to the west they get the sunsets but not the sunrises. Monkey Mia is positioned at the head of a peninsula, which is how this becomes possible).

We travelled up the west coast on an overnight Greyhound Pioneer bus from Perth. The road was straight and narrow and the scenery barely changed in 600 miles. The bus stopped to refuel at a roadhouse (service station) called "Billabong" which made me smile for hours afterwards. The roadhouse was run by a big old bloke wearing a string vest with egg stains down the front. He fried up some bacon for the bus driver while we scrapped over stale muffins front of house.

The dolphins arrived at 7am, right on cue. We drank orange juice on a catamaran afterwards before making our weary way back down the coast.

I wish we'd gone to Ningaloo Reef instead, but hindsight is a great thing.

PWWBVA - Part III

This is Green Island on the Great Barrier Reef. For the geographers out there, it's a coral cay rather than a continental island. It's where you went for the day if you couldn't afford the trip out to Norman Reef.

Green Island was our second day in Queensland and I nearly cried when I saw the colour of the sea as our boat approached. We took a snorkeling trip out from the jetty, which was a pretty brave move because I'm scared of water, on account of having watched my best friend fall into the Sankey Brook when I was a kid. Sankey Brook looks nothing like this, as the name suggests.

Unlike the rest of the party, I insisted on wearing a full life jacket while snorkeling. I looked nothing like the holiday-makers in my guidebooks, though this was largely down to the size of my arse rather than the life jacket per se.

Having climbed off the boat, I persuaded Darren to go off snorkelling on his own. As soon as he'd gone, I climbed straight back on and headed for the smorgasbord lunch but was rumbled when he came flapping back in his fins. After he persuaded me back into the water I tried to hoodwink him by putting my head under the water and pretending to open my eyes.

"What do you think of the reef?" He said when I emerged.
"Oh it's fab"
"What did you see?"
"Fish, you know, stripey ones, spotty ones. And coral, pink and blue coral"

"That's funny" he continued, pointing to his right. "The reef is way out over there. You had your eyes closed, didn't you?".