If anyone else wants to celebrate my birthday and all the WONDERFUL FREE CONTENT I painstakingly craft, I’m accepting donations

I may have been ready to leave Australia but Australia certainly wasn’t ready to let me. Many countries require proof of onward travel before they issue a tourist visa. No one cares if you cross the border by land, but airlines sometimes ask to make sure they’re not stuck with you if you’re denied entry somewhere. Except for Australia I had had an onward ticket for every other international flight. Singapore is apparently not as nonchalant as Australia about people entering their country with no evidence of any intention to leave. Their reputation for strictness is seemingly well deserved.

After being politely told by the airline desk agent that I needed a ticket on something to somewhere, I sat in the airport’s internet cafe hurriedly trying to make quick decisions. I tried to book a flight home from Japan since I could almost guarantee myself I would use it, but the website wouldn’t let me. Rather than waste more time and money, I bought a cheap ticket out of Singapore on the discount airline I was flying with and called it a day. I wasn’t going to actually use the ticket, but the purchase appeased the rules and I was allowed onto the plane. I have yet to have an interaction with an airline on this trip that makes sense. In any event, finished with Leg #2: English, onto Leg #3: Miscellaneous.

I was greeted at the airport by my friend Jeremy who I worked out later I hadn’t seen in four years. His parents graciously allowed me to stay with them during my visit. I was able to accomplish a lot of chores that had been piling up, like laundry, this dumb blog, and lots of research. I wanted to stay with Jeremy to visit and catch up, of course, but I can’t deny that a few days on a fast computer without a countdown clock was a welcomed benefit. I worked out a trip to Hong Kong to coincide with my friend Jason’s work trip and I bought that ticket to the US from Japan to make upcoming immigration issues go away. To all my New York friends, one of you should expect me on your couch mid-July. K thx.

The two major past times in Singapore are shopping and eating. Both are hard to avoid. If a building’s not a shopping mall it’s probably a food court. Eating was especially difficult for me to have restraint with because the food was so varied, delicious, and mostly free. After Jeremy went to work in the morning I would use his computer for a while, go out into the city, then meet him and usually his girlfriend Charlene for dinner. Jeremy developed the bad habits of never letting me pay for anything and making sure I tried every food item even remotely tasty. This happened a lot

Jeremy (driving home from lunch): That was good, right?
Me: Yeah, I’m stuffed.
J (driving past a food court): Hey, have you tried fill in the food, yet?
M: Nope.
J: OK, we’re stopping.
M: …If you insist.

Singapore was not good for my diet.

Charlene took Jeremy and me to a jewelry store opening party one night. The store was gigantic, overly modern, and full of trendy, obviously expensive merchandise. The rest of the mall was just as over the top. The party was full of people who seemed like they might buy that type of stuff from that type of place, plus me. I was mostly preoccupied with the delicious chocolate cube dessert things they handed out.

We also went to Charlene’s father’s tea house on Saturday morning to drop her off for work. Jeremy and I helped refill the chili bowls and make the green tea pancake batter. It reminded me of my weekly shift at Second Job, except at a tea house instead of an ice cream store and, y’know, on the other side of the world. Before we left Charlene expertly made us two kinds of tea, both yummy.

The day I flew into Singapore was not only Australia Day but also my birthday. Jeremy actually bought me my first beer in a bar when I turned twenty-one. To celebrate the five year anniversary of that milestone we both got entirely too drunk on Monday night. Jeremy conveniently had the next day off, which we both spent sleeping a lot. And eating, naturally. I think we might have inadvertently started a pentennial tradition. At this rate in 25 years we could have gotten drunk on my birthday on all seven continents. Wow, you guys, you’ve just witnessed the generation of my newest life goal! And hey, Jeremy, what are your thoughts about Africa 2015?

Budgeting for: Australia

Australia was the most expensive country I’ve visited so far and probably will remain so. Maybe Japan will edge it out, but I certainly hope not. I traveled for the month as low budget as you can: sharing a small car, eating groceries almost exclusively, and camping. You can see the results for yourself. It’s not pretty. While I was there 1 dollar was around 0.90 Australian dollars.

SLEEPING
We usually spent $8-12 for camp sites. The hostel in Brisbane was a modest $24 a night. I managed to squeeze out nine free nights in Sydney, on the beach, and in the car. I have no idea how anyone can afford to spend an extended time in Australian hostels and not wind up penniless.

EATING
We ate groceries that ran about the same as groceries in the US. The kangaroo and crocodile burgers I had in Cairns weren’t cheap, but they were isolated incidents. We would up spending a lot of time in McDonald’s because of free WiFi and I had more than my fair share of $0.50 soft serve ice cream cones. Other than that I can’t even remember a restaurant I tried.

GETTING AROUND
We each spent $480.06 for the car and fuel. This would have been slightly less had Denny continued to chip in for the gas, but not enough to be worth trying to calculate. According to travel agents we asked in Sydney a hop-on-hop-off bus ticket from Sydney to Cairns was around $400. So we spent a little more but got to go at our own pace and sleep in less costly towns.

DOING STUFF
I spent $140 for Fraser island, $300 for the Whitsundays, and $107 for diving. I can’t stress this enough: Australia. Isn’t. Cheap.

BOTTOM LINE
I spent $1641.34 over 30 days, or $55/day. This may not seem too bad, but my quality of life was much lower than I had been accustomed to in South America in order to achieve this. As always, your mileage may vary.

Also on the list: cotton balls, snowflakes, and name calling

We made camp in Cairns (for the last time! YAY!) while it wasn’t raining, which we learned over the next few days was a bit of good luck. The weather kept us hunkered in Cairns and made us miss Cape Tribulation entirely. In fact, the seemingly endless forecasted rains convinced Thomas and Viola, who were both thinking of staying in Cairns to find work, to look into other plans. In the flurry of planning Thomas decided to fly to Perth and Viola found a ride heading to Alice Springs. As for me, I booked a one day dive trip to the Great Barrier Reef, my last item on the Australia to-do list, and tickets to Singapore. I definitely think I won at travel plans.

Viola decided to come diving with me, so the two of us woke up entirely too early for a Saturday and got on the boat. Many companies had canceled trips due to lack of interest, the one we went with being one of the few reckless enough to go out to sea during a cyclone. One of the selling points of this boat was that it’s fast enough to get to spots further out on the reef. I don’t get seasick easily, but the outbound voyage gave me great contempt for the stupid sea with its stupid waves. The trip back was even worse. I did made it back to dry land with my dignity still in my stomach where it belongs, thank you.

Like most dangerous things I’ve tried so far (flying, skydiving, driving a car, etc) you’d be surprised how little instruction you get from the “professional” charged with your safety.

Diving Instructor: Put this in your mouth, keep it in your mouth. If it comes out of your mouth put it back. Breathe normally. Don’t hold your breath. Do what I tell you. And don’t touch anything. Any questions?
Class: Nope.
DI: OK, let’s go have fun!
C: OK!
DI: Oh, also, whatever happens, don’t FREAK OUT.
C: …

Because it was an intro dive we were not allowed loose on our own. Four people went at a time so we had to link arms to make a human chain with the instructor in the middle. I was the lucky one who got the instructor on one side and a lazy SOB who refused to kick on the other. It was like swimming with an irritating Asian boulder connected to my elbow. Apart from the dead weight the experience was outstanding. It wasn’t weird to breathe underwater and I got to see cool stuff up close. The coral and fish were also much nicer than the Whitsundays. I’d love to try it again when I can decide where to go and what to see and with fewer things I’d like to punch attached to me.

After diving we ate a delicious lunch then made another stop for snorkeling. This spot was excellent with lots of fish and shallow coral.

first person to ask me if I found Nemo is no longer my friend

Since it was still summer in Queensland I of course wore a stinger suit both for diving and snorkeling. Luckily this one fit much better than my first, so it was much less uncomfortable. I had also learned in the Whitsundays that my beard prevents a good mask seal and causes leaks. Not wanting a leaky mask ten meters underwater and also not wanting to look like a douche and shave just my mustache*, I had shaved my whole face the day before.

*Seriously, chin curtains make you look like a super douche. Except for Lincoln, but no one is as badass a Lincoln.

So there I was minding my own business, swimming around taking pictures when…Hey..My chin kinda stings. Why does my chin sting? Maybe salt water got into a cut? Mayb…Wait. Did, did I just get stung? IN THE FACE??!?! That’s right, you guys, wearing the lycra full-body condom complete with hood and mittens, fins, and a mask over my eyes and nose and having just removed my normal protective covering from the now only remaining exposed body part, a stinger sensed this vulnerability and stung me. Right in the face. Believe it or not I was unperturbed by this. Quite the contrary. I was impressed by the creature’s accuracy and since the discomfort was on par with a sunburn I was able to take it like a man, shrug off offers of assistance, and add stingers to the list of things whose natural defenses are well below my macho tolerance for pain.

All goals accomplished in Australia, I was able to hang around the rest of the time and read the newest massive Wheel of Time book. Before Thomas flew away we cooked a last supper of sorts of burgers on one of Cairn’s free beachside BBQs. In the middle of a cyclone. Fun times. That night since it was just the two of us and since staying in a tent was both dangerous and not free, Viola and I slept in the car. In addition to free BBQs Cairns has free showers and bathrooms by the public pool. It was about the same as the campsite, really, with the added advantage of fewer mosquitos. Viola left the next day and since none of the facts about the tent had changed I slept in the car again by myself.

Once I returned the car at the airport, getting drenched in the process, I was more than ready to leave Australia. It happened to be Australia Day, the celebration of Cook’s landing. A rather appropriate occasion for this traveler to get the hell out.

Is It Food? Episode 4

I had a few food goals between South America and Singapore that only merited a post collectively. I managed to accomplish all of them because I’m very good at eating, so I now feel justified in sharing my success with everyone.

In New Zealand I wanted to eat lamb. That’s not a very weird thing to want to eat, you might be thinking, and you’d be thinking correctly. But sheep are basically New Zealand’s mascots and I like eating things that hold patriotic meaning. Also, the cuter the better. Wonder of wonders, it wasn’t very difficult to find lamb and I ate it in several locations and variations. It was yummy across the board and satisfying on multiple levels.

Australia’s analog to the sheep is the kangaroo, so of course I wanted to eat that, too. I suppose one could argue that koalas are also a national animal symbol, but they’re all threatened and stuff. I want to eat things, not wipe them off the planet, you guys! Anyway, I finally had a good chance to eat kangaroo in Cairns. It was as a sandwich, but the meat was chunks not ground, so I think I got a good impression of it. It’s a red meat and strongly reminiscent of beef, but it’s much leaner. It, too, was yummy, although a little pricey. Maybe because kangaroos are harder to catch than cows?

Australia has non-meat famous foods, too, and I don’t discriminate. The first and easiest to get was the Tim Tam, a type of sandwich cookie. They’re made of chocolate, so of course they’re good, but I didn’t think they were that special. They’re extra famous, though, because Australians invented a special way of eating them. You bite opposite corners of the cookie and suck a drink through it, like a straw. This causes the crunchy insides to get softer and the chocolate in the middle to melt a little. I must admit it is a commendable technique, but I’m not sure if it’s worth the added mess. I think I prefer the uniquely American Oreos in milk.

Last was maybe the most notorious Australian food item, Vegemite. Australians love Vegemite. No, they loooove it. It’s an ambiguous spread the Wikipedia tells me is made out of yeast. Also that “it is salty, slightly bitter, and malty — similar to beef bouillon.” Eeeeww! A common error the unaware make when trying Vegemite is to heap piles of it onto a piece of toast, as they would with Nutella. It doesn’t help that the two look similar. While this is comical for bystanders, not even Australians eat it like that. The proper way is to butter toast like normal then add a thin layer of Vegemite on top. This is exactly how I tried it during our time in the Whitsundays, and I can safely say that Australians have something fundamentally wrong with them. It….it wasn’t good.

I also ate a crocodile burger while in Cairns, at the same place I found the kangaroo. This wasn’t an Is It Food goal, per se, but I try to never turn down a good opportunity. It tasted mostly like chicken, big surprise, but with a flakier texture closer to fish. Not bad, but not worth hunting for. After all the cuddly food though, I guess it was only fair to finally eat something that at least had a chance of eating me back.

Mission: Beach

The five planned days following our departure from Airlie Beach got collapsed into three. Here’s the story, should you choose to read it. Da da daaaa, da da daaaa, da da.

At one pit stop on the first day we had the pleasure of viewing the Big Mango, which both marked the end of the Australian Big Stuff Expereince and redeemed the Big Fruit back into respectability (stupid banana). We then visited Townsville* where we thought we’d spend the night. After walking along the river’s esplanade and deciding the aquarium and aboriginal centers were too expensive, we realized we’d already run out of stuff to do and would rather spend the remaining daylight putting miles behind us. We camped in a rather swanky but in-the-middle-of-nowhere caravan park in Rollingstone**.

*How uninspired can you get when naming a town? I want to make a project in grad school called “City: a City” just to see if it flies.
**A cooler name than Townsville. Too bad it loses the making sense contest.

Day two took us to Mission Beach where we had planned to spend two nights in order to walk around a nearby island. Unfortunately it had rained all during the drive, our first encounter with the legendary Queensland summer rain, and we learned in town that because of tropical storm/cyclone Olga it wasn’t likely to stop any time soon. Mission Beach is a tiny one-street town and since we had arrived very early in the day and prospects of doing anything interesting were poor, we moved along.

From Mission Beach we veered into the Tablelands both because they’re supposed to be pretty and because Thomas wanted to see about a job. When we were checking out the next day the lady at the front desk of our campsite said the cyclone was getting worse and closer. Apparently the last time there was a cyclone all the roads in the area were impassable and everyone was stuck at home. So our plan to drive north past Cairns to Cape Tribulation meant we might never leave Cape Tribulation. We decided to head for Cairns and sort everything out there. At least if we got stuck there we’d be in a place that looked more like civilization and less like Atherton.

And that, you guys, is the kind of stuff that happens when the world’s weather patterns are in direct conflict with your vacation plans. Now I guess I have to think of some way to blow up Mission Beach…I mean, encourage it to “self destruct.”

P.S. Even though we didn’t stay there, I’d been planning to use this title for days. I had to stick with it both for sentimental reasons and because I think of so few good jokes I can’t just abandon one. Thanks a bunch, anyway, Mission Beach!

Does someone have a case of the Whitmondays?

We slept for one night in Yeppoon. It’s a town in Australia. There’s, uh, not much more I can say about it.

We arrived early in Airlie Beach to sort out our primary order of business: a boat trip to the Whitsunday Islands. The Whitsundays are a collection of islands known for beaches, snorkeling and diving, and overnight cruises on retired racing yachts, which are the star of the show. During our wheeling and dealing we encountered issues with the weather, availability, and prices which led to an afternoon of bouncing between travel agents, weighing options, and general hesitating*. We eventually settled on a two night trip on a catamaran instead of a sailboat. I think it was a smart decision because our group actually slept at a resort on one of the islands, not on board the boat. It turns out there isn’t a hell of a lot of room on racing yachts.

*This isn’t inherently abnormal for me, but when I’m by myself it’s usually to a much lesser degree. I’m a decision maker, you guys! Compromising blows.

On the first day, after stowing large amounts of BYO booze in the coolers in the back of the boat, everyone staked out a spot on the deck, bathed in sun screen, and totally zoned out. Other than periodic breaks to get more beer or for lunch, this was the general routine on board. We also made our first stop for swimming that afternoon on the way to the resort. January is stinger season in northern Queensland, so wearing a stinger suit was mandatory whenever going into the water. Stingers are tiny, invisible jellyfish about the size of a fingernail. If you’re not allergic, a sting basically just burns uncomfortably. Not a big deal. Unless you get stung hundreds of times, say, when swimming through a swarm you didn’t notice because they’re tiny and invisible. Then you can die. Wearing an ill-fitting Lycra full-body condom is maybe the least enjoyable way to go for a swim, but it beats being accosted by poisonous, stealth goo blobs.

After dinner (which wasn’t very good, and never got better) you’re evidently supposed to get stupid drunk. The resort encourages this as much as possible by organizing drinking games and other activities, including some clusterfuck where you buy a cane toad (that’s an animal, folks) at auction and then scramble around trying to chase it down once all the toads are released from this box…I really didn’t have much of an idea about what was happening other than it was evident the hotel was making a killing and drunk backpackers will spend money on anything with the remotest chance of being funny. The alcohol was overpriced and I never much liked getting wasted with nineteen-year-olds even when I was nineteen myself, so I remained the picture of moderation for the trip.

The second day we got to go snorkeling. Despite lots of hype I was unimpressed with the snorkeling quality; the coral wasn’t very pretty, the water wasn’t very clear, and there weren’t a whole lot of fish. Adding in the annoying stinger suit and the unforeseen complication of not shaving causing a leaky mask made the experience one of the least satisfying times I’ve been snorkeling. The famous Whitehaven beach was OK but also a bit of a letdown compared to Lake McKenzie on Fraser Island. It was so hot, though, that any opportunity to go swimming was a welcomed chance to feel more like a human being and less like a baked potato.

The remaining days and nights passed in a similar fashion: relax on the boat, go for a swim, eat mediocre food, drink, repeat. It was a good time despite all the complaining I just finished, but I wasn’t amazed by the islands. Maybe staying on a sailboat would have added a little something, maybe not. I will say that Whitsunday Islands is a totally kickass name and one of Cook’s best. All that practice naming stuff definitely paid off.

Bats are also directly responsible for Batman. Nothing is awesomer than Batman. NOTHING

Leaving Brisbane we stopped to say goodbye to Denny who stayed behind to be responsible and educate himself. Too bad, so sad. We also gave some guy from our hostel a lift to a nearby town so he could look for work picking fruit. You gotta give back to the community sometimes. And I got the impression that guy needed all the help he could get.

From Brisbane we moved to Hervey Bay. We wound up staying there three nights because of the availability and timing of trips to Fraser Island. Hervey Bay is small and caters almost exclusively to day or multiday trippers to Fraser. We had a relaxing few days in what turned out to be an excellent campsite, watching the huge colony of bats hunt for food at dusk. Bats -> fewer mosquitoes -> my current favorite animal.

Fraser Island is the world’s largest sand island. It’s got some funky aquifer effect that filters the water that seeps up from the salt water table into fresh water. That means stuff actually grows there. So much stuff that people harvested lumber before it became a World Heritage Site. The roads are all sand, though, and a popular way to visit is to drive yourself around in a 4×4 for a few days. We decided we’d see more and spend less time, money, and pains in the ass by taking a day trip in a massive, unstoppable four-wheel-drive bus. It was a good decision based on the number of SUVs we saw stranded, including the one we had to tow out of a sand pit.

There’s a lot of interesting stuff to see on Fraser. It’s got special trees that don’t grow anywhere else in the world. It’s got a beach that’s actually a state highway, 80 kilometer speed limit included. It’s got a sand pile that I guess is supposed to be colored special. And it’s got a pretty decent shipwreck.

this is a picture of both the shipwreck and the highway

The best part by far, though, was all the fresh water. I’m not much of a beach bum, avoiding the sun because I like to not have cancer and not so much enjoying salt forcibly shoved up my nose by an errant wave. Beaches are all right, but my opinion generally leans toward “meh.” Our first chance in the water was a walk in a creek. It was ok, warm enough, nice scenery. But after lunch we went to one of the lakes in the middle of the island which, after careful consideration, I’m going to call My Favorite Beach of All Time. Imagine: perfectly clean, white silica sand; crystal clear, warm, calm, fresh water; good weather; and no crowds. The sand was what you’d get if you made it in a factory. Swimming was like taking a bath.

if you're having trouble imagining, it looked like this

My only worry now is that I’ll like normal beaches even less. Seriously. It was that good.

Fraser Island was a valuable trip, both for its own sake and to raise my overall opinion about Australia. We missed Denny, but traveling with three instead of four is more manageable. And it was nice to have a destination to break up the drive, beach, drive, beach monotony we had been experiencing. MORAL OF THE STORY: Even if I’m not very keen on a particular country or area of a country, I’m still traveling around the world for a year while you suckers are stuck doing work and shoveling snow and other lame things. Super fun good times for me at least, you guys!

You can insert innuendo into anything if you use…ellipses

A few kilometers from Byron Bay is a town that’s…unique. Nimbin was a center of hippy communes back in the ’70s and still indulges in some…social rituals you might expect in such a community.

an example of some of the fine merchant establishments

None of the stores explicitly sold…anything, of course. You had to go to the alley for that. Or the lady on the sidewalk bench hawking chocolates. Or the other lady down the street with brownies. Or in front of, in back of, or inside the museum. The “museum” is basically a series of rooms filled with junk, graffiti, and a certain distinct aroma. One room was completely blacklight themed. It was an interesting stop and we noticed many of the upstanding young travelers from Byron Bay in town for the day, absorbing the…culture.

The last major city heading north before Brisbane is Surfers Paradise. The name might evoke images of isolated white beaches, clear blue water, and no one in sight except a hot chick to bring you a beer. Really it’s a business center collection of high rises crammed right up to a beach. It looked pretty boring so we stayed in a podunk town called Canungra about thirty minutes west in the middle of nowhere. That was pretty boring, too, but it had campsites that wound up being the cheapest yet by far. Money still talks on this trip.

I liked Brisbane quite a bit. It doesn’t have all the cultural draw of Sydney, but it’s attractive and clean like the rest of Australia and feels straightforward and functional. I spent an afternoon wandering around the shopping district, botanical garden, and the Queensland University of Technology. The few museums I tried to see were closed either because of the Christmas holiday break or renovation. Whatever, I still give myself and Brisbane credit for the effort.

The four of us also spent a lot of time trying to rethink our travel plans. Denny had decided to stay behind in Brisbane to look for an apartment before school started in March. I had been having second (and third and fourth) thoughts about the trip, too. Australia has not been my favorite country so far and with the expense and the annoyance of camping and the realization of my preference of backpacking solo, I couldn’t stop thinking I’d rather be spending my limited time somewhere else. To make a long story short we couldn’t get out of the rental car deal, so Thomas, Viola, and I decided to venture onward on an altered itinerary and slightly accelerated pace.

Once the decision was made I became immediately less bummed. I was in the situation, I had explored all the options, so I could accept it and move on. If my approach to life is anything it’s practical. And after all, with only the three of us I now got a tent to myself every third night. And maybe, you know, Australia isn’t so bad after all.

In my imagination the koala really wanted to hug me, too

On our third day of driving I made everyone stop at the Billabong Koala Park. One of my goals in Australia was to hug a koala and here seemed like the best, cheapest opportunity. We didn’t arrive at the right time for koala petting and we would have had to hang around too long for the next slot, so I missed out on the cuddling. *Sad face*. Fortunately the kangaroos there are in a petting zoo and aren’t so prissy about being touched. Kangaroos are soft.

The park had lots of other Australian wildlife like wallabies, wombats, and dingoes (Oh my!).

and this guy. What's up with this guy?

It fulfilled my looking at native animals* requirement quite nicely. It also added to the running gag of Australian Giant Statues with a behemoth family of koalas in the parking lot.

*That aren’t roadkill. Headless kangaroos don’t count.

We came across the next Giant Statue not far away in Coffs Harbor, our stop for the night. The Big Banana turned out to not be very big at all, barely the size of a minivan. I didn’t even bother to take a picture. It was that lame. Our drive the next day made up for it.

three guesses what the Big Prawn restaurant specializes in

I don’t know what the deal with the Big Fruit is but it’s definitely the loser kid in the front of the Big Stuff School Bus compared to the Big Animals.

We stayed in Byron Bay, a popular tourist beach town. It’s the type of small town where most of the businesses are overpriced clothing stores and restaurants. The beaches were nice, though, and Denny was excited to get more than one solid day of surfing in. Surfing, by the way, is pretty fun and seems like an easier learning curve than snowboarding to at least get competent. The falls are much more forgiving, but I’m still undecided about whether salt water up your nose or snow down your back is less uncomfortable. Probably the snow. Not as much fish poop to worry about.

We camped as usual the second night of our stay, but because Byron Bay is the easternmost point of Australia the others wanted to watch the sunrise. I’m ambivalent towards sunrises and -sets in general, as I believe I’ve mentioned before, and especially now after my Easter Island rainbow connection, but, y’know, peer pressure and stuff. We combined three goals of watching the sunrise, going out for the first time on the trip, and being cheap and wound up staying up a little later than normal and sleeping a little on the beach. This was of course followed by dramatic napping once we checked in to an actual camp site. My requirements for personal comfort are pretty rock bottom, so I had slept fine, but I don’t think anyone else would volunteer for that experience again. To be fair, neither would I. I do have some standards.

C’mon, Australia, shouldn’t your Christmas break be over? It’s not like it’s…summer….

A few days after New Years Denny, Thomas, Viola and I left on our epic East Coast Road Trip. The first order of business was picking up some camping supplies. I don’t get any jollies from camping for its own sake, but hostels in Australia are double or triple what I’ve been accustomed to, so I was in to try. I won’t hesitate to admit that I’ve been spoiled by unwestern costs of living. That was a factor in choosing the route, after all, and I was having issues with what Australians think things are worth. Anyway, we wound up buying two two-man tents, some air mattresses, and groceries before hitting the road.

Our first destination was not in fact on the coast but the Blue Mountains a few hours west of Sydney. Viola had expressed a desire to see or maybe hike them and I like looking at mountains, so we went. Unfortunately the closer we got to the mountains the more the fog thickened. By the time we reached the viewing point for the peaks called the Three Sisters in a town called Katoomba visibility was close to zero. We stared in their general direction for a while before checking the weather for the next day and deciding not to stay. I’m sure whatever we were looking at was very nice.

Back on the coast and heading north we stopped for our first night of camping. We had actually waited a little too long to look for a campground and wound up in a decidedly uncampy town after dark. We followed the direction of a few gas station attendants and eventually found a place on a small peninsula in a town called Patonga. It was after hours so we squatted on someone else’s site for the night* and looked out of the corners of our eyes to steal the punch code for the bathrooms. The office guy questioned me with rather strong hostility in the morning but relaxed when he learned we had talked to both the site renters and the security guard. And after I had paid. An inauspicious first night, but we could only get better from there, right, you guys?

*With permission, of course. The guy parked next to us also took pity on my pumping the mattresses by hand and came over with his electric pump. When that broke he proceeded to break out his big hand pump and do half the work. Australians sometimes try a little too hard to be nice. It’s not normal.

The next town we stopped in was actually a small pair of coastal towns. It was here that we learned that maybe summer school break is a popular time for family vacations. We managed to squeeze one tent site out of the third caravan park we visited. At least this time it was legit and we had the luxury of making camp with daylight left.

The towns, Forster and Tuncurry, are separated by a small inlet that’s home to a surprisingly large pod of dolphins. This was the third time on the trip I’ve seen dolphins, not counting the one permanently scratched into my leg that I look at every day. I wish I could make fun of dolphins, but they’re just too slick (heh).

As I expected, camping is already starting to grow a wee bit tiresome. And I definitely miss traveling during the low season. Crowds and high prices. Really, Australia, you can do better. Oi oi oi.