Travelogue: Australia

“Ashton’s crook this morning,” our tour leader announced as we climbed aboard a minibus on a balmy sunlit morning. “He won’t be going along.”

We exchanged puzzled glances. “He’s what?” someone finally asked.

“He’s crook,” Maree replied, then remembering her audience, explained “oh, you guys would say he’s sick.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” another traveler joked. “I thought he’d robbed a bank or something.”

We all chuckled at the vision of Ashton, a soft-spoken southerner holding up a startled Aussie teller as we were once again reminded that, no matter how linked to our hosts by history and a once-common language, we were indeed travelers abroad. Nearing the end of our three-week stay in Australia with Overseas Adventure Travel, we still stumbled over the many colorful colloquialisms.

Expect the unexpected. This is the sign at the corner of the block where the Melbourne public library, a building of very traditional design, is located. Is there a message here?

The Melbourne Library

For an American, to visit Australia is to enter a realm both comfortable and exotic. Comfortable because, despite the occasional linguistic glitch, we can generally understand and be understood. Exotic because, nonetheless, much is different: wildlife that, in the words of travel writer Bill Bryson, “[bounces] across the landscape, like dropped balls;” a vast and virtually empty interior where the largest primary school in the world, the School of the Air, provides enlightenment to a scant 120 students scattered over 1,000,000 square kilometers of space; a determined and open-hearted populace, many of whom insist on helping eager travelers, sometimes heedless of whether the traveler happens to want help or not.

Australia was a combo trip, a few days booked independently followed by a two-week tour with a group. My traveling companion, Bob, and I had decided on that plan in order to take in some tennis at the Australian Open, and this meant we had several days in Melbourne on our own.

After a 15-hour flight, we had deplaned to an unexpectedly chaotic scene. Massive fires had delayed many in-country flights, originally scheduled to come in earlier in the day but now arriving at the same time as a crush of international travelers. Eventually, we collected our luggage, loaded it onto a cart and joined what we believed looked like a line of reasonable length . . .only to discover, as so often in life, appearances were deceiving. The line snaked about the terminal, diverting us away from our destination, the exit to the taxi line, several times before leading us through customs and out the door.

Climbing into a taxi, I breathed a sigh of relief—finally, I thought, a shower, lunch, a bed to stretch out on. But it was not to be. Checking in, we asked the hotel clerk where we could buy tickets to the Open for the following day. He gave us directions to the ticket booth a few blocks away, then added, “But you’d better leave your bags here at the desk and go right now. We’ve been told the tickets are selling out fast.” So off we went.

Melbourne On Our Own

As it turned out, though we had little choice of seats, the ones we got were perfect for the next day’s events. High in the Rod Laver Arena, we had an unimpeded view of the action and were shaded throughout the 100-degree day.

When not at the tournament, we explored what Melbournites call the CBD (Central Business District), the most unique feature of which turned out to be Federation Square, where we had purchased our tickets. A large, gently sloping plaza ringed on three sides by wildly angular structures, reminiscent of a 3D puzzle, the square challenges the senses. "Figure it out” the buildings seem to say. "We dare you." Aussie humor writ large.

Housed within are museums, art galleries, a visitor center, shops, and restaurants. The major action, however, is outside on the plaza. Tickets to the Open being expensive and in short supply, both tourists and locals thronged the square each evening to watch matches on a jumbo screen, preferring the camaraderie of the crowd to more solitary (though undoubtedly more comfy) viewing elsewhere on their own TV’s.

Unexpected Action

The view from our seats in Rod Laver Arena

Federation Square, unusually empty in early morning

After a late night there watching the big-screen action, Bob and I were enjoying a leisurely Saturday morning at an outdoor café when a kilted gentleman strode by in full Scottish regalia. We assumed he was enroute to some private celebration. Soon, however, we began to see large groups of people, even more strangely attired, costumes ranging from Star Wars knock-offs to traditional saris worn by the women of India. Astute travelers that we are, we concluded something was up, followed the flow, and soon found ourselves in the formation area for an Australia Day parade.

We had no idea of the significance of the holiday (January 26th) at the time, but later learned it celebrates the 1787 arrival of the first British fleet in Sydney Harbor. (One would think the fact that the ships carried only convicts no longer welcome in England might temper the celebratory spirit, but such doesn’t seem to be the case.) More than anything, the parade, with the theme “We Are All Family,” was a celebration of diversity. A smattering of the groups represented will give you an idea. “Danish (not pastry) People,” one banner read. And among the others . . . Slovaks in Australia, Falun Dafa (a spiritual group), Chinese Masonic Lion Dance Team, the Wellington Collingwood Knitting Group, Islam Australia, the Australian Ottoman Mehter Band, Vintage Cycle Club of Victoria. The list goes on.

The Proud Diversity of Australia on Parade

After several days spent exploring Melbourne on foot, by tram, and by bus, we were ready to meet our guide and 12 new traveling companions and move on to the next phase of the journey. Gathering at the appointed time in a hotel meeting room, we were given an overview of the trip by Maree Price, tour leader extraordinaire, who brought with her a wealth of experience from previous careers as an army nurse, scuba instructor, and tour boat operator. She needed skills from all of those as she shepherded us through an unforgettable two weeks, always as attentive to individual needs as to those of the entire group. After our initial meeting, Maree escorted us to dinner at a local restaurant, where we had our first taste of kangaroo. (When in Australia, do as the Aussies do.) Kangaroos, we learned, are not bred in captivity, and those who hunt them must have permits to do so.

A tour leader's life is not an easy one. Maree, on right, calls ahead to make sure plans are firm at our next destination while the rest of us take in the view.

After another full day in Melbourne, we flew to Adelaide, where we boarded a small coach that took us to Cleland Wildlife Park. There we walked among kangaroos, giant pelicans, and emus that roam free on the grounds. Other creatures—Tasmanian devils (small critters, but with jaws three times stronger than a pit bull’s) and dingos (an undomesticated dog)—were penned for our protection. Koalas, on the other hand, were penned for their protection—from us.

Feeding the kangaroos at Cleland Wildlife Park

Later that day we checked into our Adelaide hotel and were soon off to the home of a local couple for dinner and conversation. Leith, our host, was a master chef who put the finishing touches on an elaborate meal while Sue filled us in on the history of the area and their families. She pointed out that, unlike Sydney, where the first European immigrants, convicts and their guards, entered the country, Adelaide was settled later by the relatively well-to-do. The area now produces and exports large quantities of olive oil and wine.

The following day, Bob and I took advantage of some free time to ride the tram to Glenelg, a delightfully uncrowded beach town where we took in the small local museum and learned a bit of history—including the fact that early beach regulations banned topless bathing by men! Australia is a land proud to honor the past, and upon returning to Adelaide, we stopped in at the University Museum, which offered displays of boomerangs, early aboriginal weapons and utensils, and—somewhat unexpectedly—a massive exhibit of stuffed African animals.

Into the Outback

Our host and hostess, on left in the two back rows, pose with us before dinner.

The plaza at Glenelg

Inside the Royal Doctors Flying Service visitor center

School of the Air studio

A couple of reptile center inhabitants

According to demographers, approximately 85 percent of Australians live within 50 kilometers (31 miles) of the coast, most of them concentrated in the eastern part of the country. Leaving Adelaide, we boarded a plane for a two-hour flight into the territory peopled by the other 15 percent, a two-hour flight to Alice Springs, a town of about 27,000 in the heart of the Outback. It houses three unique facilities, the Royal Doctors Flying Service, the School of the Air, and the Alice Springs Reptile Center, all of which welcomed us with the usual warm Aussie hospitality.

Maree had told us the Reptile Center would be educational—and entertaining—and suggested we consider carefully whether we wanted to volunteer for the “audience participation” portion of the director’s presentation. She suggested, somewhat mysteriously, that we only volunteer if we were wearing long pants. Otherwise, she said, the experience might be more of an adventure than we bargained for. Heedless of her advice and to the merriment of the group, our friend Derek took on the challenge of a 12-foot python and the rest is history.

Well, he was warned!

Near Alice Springs sits a telegraph station, a hot, dry outpost built in January of 1872 and the first major structure in central Australia. Originally used to boost signals sending Morse code over the empty Outback, the station was manned by at least one operator at all times. When no longer needed for signal boosting, the station was converted to a home for orphaned children but is now maintained strictly as a historical site and tourist attraction. Our guide through the facility was a man who had lived there as a child and tried to teach us, with varying degrees of success, to throw a boomerang.

No mention of Alice Springs would be complete without some reference to the conditions of the Aboriginal population. Like countries everywhere, Australia is beset with issues of poverty, prejudice and injustice. As we rode about this Outback area, it was disheartening to see groups of Aborigines, the original Australians, jobless and hopeless, gathered in the shade of spindly trees to gain relief from the heat. While attempts are being made to better their plight, the rate of progress is glacial, not unlike the slow movement towards equality in the States.

Boomerang Throwing 101

Our guide at the telegraph station lines up novice boomerangers for a quick lesson.

Lindy tells us about life at an Outback cattle station while keeping an eye on nearby activity.

Uluru up close and personal.

An Outback tradition: Champagne at sunset and an inverted image of Uluru in your glass

Uluru Bound

Leaving Alice Springs via minibus, we traveled towards renowned Ayers Rock, more commonly known in Australia by its Aboriginal name, Uluru. We stopped midway at Curtin Springs, a working cattle station (we'd call it a ranch), which doubled as a rest stop with a small store, restaurant, campsites, and sleeping accommodations. While an emu took a leisurely stroll about the compound, we were treated to snacks and soda and a too-brief talk (Uluru beckoned) by Lindy, one of the proprietors, who spoke about her family’s life there and the challenges of life in the Outback.

We arrived at Uluru in the afternoon, checked into the Outback Pioneer Hotel, and drove to the base of Uluru. A sacred site venerated for generations by the Aborigines, the monolith and environs are strictly regulated by the government.  From a distance, of course, the massive formation appears to be the vertically ridged iconic rock we all know from photographs. Up close, however, the story is very different. Walking around the base, we saw caves (many identified by small signs explaining their significance during early Aboriginal days), natural piles of small rocks, even an unlikely streambed. That evening, we and  a parking lot full of other travelers engaged in a local tradition: champagne and snacks as we watched the sun set and the changing colors of Uluru as darkness descended.

Even more spectacular was sunrise the following morning when we piled out of bed in darkness to go to another viewing spot and watch Uluru turn from a dusky brown to brilliant red, this time playing to a much smaller crowd. Three of our number, Bob among them, then struck out for a six-mile hike around Uluru’s base while the rest of us opted for a more leisurely time before returning to pick them up. After collecting the hikers, we stopped briefly at Kata Tjuta (meaning many heads), a striking rock conglomerate of 30-plus rounded masses rising from the desert floor. The Aborigines associate many Dreamtime (creation) stories with this formation and myths abound.

Uluru at Sunrise

Uluru changes color quickly at dawn. The photos below were taken over a period of less than 7 minutes from an observation deck built especially for early morning viewing.

Leaving the Outback, we flew to Cairnes where we boarded a minibus for the 40-mile drive to the sprawling Sea Temple Resort (with an enormous—and inviting—lagoon pool) in Port Douglas. The pool, however, was not the main attraction, as we had come to this area to visit the Great Barrier Reef. The day after arriving in Port Douglas, we boarded a 200-passenger ship for a day cruise, tied up to a double-deck “pontoon” above the reef, and donned thin black lycra body suits before entering the water to snorkel above the one of the world's natural treasures. 

Whereas the Great Barrier Reef is the most famous draw to this area, the next two days brought unexpected pleasures. We went first to Cooper Creek Wilderness, a privately owned reserve in the Daintree Rainforest. There, we divided into two groups to be led by the owners, Neal and Pru, for a walk through the lush vegetation. The walk was punctuated by frequent stops, during which they offered a wealth of information on the interdependence of species, both plants and animals, in that unique ecosystem.

The following day brought another visit to Daintree, this time to Mossman Gorge, still in the possession of indigenous folks who are keeping traditions alive while opening the area to visitors. We were led by a young man who introduced us to Aboriginal customs and beliefs as he spoke about the natural world we were seeing. A special treat came at the end of his tour, when he demonstrated a variety of techniques as he played the didgeridoo. 

The boat that took us to the Great Barrier Reef, as seen from the double-decker pontoon it tied up to.

Neal, our guide at Cooper Creek Wilderness

Skip, our guide at Mossman Gorge

In Sydney, safety fabric surrounds a renovation reminding passersby of the tower getting a facelift.

A local musician takes a break from the didgeridoo to pose for a photo with a young visitor in a public square in Sydney.

Winding Down

Reluctantly entering the final phase of our trip, we flew the next day to Sydney, our last Australian destination. There, after a minibus tour of the city and a boat tour of the harbor, we did the major “must-see,” the Sydney Opera House, where our guide seated us in the balcony and invited us to sing. “That way you can all say you’ve sung in the Sydney Opera House,” she pointed out. Imaginative souls (or not) that we are, we burst out with “Happy Birthday” and gave ourselves a round of applause.

The following day, our last before the long flight home, was a free day. We visited the Australian Museum where we took in a traveling exhibit on Alexander the Great as well as portions of the permanent exhibits and roamed the central business district on foot and by bus. In the early evening, we joined Maree and our fellow travelers for champagne and farewells on the hotel rooftop. There, Bob handed out copies of the words to “Waltzing Matilda” and led us in song—joined by a couple of smokers who happened to be there, mistakenly thinking they’d enjoy a little rooftop peace and quiet while they enjoyed their cigarettes. We closed out the evening with a farewell dinner at the harbor before returning to pack for the journey home.

Having fallen in love with the friendly Aussie people, we boarded the plane the following for the 14-hour return flight, taking along memories of new friends and spectacular places . . . and a new vocabulary. Here's an example:

G'day, mate.

Fascinating Facts/Australia

Photo Gallery/Australia

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Two weeks of this trip were taken with Overseas Adventure Travel (OAT). To obtain a referral discount for first-time travel
on any OAT trip, contact Marj via the “Contact Marj” form on the home page.
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