tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27482063592485470282024-02-07T17:26:24.890+11:00travelling allriteThe journal of a travel addict.allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.comBlogger693125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-8185690572073219112023-09-25T11:14:00.004+10:002023-09-25T11:14:58.248+10:00Travelling allrite is moving<p> I've migrated most of the content to <a href="https://allrite.at">allrite@</a> (https://allrite.at) so please follow me there.</p>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-10377564863637401372023-08-31T17:44:00.000+10:002023-08-31T17:45:22.551+10:00Wattle and cherry blossom<p><br></p><p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></p><p>On the last days of winter, Canberra blooms with the yellow of wattle and the pink and white of cherry blossoms. Public servants and consultants dressed in black scuttle past having bought their morning coffees and now heading off to work. I sit in a Max Brenner drinking thick hot chocolate to ward off the chill before driving home to my own distant office.</p><p>I have met my team for the first time in at least five years, members flying up from Melbourne, down from Brisbane and driving, like me, from Sydney to visit the largest group of us in Canberra. It is good to see some again and meet others for the first time.</p><p>The drive from Sydney is mostly unremarkable, traffic thinning out as I leave the city. My only stop is by Lake George, to briefly marvel at the flat fullness of the water before continuing on. I could have flown, but travel policy means taking the cheapest fares and that is on a Link Airways Saab 340 turboprop. If I was to fly I want a little luxury and not run the risk of raising fears for my upcoming flights to Korea.</p><p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></p><p>Past the wattles, the rows of cherry trees, in contrast to the brown and grey bareness of the other deciduous plantings of this planned city. I turn into our offices opposite the university I studied most of my degree at.</p><p>It is an enjoyable day, talking work, exploring the engineering behind a modern lab building and watching a bushfire experiment in a custom built wind tunnel. </p><p>When I drop my colleagues at our hotel I discover that there are no carparks available there and the others are all four hour maximum stays. I have to park near the top of the Canberra Centre, a dollar cheaper than the hotel, but a twenty minute walk away. I pass them heading out for dinner as I walk back to check in and drop off my things.</p><p>Dinner is at Akiba, a sixty dollar per head tasting menu that is interesting but not entirely to my liking. It's loud, making conversation a bit difficult, and I am tired. Yet when I return to my hotel room I struggle to sleep, then wake up too early.</p><p>By the end of the second day I can barely keep my eyes open. It is fortunate that we end early in order to take the interstate visitors to their flights home. It's raining outside and when Alex calls me, having had to come home alone, he tells me there is a loud storm over our house. Once again I am thankful that I did not choose to fly. </p><p>I drive back to the Canberra Centre and park, taking the time to wander through the shops, buy some Lego omiyage for the rest of the family at home, dream of an Apple computer. Though it is still early I decide to eat dinner and save myself a later walk. Pappa Rich has $10 nasi lemak meals to celebrate Malaysian independence day. It's nice, their satay is okay, but their hot Milo is a pissweak disappointment.</p><p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></p><p>Back at the hotel I relax in a way I cannot do at home. I switch on the television, watch Hard Quiz, watch the latest episode of Ahsoka on my iPad, do some language practice, some slow kata. Shower, relax, go to bed early. But while brushing my teeth I see myself in the fogged up mirror. My eye colours are inverted, glowing yellow dots surrounded by black rings and a white annulus. A poorly rotoscoped image of a possession. </p><p>Although I cannot sleep in, I get up late, read a chapter of a book, snuggle in bed and take my time. My only breakfast is that hot chocolate, then it is time to return to the car for the drive home.</p><p>The traffic is not bad on the highway, not so many idiots at this time of day. I think about taking my time and stopping along the way, but I do want to get home.</p><p>When I reach our house there are tradesmen installing the shower screen glass and a mirror that is hopefully free of possession. There are doors to repaint and a son who is desperate to finish building a catapult for a school project. Should I go early to karate to help? No, kid needs help at home. Life is back to normal after another too-short break.</p><p>The blossoms are already wilting.</p>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-10640099150101013752023-04-09T21:25:00.002+10:002023-04-09T21:25:37.165+10:00One night in Canberra<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRIohtHNIno-xQv8MtaF6_ViEtrN2VsxiHBQXoZN6PzOSQX40xQqCdOx-HQEsl3-CNBWY3OOaHP9Gv-e7ynrzG6hnHpEf_9_Vokofd72RszTlIRT9vtC-PU7IpvACvc6AQI5_9YM3uX12Kc4TZD3c3hDFRKorpf-h3hwh0Hi-ih84I4mjK0DTKXT_0g/s4080/PXL_20230408_051417619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRIohtHNIno-xQv8MtaF6_ViEtrN2VsxiHBQXoZN6PzOSQX40xQqCdOx-HQEsl3-CNBWY3OOaHP9Gv-e7ynrzG6hnHpEf_9_Vokofd72RszTlIRT9vtC-PU7IpvACvc6AQI5_9YM3uX12Kc4TZD3c3hDFRKorpf-h3hwh0Hi-ih84I4mjK0DTKXT_0g/w640-h482/PXL_20230408_051417619.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>It's the April school holidays and we are too busy to have a break but need one because of that. And because it's the Easter weekend the options are limited, so we just drive down to Canberra for the night.</p><p>No, this isn't our first trip for 2023. <a href="https://allrite.au/tag/japan2023/">I wrote about Japan on another site</a>. </p><p>I refuse to wake up early so we depart after 8.30 AM.</p><p>There is not much to say about the drive except that the clouds seem so low and Lake George is very full. We stop at a rest area and at the lookout up the hill to take it all in.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFRY0XcefOo8DGumyKJxyEYTqQYAZH7NwGtQ9Ub1AYTslM4itaa2wKn4epsTm5SVN3-D2rFxUtaIrVCdB8rtuatnBWIGJRTID9XRvmpOVEnhYdVScCz1si3uYcCM0cNUAJebMRwYw6hfQRdjzHe5RtEYmNDLdviqTCRaxjVrVvcay_Qo5ylr-0-vRQKg/s4080/PXL_20230408_011932948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFRY0XcefOo8DGumyKJxyEYTqQYAZH7NwGtQ9Ub1AYTslM4itaa2wKn4epsTm5SVN3-D2rFxUtaIrVCdB8rtuatnBWIGJRTID9XRvmpOVEnhYdVScCz1si3uYcCM0cNUAJebMRwYw6hfQRdjzHe5RtEYmNDLdviqTCRaxjVrVvcay_Qo5ylr-0-vRQKg/w640-h482/PXL_20230408_011932948.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN_3n195ly2YQC6tEglKtiXoDUYJDKHgm2envwt_DoO5PwBMsIlMJzBWDI9WpWl5jtBhjygFRdF9ev8ZX96u39MzhDUdmBjtHSF6XDA8Mxn2EFLYp-YaxCQhA6BZ8w0LWGkxxf1Pvhvt3cfH0x1rOjfJGuYCfj9KG4stXfIW-yYFQhdtdxqlrjes9tKg/s4080/PXL_20230408_013040936.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN_3n195ly2YQC6tEglKtiXoDUYJDKHgm2envwt_DoO5PwBMsIlMJzBWDI9WpWl5jtBhjygFRdF9ev8ZX96u39MzhDUdmBjtHSF6XDA8Mxn2EFLYp-YaxCQhA6BZ8w0LWGkxxf1Pvhvt3cfH0x1rOjfJGuYCfj9KG4stXfIW-yYFQhdtdxqlrjes9tKg/w640-h482/PXL_20230408_013040936.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN6CWBT3j0ApiGXTVZbusQbOMXcxj2b611EA93_wpGZwTEb2ErYeLWcICATMbKl3gNWVHlbrhez1aHEvC0-0c_weUtKIlTxsKwxQbYm1ylCJziODmrvXZloEO9Evk0QjooPbGISMMy6CjUtbNgzrvhel1IozAAi5OZZ7gH4BMDabI-1UufAUPvYMB5jg/s4080/PXL_20230408_013140427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN6CWBT3j0ApiGXTVZbusQbOMXcxj2b611EA93_wpGZwTEb2ErYeLWcICATMbKl3gNWVHlbrhez1aHEvC0-0c_weUtKIlTxsKwxQbYm1ylCJziODmrvXZloEO9Evk0QjooPbGISMMy6CjUtbNgzrvhel1IozAAi5OZZ7gH4BMDabI-1UufAUPvYMB5jg/w640-h482/PXL_20230408_013140427.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Everyone is hungry so we first stop in Dickson and then can't think of anything to eat, so I drive us to Civic, where we can't decide and end up eating at the Singaporean Killiney Kopitiam branch. </p><p>The Canberra Centre has nice shops. I dream of getting an iPad from the Apple Store, we buy a blanket and toothbrushes from Muji and wish that Lego wasn't so expensive.</p><p>Nothing we can't get in Sydney, but then we rarely go out shopping in the city.</p><p>It's been decades since I last visited the Australian National Botanic Gardens and the other two never have. The weather is cool, but dry, as we walk through groves of Australian native plants. A water dragon poses by a waterfall before swimming off, body waving side to side. Another larger lizard with gorgeously coloured scales suns itself on a rock. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMkZcZJpyy5TgntRf-Z6STc5tDb_cppk7bpDFA8MdpcJguyFh9q5QaCN-mgXjUzB0H4p53oRe3nyw3opY0cs5S6hFb0b0cc8XCAR23_o4DyHTl9XaV-pZx6e_RCuYzd17BJ6KNrltVsMZiDCgsbojGDI0chuyjiDOLHAgt-DczhDYa9ci4fHSEbTybuQ/s4080/PXL_20230408_050346308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMkZcZJpyy5TgntRf-Z6STc5tDb_cppk7bpDFA8MdpcJguyFh9q5QaCN-mgXjUzB0H4p53oRe3nyw3opY0cs5S6hFb0b0cc8XCAR23_o4DyHTl9XaV-pZx6e_RCuYzd17BJ6KNrltVsMZiDCgsbojGDI0chuyjiDOLHAgt-DczhDYa9ci4fHSEbTybuQ/w640-h482/PXL_20230408_050346308.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSghm_RJ7P8tCeCUSx7aXC4pz-ncVvEEFIYBuwN7ITRVKf_edkdDLrC7r2HH0kwmRBiTXKzXXPDl8PHSXPCGZRanlpFAjJ5u9jI89awtWL30n1TMbKUh0yhM7qhJY8DK45VYi8At651G8IeQ9d9ltZeRyVS-fe6zgBY_9bSmQNf-fLuCUYyNEAf5McxQ/s4080/PXL_20230408_050548703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSghm_RJ7P8tCeCUSx7aXC4pz-ncVvEEFIYBuwN7ITRVKf_edkdDLrC7r2HH0kwmRBiTXKzXXPDl8PHSXPCGZRanlpFAjJ5u9jI89awtWL30n1TMbKUh0yhM7qhJY8DK45VYi8At651G8IeQ9d9ltZeRyVS-fe6zgBY_9bSmQNf-fLuCUYyNEAf5McxQ/w640-h482/PXL_20230408_050548703.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>The rich scent of the eucalyptus trees brings back memories, as does the sight of a Sturt Desert Pea in the Martian sand of the Red Centre Garden, overlooked by the currently inaccessible Black Mountain Tower.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWHyDN_8RQLzt7vc_7VXOmxU4ejmzB9E8BhXbnydxuHHeYiAmjDZUgLFLvGID9bDsqEFqHY8bKfsytCxt-ZLCeTfNHEQUoZFcN8oNPxNolzbch9xMjadBfUt9keIVGrBFBw4HYvrJcS4ShgSs-mqYNSQk19Srlkwuvx60ff-W7WLV1r-LMex2vyudS-A/s4080/PXL_20230408_051631668.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWHyDN_8RQLzt7vc_7VXOmxU4ejmzB9E8BhXbnydxuHHeYiAmjDZUgLFLvGID9bDsqEFqHY8bKfsytCxt-ZLCeTfNHEQUoZFcN8oNPxNolzbch9xMjadBfUt9keIVGrBFBw4HYvrJcS4ShgSs-mqYNSQk19Srlkwuvx60ff-W7WLV1r-LMex2vyudS-A/w640-h482/PXL_20230408_051631668.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>The highlight is the cool filtered light of the magical Rainforest Gully, reminding me of why I loved to visit the gardens as a student at the university across the road. It's also good, because Alex is doing an assignment about the rainforest and can relate the reality with his reading.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NqCb7TWOZX7f53pI7OcuIS-nEpt_Z8bPLBxkjBIAba_GUStReTDOYXGCNMOEQ-32sjLMavXeWaMAhkuxZ2vgt-FCxzCvZh2wiVkynfle6xkOBLrm7a_TAl2aN2Zi_hSfr8TvFUXZYfe0sp75iBstLaaYhrhm40aV7VEZDqlWPUEXu67mq1DhtE8Mpw/s4080/PXL_20230408_054245423.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NqCb7TWOZX7f53pI7OcuIS-nEpt_Z8bPLBxkjBIAba_GUStReTDOYXGCNMOEQ-32sjLMavXeWaMAhkuxZ2vgt-FCxzCvZh2wiVkynfle6xkOBLrm7a_TAl2aN2Zi_hSfr8TvFUXZYfe0sp75iBstLaaYhrhm40aV7VEZDqlWPUEXu67mq1DhtE8Mpw/w640-h482/PXL_20230408_054245423.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>We return exhausted to check into the Pavilion Hotel along Northbourne Avenue. The staff are friendly, but the hotel is showing its age. The annex, beneath a tent roof, smells of damp, a consequence of the plants in the atrium. Our room is tired, the televisions small and old. But it is comfortable and our room has a jacuzzi spa, the jets massaging away the aches of a term of karate.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitpu8VfZ3F5aWIgVoQm2D4PJ0afdLV-GI4sp0yD-nO_UiEAoVzM0eBnrPQ4XsYTxe06MYobX5Wyp3oZrb-_O6flTPZlWxuvv5z_IpbNYwG_xRfubhFzQGjAGIVltUPZCxZDNGmpHDsCiKv1YhE51ANdVBzlzABYECOV2ANb4fsSC6gzRd_MAxaDlsgOA/s4080/PXL_20230408_094414460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitpu8VfZ3F5aWIgVoQm2D4PJ0afdLV-GI4sp0yD-nO_UiEAoVzM0eBnrPQ4XsYTxe06MYobX5Wyp3oZrb-_O6flTPZlWxuvv5z_IpbNYwG_xRfubhFzQGjAGIVltUPZCxZDNGmpHDsCiKv1YhE51ANdVBzlzABYECOV2ANb4fsSC6gzRd_MAxaDlsgOA/w640-h482/PXL_20230408_094414460.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>I would love to just order room service or dine in the hotel, but it is expensive, so we drive out to the adjacent suburb of Braddon, where crowds have gathered beneath the colourful lamps strung up in the trees above the streets. Many places are full or just too expensive, and we settle on a dumpling restaurant that is almost the latter, despite having eaten Asian food for lunch. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cFrpIjNc6jwoFHHmV5rvroKvm-9ZEQNVlADyS4MKORQ_PowkK-msHC6z0GQ8s7NpMidtdlhVAaXOymP6YjGGDhU9IzF-8IUNj1BVx-Psm_b8fUv83u0btx-_ClqyBUP4EG9D-t0n3elTR4k-nXYyM3R_OP4VJjkrwmDs-gnVE5PiG5g-pEsXKmMzfQ/s4080/PXL_20230408_091732271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cFrpIjNc6jwoFHHmV5rvroKvm-9ZEQNVlADyS4MKORQ_PowkK-msHC6z0GQ8s7NpMidtdlhVAaXOymP6YjGGDhU9IzF-8IUNj1BVx-Psm_b8fUv83u0btx-_ClqyBUP4EG9D-t0n3elTR4k-nXYyM3R_OP4VJjkrwmDs-gnVE5PiG5g-pEsXKmMzfQ/w640-h482/PXL_20230408_091732271.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>As a treat I pay for a buffet breakfast at the hotel. I rather like the pastries and the fruit salad at the Pavilion, but we run into B's Mum and her partner at the breakfast. They have caught the train to Canberra the day before.</p><p>Initially the plan was to take Alex to Questacon, but the science museum is fully booked in the morning and we can't seem to buy tickets for the afternoon. Instead we go to the Old Bus Depot Markets. It's full of the usual Australian market craft, jewellery and jams, but there are a few items of special interest and we buy a couple of pop art prints.</p><p>Adjacent to the markets, in an old coal power station, are the glassworks. Not only do they have some beautiful glass artworks for sale, but you can watch them being made in the workshops and learn about the process. It's quite fascinating. </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZh9Ghrj14EBgmyenVgscuq5StJ-HzH2GEh9hyfGK62iqNzXMIjJv32POX46oqA58Z04qfDh2ZnwR3LCd0mOwwmjoFn6Akpo4rO-lHPCr0SaM1E9xj1pBmiGHni7IbbOGBm5toddA4yET2tbA-Bo8ZVLM5nnedygreb3e1RrcsRFP7VftKF8Jf6Q5pQ/s4080/PXL_20230409_011829154.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZh9Ghrj14EBgmyenVgscuq5StJ-HzH2GEh9hyfGK62iqNzXMIjJv32POX46oqA58Z04qfDh2ZnwR3LCd0mOwwmjoFn6Akpo4rO-lHPCr0SaM1E9xj1pBmiGHni7IbbOGBm5toddA4yET2tbA-Bo8ZVLM5nnedygreb3e1RrcsRFP7VftKF8Jf6Q5pQ/w640-h482/PXL_20230409_011829154.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Canberra has many small places I've never heard of before. One is the <a href="https://www.yarraps.com.au/">Yarralumla Play Station</a>, where a couple of putt-putt golf courses are enclosed by a working miniature railway, along with a kids farm and some old passenger carriages. We giggle along on the Canberra themed golf course as Bluebell, a train even slower than the one from Sydney to Canberra, carries passengers in circles around us.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNFmiSPJE88218NLtMpW1tWLkCGDdfV7OP__mcsF3DQN5p1wlXQDuBReuXi_O3ON6C-V3ODIfWMVdzVR9E8HAJWCO2QZbyIhlfjYexCzhqTyYK6kzYGe8bd8N6i5_CA8Jw8-ofc5bJRj9L2WKgMAzsIcH6biZtDqu4fgLtPbEd5VD8LGWjnD1AYEsdQ/s4080/PXL_20230409_021142549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNFmiSPJE88218NLtMpW1tWLkCGDdfV7OP__mcsF3DQN5p1wlXQDuBReuXi_O3ON6C-V3ODIfWMVdzVR9E8HAJWCO2QZbyIhlfjYexCzhqTyYK6kzYGe8bd8N6i5_CA8Jw8-ofc5bJRj9L2WKgMAzsIcH6biZtDqu4fgLtPbEd5VD8LGWjnD1AYEsdQ/w640-h482/PXL_20230409_021142549.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Originally we wanted to go for a drive on the long weekend. I suggest we take a different way back to Sydney instead of the too-familiar Federal Highway. Instead we head out through Queanbeyan to Bungendore, following the Molonglo River past the pine plantations. </p><p>Being Easter Sunday, not much is open. Everyone is starving, hangry, so we dine in a full pub. The food is wonderful, expensive. </p><p>Now too full, we continue past Tarago with Lake George now on our left as we go on the other side of it and the wind turbines that surround the lake. It's pretty rural scenery, rolling golden hills on our right, bright green fields of lucerne on our left.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2dcD0XZvPLsYUWuvY162lQG6pcm7At503RVZbvvwg_L36u4ylwp11cQMmQO6CZRwOy9gPFE6KLmWDVg5gosaMl4DL7Ofl8qxktbcbV6kID2h5076FY4K8bP0fpFds-uySFk-Uy913PKyC14iVq-VaRYlZTMSYb-Uz1W1H6jgIkfIT6yYGg94sFeZrw/s4080/PXL_20230409_053325157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2dcD0XZvPLsYUWuvY162lQG6pcm7At503RVZbvvwg_L36u4ylwp11cQMmQO6CZRwOy9gPFE6KLmWDVg5gosaMl4DL7Ofl8qxktbcbV6kID2h5076FY4K8bP0fpFds-uySFk-Uy913PKyC14iVq-VaRYlZTMSYb-Uz1W1H6jgIkfIT6yYGg94sFeZrw/w640-h482/PXL_20230409_053325157.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>The state of the roads is mostly poor, with potholes and uneven surfaces. Roadworks in one section mean that we are driving on gravel.</p><p>Eventually we arrive at Goulburn and join the motorway back to Sydney. The traffic is heavy and as we near Menangle it slows to a crawl, before speeding up again. We arrive home tired, still full, having had a brief escape from the house before the grind begins again.</p>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-1545317306795220882022-12-30T17:04:00.003+11:002022-12-30T17:04:44.828+11:00A selection of jams<p>We're home now. The last two days of our Brisbane trip involved a lot of driving but not always much movement.</p><p>On Wednesday we arranged to met Sis and her family at Robina Town Centre, a massive shopping mall. That meant a drive down towards the Gold Coast along the same motorway we'd driven up along.</p><p>What should have taken an hour took twice that due to the holiday traffic along the 3 and 4 lane road. Lots of people taking the turn-offs to three of the "Worlds" (Wet'n'Wild, Movie World and Dreamworld). </p><p>The Town Centre hosts <i>Artvo</i>, a trick photography gallery where you use perspectives to make subjects look like they are part of the artwork. It was surprisingly fun, despite the aversion of we males to being the subjects of photos.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3NWJNDaUKSZL6SYUE_8sMIJYEILrCBJJZBU8-y6RU4MWREFtL9jA3YPLGLQbGNP49w9_DwlzJ7XihV1LTY2_mtB-I-f_8yJxfy-oAA7J6zqpK_z9yXBhF2BT28t7p-m0otWaUBi5aQzj1gDngolp1lgFJLEHUJ6PKuf6cxKuJokMIU94kGwa97ygHww/s4080/PXL_20221228_023656394.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3NWJNDaUKSZL6SYUE_8sMIJYEILrCBJJZBU8-y6RU4MWREFtL9jA3YPLGLQbGNP49w9_DwlzJ7XihV1LTY2_mtB-I-f_8yJxfy-oAA7J6zqpK_z9yXBhF2BT28t7p-m0otWaUBi5aQzj1gDngolp1lgFJLEHUJ6PKuf6cxKuJokMIU94kGwa97ygHww/w482-h640/PXL_20221228_023656394.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Afterwards we had a long chat over lunch, which was sourced from a variety of eateries. I had roti and chicken curry from <i>Roti and Buns</i>. Passable, though the curry was more laksa like.</p><p>We later took Sis to <i>Daiso</i> and she and her husband tried <i>Grapefruit Gokuri</i>. Neither of them appreciated it like me.</p><p>By the time we said our farewells we were exhausted and glad to be done with family for another year. </p><p>Thankfully, the drive back to our hotel in the city was much faster and jam free. </p><p>Dinner was a hotpot and tteokbokki at Maru, a very popular Korean restaurant in the city.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIE9KaFCaD98R33J-NbvocxFsHaXX1PjpCXnTftbCC8Fx81j_7lyW5BvaiTBBjftgrCViUxre8yNiX1f_tZ6YiG0Q-QqSxrzMqIXrPkuEtNrcHWFAgDBpF7pGZq2Vus8CNtgAZquu0botGYdG0oDX7AY62i6ql315Nk8_hccOrL6aNr5P-K2x3tOA48w/s4080/PXL_20221228_082959503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIE9KaFCaD98R33J-NbvocxFsHaXX1PjpCXnTftbCC8Fx81j_7lyW5BvaiTBBjftgrCViUxre8yNiX1f_tZ6YiG0Q-QqSxrzMqIXrPkuEtNrcHWFAgDBpF7pGZq2Vus8CNtgAZquu0botGYdG0oDX7AY62i6ql315Nk8_hccOrL6aNr5P-K2x3tOA48w/w640-h482/PXL_20221228_082959503.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>We departed the hotel at a quarter to eight in the morning, an achievement considering the night before. Back again down the motor, fortunately a lot quieter than the previous day. </p><p>After three and a half hours driving we stopped at Halfway Creek for petrol and a lunch of meaty hamburgers.</p><p>At Coffs Harbour we hit our first traffic jam, leaving and rejoining the highway around an alternative route that felt quite familiar from our previous stay in the city. Fortunately, it was only a short jam and we were soon on our way again.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPdSgWiKAL7wBgqsrrll_Mt_NeDHS6CFNouBRrkc7cf_oGvYfCZAg-VRTRd7nRVF2OduLlMyDxuYk0KBzinigXPLXd6kYg5wv1v-txOSj87_DI0Z0N-IVfUPL7NBp_QprwEmAtXer4g_PKm_BeexrAM1iV-OcPpWdRVvJmr0i8nolbTXYDST58oSPS-w/s4080/PXL_20221229_030543538.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPdSgWiKAL7wBgqsrrll_Mt_NeDHS6CFNouBRrkc7cf_oGvYfCZAg-VRTRd7nRVF2OduLlMyDxuYk0KBzinigXPLXd6kYg5wv1v-txOSj87_DI0Z0N-IVfUPL7NBp_QprwEmAtXer4g_PKm_BeexrAM1iV-OcPpWdRVvJmr0i8nolbTXYDST58oSPS-w/w640-h482/PXL_20221229_030543538.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Three and a quarter hours of driving and we made another bathroom stop and driver change at Coolongolook. I already felt the stirrings of a migraine and took some paracetamol before getting behind the wheel.</p><p>Traffic built up the further south we got. We made it through Hexham and on to the Pacific Motorway without too much drama. It's not a fun drive, with aggressive utes and luxury cars tailgating in the right lane, trucks in the left and vacillating Volkswagens in the middle.</p><p>From around Mount White the traffic came to a crawl due to a truck fire earlier near Cowes. It was stop start and when we did move it was usually at less than two hours. We should have taken the turnoff at Mooney Mooney bridge to get on to the Old Pacific Highway, but I'm not very familiar with the area.</p><p>By now my migraine had exploded and Alex's bladder was about to. I just wanted to close my eyes and sleep, but we were trapped in the traffic. Eventually, B spotted a some open ground to the left of the highway and we pulled off.</p><p>While Alex used the cover of grass, I tried to puke my guts out. B took over driving duties and I shut my eyes. But even that wasn't enough. Each headlight and streetlight was a painful stab through my eyelids. Finally, after two hours, we passed the accident site and the traffic opened up again. It was now dark outside and B was unfamiliar with driving this section of the road. Fortunately, all you have to do is keep left to enter the Northconnex tunnel. The GPS and Alex helped. </p><p>We made it home 2 hours late, or around 13 hours since our departure from Brisbane. We had had no dinner and were too exhausted to go out and buy some from the few restaurants still open, so it was just two-minute noodles for the other two.</p><p>It was so good to be home, but if I had known of the pain ahead I would have tried harder to book some accommodation along the way. Unfortunately, it is peak holiday season and the coastal towns were almost all fully booked. </p><p>I think we are done for both family and driving north for now.</p>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-78361466970056314732022-12-27T23:27:00.000+11:002022-12-27T23:27:59.743+11:00Sis at South Bank It's been over four years since I last saw my sister and her family. In that time that family has grown is both size and number. <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br><div><br></div><div>In fact, she was the reason for this trip. They drove south from Rockhampton while we drove north from Sydney.</div><div><br></div><div>We arrange to meet at the Queensland Museum across the river. The regular museum exhibits are free, including the preserved giant squid, but we pay extra for the Sparklab science centre and the Magic of Disney exhibition.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>And so arrives that challenge of wrangling four adults, two teenagers, three children and one stroller around a busy museum.</div><div><br></div><div>Sparklab is pretty fun, nothing we haven't encountered in science centres before but a good selection demonstrating a range of scientific principles. The Disney exhibition is pretty disappointing unless you are obsessed with their animation techniques through the ages. Very little interactivity.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Starving this late in the day, we walk across the South Bank food area for lunch and exchange belated Christmas presents. Then Alex and my sister's family all jump in the lagoon for some water play. It looks like fun by they emerge cold and wet.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>It is surprisingly late in the day, so we walk back to the car park with my sister and agree to meet up again tomorrow.</div><div><br></div><div>Exhausted and free of the constant need for chatter, we struggle to decide where we will eat dinner, eventually heading further away from our hotel to trendy West End.</div><div><br></div><div>Many eateries are still closed for the public holiday, but we eventually find Izakaya Goko. It's not the best Japanese food we've eaten, but it's nice to sit down and have some cold drinks</div><div><br></div><div>We return to the hotel under skies of orange and deepening azure with a backdrop of bulging tropical clouds. From our hotel room's window we admire them further, the lights of the landmarks, of the waxing moon. It is a lovely end to the day.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div></div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-69294445863948438112022-12-26T23:48:00.000+11:002022-12-26T23:48:10.429+11:00Boxing Day in BrisbaneNo post Christmas recovery for us. We walk up to Queen Street Mall again in search of breakfast. The Boxing Day sale crowds were building as the shops began to open.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Brisbane's city centre feels large and impressive, but also a bit like some of the more modern parts of Singapore. The tropical heat and humidity certainly assists with that impression.</div><div><br></div><div>The others eat McDonalds for breakfast, I had a slice of Christmas cake in the hotel.</div><div><br></div><div>We buy some clothes from Uniqlo, browse a few other stores, hunt for a Malaysian cafe that turns out to be too fried to eat now. After more shopping and wandering it is now vaguely lunch time, so we try Roti Place.</div><div><br></div><div>The roti is crispy and sweet, the curry salty, the har mee spicy, the Hainanese chicken okay. My favourite is the oatmeal chicken.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>On the way back to the hotel we stop by bookstores looking for the next book in a series for Alex. On the third try we locate a single copy.</div><div><br></div><div>It's back to the hotel room for an afternoon sleep and a chance to catch up on the Boxing Day cricket test score.</div><div><br></div><div>The day is waning when we re-emerge and cross the river to the Southbank. It's a lovely time to walk, huge tropical clouds framed by the city skyline.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div><div>We stroll along the southern riverbank. There is the Nepalese Peace Pavilion, from Expo '88. Happy memories.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>The lagoon pool is busy with kids splashing, adults sunbathing on the sand beside it. Alex regrets that he is too old now for the playgrounds and water play equipment. He would have loved it when he was younger.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>It is time to find some dinner as rain spits down from a passing cloud. So many choices! After much wandering and indecision we settle on Olez a Spanish restaurant, choosing tapas and paella. It is quite delicious and a change from our usual cuisines.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Our path back to the hotel takes us further back along the river, past the illuminated MAGOMA museum of modern art and across the Kurilpa Bridge. The top of the bridge looks like the rigging of an old sailing vessel, the walkway could make for a great Star Wars set.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>It is with relief and tired feet that we return to our room, having enjoyed both exercise and exploration of this northern capital.</div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-24351307699772128882022-12-25T21:12:00.001+11:002022-12-25T21:12:03.067+11:00Up to Brissy for Chrissy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br><div>It's Christmas Day. We are celebrating it alone as a family, the presents were opened yesterday, our lunch was leftovers turned into a salad and our dinner was Hungry Jacks. But the tiny Christmas tree from home sits on the hotel room desk, wrapped with colourful battery powered lights. There's pudding and custard, cherries and mangoes, plus lots of chocolate. And we are on holidays!<div><br></div><div>Outside the hotel room window is a view of the Brisbane River, with bridges and buildings on the Southbank lit up in Christmas colours. There were crowds of people admiring the tree and lights out the front of the Brisbane Town Hall. I expected the city to be dead on Christmas night, but no, it's buzzing.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I'm exhausted after the drive north. I had a rough sleep, dreamed I was flying and swimming in the South Pacific. Then I cracked a molar while eating Christmas cake! This is totally unfair because I just had a lower molar repaired earlier in the week.</div><div><br></div><div>The traffic was moderate leaving Sydney and never entirely let up. B and I took turns driving, which was nice because I had time to nap and look out the window.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>We stopped at South Kempsey to eat the leftovers of a pre-Christmas Eve roast lunch converted into a salad. Only McDonalds and KFC were open, no Fredo's Crocodile Pies today.</div><div><br></div><div>The rivers were high, the canefields bright green as we headed north, overtaking Kias and in turn being overtaken by Subarus and giant utes.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>The weather turned grey and showery once we crossed the border into Queensland. The traffic was also very heavy, possibly residents heading out to Christmas dinner with relatives or home after a long lunch. </div><div><br></div><div>Once we had unloaded our luggage we set out to find some Christmas dinner and were surprised that there were places open, despite my fears.</div><div><br></div><div>So now, at last, it's time to relax and enjoy what little remains of Christmas.</div><div><br></div></div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-67263488974350665072022-10-07T19:20:00.000+11:002022-10-07T19:20:02.909+11:00Nelson Bay<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJSUYClVrhTD_PBVg_gFTUWjoVEgBImVcCUIqOwq6Tx1y3DJWtWv1WVbpI--k_BgRuMPcjiXcF1vESf24jiqjUHpZ0z2kTiBNRoQTqeoqE4hGC4EbJZh5q4r30cvEYpIacFa9XxK_F1x9k0cmm57ik5x0G0sVudBTUkoPLv-CzPfvg6I-135d0mZ0LGw/s5333/DSC_5081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJSUYClVrhTD_PBVg_gFTUWjoVEgBImVcCUIqOwq6Tx1y3DJWtWv1WVbpI--k_BgRuMPcjiXcF1vESf24jiqjUHpZ0z2kTiBNRoQTqeoqE4hGC4EbJZh5q4r30cvEYpIacFa9XxK_F1x9k0cmm57ik5x0G0sVudBTUkoPLv-CzPfvg6I-135d0mZ0LGw/w640-h360/DSC_5081.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>A relative's wedding right in the middle of the spring school holidays ruined our chances for a decent break away. This was especially disappointing after being stuck at home with covid last holidays. All we could manage was three nights up at Nelson Bay to escape from a house that is also the office.</p><p>I am not a fan of the drive north out of Sydney to Newcastle. Too many lane changing, tailgating idiots with massive utes or luxury cars and a route that demands that you are in the correct lane without sufficient warning. So it was this time.</p><p>The Monday night wedding left us exhausted and we departed quite late in the day. We made it to the Morriset turnoff for a lunch of KFC, then through to the nightmare of Hexam, before turning off at Tomago, thus breaking with our last few drives north.</p><p>The traffic in the opposite direction was horrendous, jams stretching for kilometres. I had already planned to take a different route home.</p><p>I was very glad to finally reach our accommodation, the Oaks Lure. Our split level apartment was very nice, apart from the inability of the smart televisions to connect to the internet except by phone hotspotting. Streaming services are virtually a necessity these days. Anyway, the ability to use our NSW Parents Vouchers made it somewhat affordable.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2pKuPjr1w9Zlg-txWN1Hqqc_-ih_dWi_Dq7Dc8-K45L1NAaLYbinLuEM_4H6wdKKJjPRKZ5ttSQYVUpoKfhgwOeI1gHOKv40-jCYCA_vcKRgmzTDW1YhibAvV7ydI-3r_aOLuSi9CJpjhwbS9juwCbpaU48Q1VuWQ5HUlt9Y9b29pVCLXozMWucDAAg/s5333/DSC_4932.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2pKuPjr1w9Zlg-txWN1Hqqc_-ih_dWi_Dq7Dc8-K45L1NAaLYbinLuEM_4H6wdKKJjPRKZ5ttSQYVUpoKfhgwOeI1gHOKv40-jCYCA_vcKRgmzTDW1YhibAvV7ydI-3r_aOLuSi9CJpjhwbS9juwCbpaU48Q1VuWQ5HUlt9Y9b29pVCLXozMWucDAAg/w640-h360/DSC_4932.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>After a brief rest, we walked down the hill and into the centre of Nelson Bay township. Many of the shops had closed for the day and we continued on to the marina. Fortunately the well-stocked ice cream shop was still busy. Walking further along I bought flathead fillets from a fishmonger, already clearing his stock for the day, for dinner. Returning up the hill we stopped at Woolies for the remaining ingredients, having not brought enough from home.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiar8XAfK1H_HSI5z_97S6i0aBA4ZsUgrEWqLcTrqQewS9CJqaFTRr2KBCpc892-5QQfVaxOhoBifF8n3Z91t6C5wAE1lO4d8zvzP-6-YaejUFZ3ggjSFQg61sSkodxo2J8HJtTPBlcpLdhyhVlefGPX_AUEEosyY33oCWIg2dAL_WoYKLUoJ8CU5M2qA/s5333/DSC_4936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiar8XAfK1H_HSI5z_97S6i0aBA4ZsUgrEWqLcTrqQewS9CJqaFTRr2KBCpc892-5QQfVaxOhoBifF8n3Z91t6C5wAE1lO4d8zvzP-6-YaejUFZ3ggjSFQg61sSkodxo2J8HJtTPBlcpLdhyhVlefGPX_AUEEosyY33oCWIg2dAL_WoYKLUoJ8CU5M2qA/w640-h360/DSC_4936.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4GvwP354jC8lOd4kwsGlX3UZ76u5isWifKNJyfnmeQImzFMVRdr674Rige_IipOUyy5CRpbLppKVxVIvJi9eVlDvavrNmdk79odE9NkN-QMBLTtxNAa1Qrjh33Z0sI5IecZ5EN2_Os5eXwwQBDR6364IRj2W7RAF6XZ5tFVeX0EiFgYQvyJPVAvPhhA/s5333/DSC_4940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4GvwP354jC8lOd4kwsGlX3UZ76u5isWifKNJyfnmeQImzFMVRdr674Rige_IipOUyy5CRpbLppKVxVIvJi9eVlDvavrNmdk79odE9NkN-QMBLTtxNAa1Qrjh33Z0sI5IecZ5EN2_Os5eXwwQBDR6364IRj2W7RAF6XZ5tFVeX0EiFgYQvyJPVAvPhhA/w640-h360/DSC_4940.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_ytk9CIceAL3dIdHYxwTBDAEqzbe5R72OZHbsdET5LfmouvGORqizoJWzCEah4SawxasXSAK2QNW7B2-VY8z8tqb5r-5y7372vGAJOdQ5fQbdq0gkeObLpjwaPsAhcX1O8V_DvXKeFQRyRVkuX9WYQr5MI7zi0REe_cAnYNI-XiwZ-9xQI68gGduqw/s5333/DSC_4948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_ytk9CIceAL3dIdHYxwTBDAEqzbe5R72OZHbsdET5LfmouvGORqizoJWzCEah4SawxasXSAK2QNW7B2-VY8z8tqb5r-5y7372vGAJOdQ5fQbdq0gkeObLpjwaPsAhcX1O8V_DvXKeFQRyRVkuX9WYQr5MI7zi0REe_cAnYNI-XiwZ-9xQI68gGduqw/w640-h360/DSC_4948.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>We all had a late afternoon nap, then I cooked the flathead and vegetables in a sweet chilli and coconut sauce with packs of microwave rice. We really should have brought our rice cooker from home. I was pleased with the result, despite the lack of the usual range of sauces.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3lniB41r_Cc5fC3dL9vqshvPKcjHDzrjVe5Km758g6FmZRzwVGEfe09uL44mo33jvcX1CHTH6vzzmmAGeaqvgExToupHFXVibwk2tWl5qOG5Bwq9K7oBfcZXlGqG25WWYAXrgRqTMyGpmbTBaTNx1gC24WI5ZTKcQgZI03OOe0hqpXnKgfVr26qcpw/s5333/DSC_4950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3lniB41r_Cc5fC3dL9vqshvPKcjHDzrjVe5Km758g6FmZRzwVGEfe09uL44mo33jvcX1CHTH6vzzmmAGeaqvgExToupHFXVibwk2tWl5qOG5Bwq9K7oBfcZXlGqG25WWYAXrgRqTMyGpmbTBaTNx1gC24WI5ZTKcQgZI03OOe0hqpXnKgfVr26qcpw/w640-h360/DSC_4950.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Wednesday saw us at Toboggan Hill Park along with a crowd of other visitors. After queuing for maybe half an hour or more, B and Alex finally got one ride in before the rain struck and we abandoned hope of doing anything more.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi2WPZ_OKTr04a9xhx2USxV6I62uA5wUUtIXZ-e_nA7ERuWqlynQ3SNmG0iz2UgHenqIh-4MEBTKxiOlr1lMqR11DfeII0FlxomeeOclCwiq2iU-qNt2eXpnuac9gikTQNURn_R9kHWLgaAc831JegOmYXj7x5-KOnBaIWEcrYNUIyDFcToV0LPYq0jg/s5333/DSC_4954.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi2WPZ_OKTr04a9xhx2USxV6I62uA5wUUtIXZ-e_nA7ERuWqlynQ3SNmG0iz2UgHenqIh-4MEBTKxiOlr1lMqR11DfeII0FlxomeeOclCwiq2iU-qNt2eXpnuac9gikTQNURn_R9kHWLgaAc831JegOmYXj7x5-KOnBaIWEcrYNUIyDFcToV0LPYq0jg/w640-h360/DSC_4954.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>The showers seemed quite localised, with only light showers as we returned to the marina and wharf for a lunch of fish, a seafood pack, fresh prawns and oysters at Bub's Famous Fish and Chips, which really did seem to live up to its reputation.</p><p>I bought some black snapper fillets from the adjacent fishmonger. Then we went on a bit of a drive, up to the Nelson Head lighthouse, with its interesting little museum and lookout. From there, it was up to Tomaree, Fingal Bay and the Barry Park lookout, before returning to Nelson Bay.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzh3LKxJzqTGROtY5AP_jaXrpVZHmORIgh9lI_ymA_9eyOqa4RlNKDdy2_EY2MuTSSnZC5b6szrMZ1aKloovcc7t5ZTWz1L0VCmrjgNe2ehGPtCjuTTHwmmArxJvYVGiaAwRxuM4Q6QlphIjrnPhsd1acDEEWj2FYcxUziMWD35XBbJ9DR9miY34e1NQ/s5333/DSC_4968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzh3LKxJzqTGROtY5AP_jaXrpVZHmORIgh9lI_ymA_9eyOqa4RlNKDdy2_EY2MuTSSnZC5b6szrMZ1aKloovcc7t5ZTWz1L0VCmrjgNe2ehGPtCjuTTHwmmArxJvYVGiaAwRxuM4Q6QlphIjrnPhsd1acDEEWj2FYcxUziMWD35XBbJ9DR9miY34e1NQ/w640-h360/DSC_4968.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Another stop at Woolies for more supplies. What I really wanted was some decent sambal with prawn, but the closest I could find was laksa paste. For dinner I cooked the snapper in a coconut and curry leaf sauce, not quite as nice as the night before's. </p><p>About the only sight I was eager to see in the area was Fighter World, back at Newcastle Airport. The big hanger has static displays of a variety of ex-Australian airforce fighter aircraft, including an F-111, Mirage IIIC and a F/A-18A Hornet, along with a smaller shed containing Spitfires, a Vampire, Meteor and Sabre. The displays are very informative, especially about some of the component parts, like ejection seats, weapons, radars and engines. </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmqbrsE1DrrAhXF3-34qaQEA3tevZjC8AjHi1zkAy5yQfpdsci8p3wl2f0VSwf75jkzaFj6RthYWK-WAKpcJE6bl9GcfhhpPwd2ymGrkbHPWuJFtFQuxp8TBy0uBsv86qK-QU6zHmMf5wimCKXe9-8RgkM7uVlDuwr-QykG0Ci_E4ntBKHQsn1MhHRw/s5333/DSC_5070.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmqbrsE1DrrAhXF3-34qaQEA3tevZjC8AjHi1zkAy5yQfpdsci8p3wl2f0VSwf75jkzaFj6RthYWK-WAKpcJE6bl9GcfhhpPwd2ymGrkbHPWuJFtFQuxp8TBy0uBsv86qK-QU6zHmMf5wimCKXe9-8RgkM7uVlDuwr-QykG0Ci_E4ntBKHQsn1MhHRw/w640-h360/DSC_5070.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOpko_OCN0ObhTzO0KilBTXp5Xy2mdXamYgr3VzcKjxgmt9C4A23MGKS37KuEGoFT67Y3jwWF2BUIOkGvgptU3XHu4XL7CJAkn2O7Xx2gkD6dSvYYKKd3IzR_Jh7BHJHR-DyC38EA524mHt33azI5B7U9PNE2NSioN4vBRJKISknBRbeBBOwbhYQUs2w/s5333/DSC_5004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOpko_OCN0ObhTzO0KilBTXp5Xy2mdXamYgr3VzcKjxgmt9C4A23MGKS37KuEGoFT67Y3jwWF2BUIOkGvgptU3XHu4XL7CJAkn2O7Xx2gkD6dSvYYKKd3IzR_Jh7BHJHR-DyC38EA524mHt33azI5B7U9PNE2NSioN4vBRJKISknBRbeBBOwbhYQUs2w/w640-h360/DSC_5004.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgB1ZfATy2WGIT-MkA9f0v-Xqs9Rocpl4IXcBQ1c9ZnuI7O3GFUcmIvrVTvpXFnZQ7WIr-pIjcN6JlJCSnBAj8bt4EvA00qs3ocV86q6oYkT0LOeMHtDMksuXS8gNlQYv9wPHNVm_k53x7Ccr9av7Aqk-JpbwBKEXXtfn87e0Na6---N-JElkNJP8yw/s5333/DSC_5030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgB1ZfATy2WGIT-MkA9f0v-Xqs9Rocpl4IXcBQ1c9ZnuI7O3GFUcmIvrVTvpXFnZQ7WIr-pIjcN6JlJCSnBAj8bt4EvA00qs3ocV86q6oYkT0LOeMHtDMksuXS8gNlQYv9wPHNVm_k53x7Ccr9av7Aqk-JpbwBKEXXtfn87e0Na6---N-JElkNJP8yw/w640-h360/DSC_5030.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqAn7hGzLLphMN1nuPD_i6QFqD_2BS0y_rk3i5bn5V2Ql4ki7C1hGqFJ_LGLUW41Xg_VcZVUQKziKhD37cQ1SZ5-0E5gO1SSVAb8v7KrjKRkj4-SbbukPmwoIh9R0Olcxldj88uzpLDbsWe5_UfmwfGOrCnsv4vgbUaI_0BTrolaajmTfHrM9576nN_w/s5333/DSC_5034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqAn7hGzLLphMN1nuPD_i6QFqD_2BS0y_rk3i5bn5V2Ql4ki7C1hGqFJ_LGLUW41Xg_VcZVUQKziKhD37cQ1SZ5-0E5gO1SSVAb8v7KrjKRkj4-SbbukPmwoIh9R0Olcxldj88uzpLDbsWe5_UfmwfGOrCnsv4vgbUaI_0BTrolaajmTfHrM9576nN_w/w640-h360/DSC_5034.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxudvtMppV3zueSy6qC6mAktQy9Dpltr8v6T_TMZREgQG04_TKRz0h6C-vxtRX6KGNDRoHvP6-_NemsqQboUxNH9Wmqw9e4ziDcYkv3Oxp96ID6DraD-pfonlBubprN2kHTez5DTNq5Yl0rY-IhsXW401fHoDqkZIUZAIkjCY5L7veKcgt7SPbTJV8aw/s5333/DSC_5061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxudvtMppV3zueSy6qC6mAktQy9Dpltr8v6T_TMZREgQG04_TKRz0h6C-vxtRX6KGNDRoHvP6-_NemsqQboUxNH9Wmqw9e4ziDcYkv3Oxp96ID6DraD-pfonlBubprN2kHTez5DTNq5Yl0rY-IhsXW401fHoDqkZIUZAIkjCY5L7veKcgt7SPbTJV8aw/w640-h360/DSC_5061.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKDfdS_zLGqfPrHBoIlPUIo4vnxbjzZyTaQf0MQnnYTUIv3UZsqvqAjwhPgMWVEfZLwNWCX9oAj0QSgOxT9M_ucbyVsw774oer7vkozgZMF2Wj7Ny-40rtlPPekAEozTMXdogPY3aPbC2ERdxw9kZ3JlgBn5qF3_b8gbRsFukthePAaPczGRJ3vnRsQ/s5333/DSC_5068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKDfdS_zLGqfPrHBoIlPUIo4vnxbjzZyTaQf0MQnnYTUIv3UZsqvqAjwhPgMWVEfZLwNWCX9oAj0QSgOxT9M_ucbyVsw774oer7vkozgZMF2Wj7Ny-40rtlPPekAEozTMXdogPY3aPbC2ERdxw9kZ3JlgBn5qF3_b8gbRsFukthePAaPczGRJ3vnRsQ/w640-h360/DSC_5068.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I was really hoping that the nearby RAAF base might have some of the new F35's flying, but all I saw from the observation deck was a Qantas Dash8 Q400 heading up to Brisbane.</p><p>The weather was holding up pretty well, so we decided to do the biggest attraction of the area, the dunes of the Worimi National Park, driving to Birubi Beach at Anna Bay. After a quick lunch, we joined a 4WD bus tour on to the beach and dunes.</p><p>The driver was a very good guide and gave an interesting commentary on the area. The heavy La Nina rains had raised the water table and pools of water could be seen, surround by the green of grass and algae. Other times you might have to dig a little to find the fresh water, filtered by the biggest moving sand dune system in the Southern Hemisphere.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5fmos5LN2QSeBagJeI-OdqSiVv6ecN5JvSKFW7XgLWjYUBhgnGjy8rc2AIdYDz_AOkQp-Ah1VeDNqjfcDwVOHEOq9EuuXAUo3heMuJ1WjeLW-hQEw_w2c0rkp3p0UEsdZbEzj4t-nmtmjzdhnzu9bhkiDTeyvmRpgHD5Mi2supzU5ANvsz0SkqXKaZg/s5333/DSC_5074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5fmos5LN2QSeBagJeI-OdqSiVv6ecN5JvSKFW7XgLWjYUBhgnGjy8rc2AIdYDz_AOkQp-Ah1VeDNqjfcDwVOHEOq9EuuXAUo3heMuJ1WjeLW-hQEw_w2c0rkp3p0UEsdZbEzj4t-nmtmjzdhnzu9bhkiDTeyvmRpgHD5Mi2supzU5ANvsz0SkqXKaZg/w640-h360/DSC_5074.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIKWOxyBsNY5Q_0OzZH6ad4Vp7sj2BTurSdUMf4_4ky3wC6khVV3CU-6zGQLt_qvQ0vLMcQd_kGsx7PZ2tke3BrnH518B-vuRbqrn6pXAMKAhNBtRFTcElyTJ-DnLc6J2X685OGueeXqL5EtX84GcVkf-H423ZHaKsFaOvTvpBE5KwfeJO_JtdpnF8A/s5333/DSC_5113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIKWOxyBsNY5Q_0OzZH6ad4Vp7sj2BTurSdUMf4_4ky3wC6khVV3CU-6zGQLt_qvQ0vLMcQd_kGsx7PZ2tke3BrnH518B-vuRbqrn6pXAMKAhNBtRFTcElyTJ-DnLc6J2X685OGueeXqL5EtX84GcVkf-H423ZHaKsFaOvTvpBE5KwfeJO_JtdpnF8A/w640-h360/DSC_5113.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>We stopped along the beach to search for pippies, wriggling our feet in the wet sand until the bivalve molluscs emerged and attempted to escape. They were mainly tiny juveniles. When you leave them, their strong "lips" emerge and pull them back down into the sand.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf20k-DaQJavjMdELD6_PPaTi7ko-kKCmmfJzagm1OF5ALuWc4vYYhbRXf1sKzStGLTGPauARPtSQCpchRwfnqmpzoQ_QNKfUvvo9jFawZHQ1ZLM_Mlkc6RLSDNOK4su3uoJKozYaQdB7i3zz3o6PKV2gEAzi-2aI7ERnbAHo1uySsJhmRRqV7RbCZWA/s5333/DSC_5085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf20k-DaQJavjMdELD6_PPaTi7ko-kKCmmfJzagm1OF5ALuWc4vYYhbRXf1sKzStGLTGPauARPtSQCpchRwfnqmpzoQ_QNKfUvvo9jFawZHQ1ZLM_Mlkc6RLSDNOK4su3uoJKozYaQdB7i3zz3o6PKV2gEAzi-2aI7ERnbAHo1uySsJhmRRqV7RbCZWA/w640-h360/DSC_5085.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNK4Qh3SrsXsLx2vQUkUK1hVtKjDuTzxEmr8wpNKY6PZi18bL6cQJG8uJD8IzX4RsLl7XOez94El5Q5gY3fB7Ii1KnP9qxIE07E3xwjmGr7Kpws59vT5pcjn8xKTL2nC6fY16OgBVnJ_iBsAsAdA0g753bJdHktiDhHKLtYRATqlHUUVDiJIZ9hhfxrg/s5333/DSC_5089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNK4Qh3SrsXsLx2vQUkUK1hVtKjDuTzxEmr8wpNKY6PZi18bL6cQJG8uJD8IzX4RsLl7XOez94El5Q5gY3fB7Ii1KnP9qxIE07E3xwjmGr7Kpws59vT5pcjn8xKTL2nC6fY16OgBVnJ_iBsAsAdA0g753bJdHktiDhHKLtYRATqlHUUVDiJIZ9hhfxrg/w640-h360/DSC_5089.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0dHFmeZAGXZenFRlY4Ze-BJ68Ud2CQIzgFdMKHugDlGPQHORLlj_YYJH72PP7eAJCWU7V_7ZZ9YsCh954ryHr8dmAncF5EPujdCgez9cGMKCD5OCShDG71pQlNU5kJqJkSdYn5dOqSVaTKwNd-zz1QMiz1slD_TfLrXcFBucTyOqAQ358l51Fqy0tg/s5333/DSC_5093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0dHFmeZAGXZenFRlY4Ze-BJ68Ud2CQIzgFdMKHugDlGPQHORLlj_YYJH72PP7eAJCWU7V_7ZZ9YsCh954ryHr8dmAncF5EPujdCgez9cGMKCD5OCShDG71pQlNU5kJqJkSdYn5dOqSVaTKwNd-zz1QMiz1slD_TfLrXcFBucTyOqAQ358l51Fqy0tg/w640-h360/DSC_5093.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>This was not my first time hunting for pippies on this beach, but you are no longer able to take them home to eat, which is fine by me because I don't eat molluscs anyway.</p><p>A RAAF Spartan transport flew very low overhead, on training runs along the beach. I later spotted the black speck of a F35 disappearing into the clouds in the distance.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8GlYKlWXhy7xnbB68Os3mZaA_d1vNe2SNvFJGmHWsCYfUSk9TGr3dGEYcoQ8pY7hd1cro2hTeb3Pi80NGI_TVu009p6kIq005Aon8S5d4PpI3CLwMrUCEgrcPFXV7URfbiukNL0vuyb7bjk6OM_0Q1oqFUEdB7ztlSL1g4g9OXhZSoAHoXZ1IRWlybw/s5333/DSC_5083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8GlYKlWXhy7xnbB68Os3mZaA_d1vNe2SNvFJGmHWsCYfUSk9TGr3dGEYcoQ8pY7hd1cro2hTeb3Pi80NGI_TVu009p6kIq005Aon8S5d4PpI3CLwMrUCEgrcPFXV7URfbiukNL0vuyb7bjk6OM_0Q1oqFUEdB7ztlSL1g4g9OXhZSoAHoXZ1IRWlybw/w640-h360/DSC_5083.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Returning to the bus, we then drove up into the dunes for sandboarding. B and Alex did the sandboarding while I videoed them. I've slid down the dunes on a board before, that's enough for me.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4l5mgMMWgKIjTTdmWiaETID-UMRM5ud24KY8R0FchG4OAQ8nPzrv0BImX3zYZHnbXIzzMc3W3fPsAXeTtYqJ2c5-CbuevmjpRz6Y_6xQD8Ct43nelkVhlAlkRdFXZNFiEhb9B6Xt9GXzbSvZJmnAaTa7LFtlJ4dI43x_b12h8RQfNDxrg4mEQZKaVQ/s5333/DSC_5127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4l5mgMMWgKIjTTdmWiaETID-UMRM5ud24KY8R0FchG4OAQ8nPzrv0BImX3zYZHnbXIzzMc3W3fPsAXeTtYqJ2c5-CbuevmjpRz6Y_6xQD8Ct43nelkVhlAlkRdFXZNFiEhb9B6Xt9GXzbSvZJmnAaTa7LFtlJ4dI43x_b12h8RQfNDxrg4mEQZKaVQ/w640-h360/DSC_5127.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvsw_2VHb1rVqE6vPNnCuLAgX0ozpscX1yH4KuVR3VAQi0KjMgF3D3SDf55CH6U5Nuc8K3Q79YLDCju42ytDTVzRyEmug0s7Rg5Do9cz_3uUj8DBD8RfD3PLnH71WmV4_M-KDM2MYUicF2s6MMaN87lOJdaSre_L0n5Br1T_4SJoHPy2eIzzVRkpfR7A/s5333/DSC_5134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvsw_2VHb1rVqE6vPNnCuLAgX0ozpscX1yH4KuVR3VAQi0KjMgF3D3SDf55CH6U5Nuc8K3Q79YLDCju42ytDTVzRyEmug0s7Rg5Do9cz_3uUj8DBD8RfD3PLnH71WmV4_M-KDM2MYUicF2s6MMaN87lOJdaSre_L0n5Br1T_4SJoHPy2eIzzVRkpfR7A/w640-h360/DSC_5134.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>The bus returned us to Birubi Beach and we walked with sandy feet back to the car. Heading back to Nelson Bay, we turned off to Gan Gan Lookout, up a steep and winding road. At the top there were spectacular views across the Karuah River inlet and along the coast. We were fortunate indeed that the weather had cleared up for the day.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgExgZFxWg2VuqcAkcEQYutskjLwJk520G6CPRScbvv770dutof1KueGVdl-T9E9Y41S_xbQXxK-eIcwyoFdotvHbRNsrZbrCyYyTHaXvrCC7mC_s0j7eYN0apIcS7_tW2PXJ531_wlW45Tzhgn0n1kyULYyPtutHp8M4xmbENZhloGKKqnSLx95x1kbA/s5333/DSC_5139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgExgZFxWg2VuqcAkcEQYutskjLwJk520G6CPRScbvv770dutof1KueGVdl-T9E9Y41S_xbQXxK-eIcwyoFdotvHbRNsrZbrCyYyTHaXvrCC7mC_s0j7eYN0apIcS7_tW2PXJ531_wlW45Tzhgn0n1kyULYyPtutHp8M4xmbENZhloGKKqnSLx95x1kbA/w640-h360/DSC_5139.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOPALOAs5CEgUUHx_eJWBVFMuscqyEsTG2MyGSrvaX0_Ng3cuaV28Kh3t_wNR7Fb_iBUIKAOsJPE4FSVFPe_uwx5HSfBH8ChQylqyf-6TN3D2Gu94oMHelFiqiN-KsfhvdRVlAkn-rutvCx2lERR3usqxIYIx5_mOnJCA3woR1A8GfdpoRD6gjfwAfmQ/s5333/DSC_5143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOPALOAs5CEgUUHx_eJWBVFMuscqyEsTG2MyGSrvaX0_Ng3cuaV28Kh3t_wNR7Fb_iBUIKAOsJPE4FSVFPe_uwx5HSfBH8ChQylqyf-6TN3D2Gu94oMHelFiqiN-KsfhvdRVlAkn-rutvCx2lERR3usqxIYIx5_mOnJCA3woR1A8GfdpoRD6gjfwAfmQ/w640-h360/DSC_5143.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjawOgbHMuhB-xnLIvDvFTsnu0fYKiLxx98ModlKmIgDuQDJIYC09nq_uH80sKLlH74KSPROTslmdNeZsG7bLoy9aXwyKAFC3cK9-EJ0WGUklLbDJ7GiqvHakenkgsvJdqiQQUZVXiXPFcFosJVByzyDhW0GK4tfasmm0FO3QCJdfpywnNgpZltgKIJpg/s5333/DSC_5144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjawOgbHMuhB-xnLIvDvFTsnu0fYKiLxx98ModlKmIgDuQDJIYC09nq_uH80sKLlH74KSPROTslmdNeZsG7bLoy9aXwyKAFC3cK9-EJ0WGUklLbDJ7GiqvHakenkgsvJdqiQQUZVXiXPFcFosJVByzyDhW0GK4tfasmm0FO3QCJdfpywnNgpZltgKIJpg/w640-h360/DSC_5144.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkMo1D0kLg-YytqcvuuvHPsLPVDz3x_aE3e2su0SgUw-DpjMea7Z8FyWpHSjwqPt7nDydIZv2aJzWdpMUPx1LL6ojB6wuc_L83vnWzcMB1Ikt2H98MTrbFcPtmFpkCrsRuUlnlLnReQUMjE8CihIngrqQJONMZCnUdPixnkW2nZMszUC-pYQg7lHR2cA/s5333/DSC_5148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkMo1D0kLg-YytqcvuuvHPsLPVDz3x_aE3e2su0SgUw-DpjMea7Z8FyWpHSjwqPt7nDydIZv2aJzWdpMUPx1LL6ojB6wuc_L83vnWzcMB1Ikt2H98MTrbFcPtmFpkCrsRuUlnlLnReQUMjE8CihIngrqQJONMZCnUdPixnkW2nZMszUC-pYQg7lHR2cA/w640-h360/DSC_5148.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I dropped the others off at the apartment, the drove to Salamander Bay Square in search of petrol and more supplies, finding a K-mart and the major supermarkets.</p><p>Dinner was cold prawns and leftover snapper cooked in a cream sauce flavoured with stock made from the prawn heads and served, at Alex's request, with bowtie pasta (hence the need for additional supplies). I quite like being creative with the limited supplies. It's somehow easier than trying to decide what's for dinner at home.</p><p>Faced with the threat of heavy rains and heavy weekend/end-of-holiday traffic I wanted to leave early today. Rather than face the jams of Tomaree and Hexam, I decided to ignore the GPS and drive into Newcastle via the massive Stockton Bridge as I don't think I've ever gone that direction before.</p><p>The bridge was indeed impressive, as were all the port loading facilities we passed. Hopefully their time is limited as renewables replace coal.</p><p>I continued to avoid returning to the motorway by driving through suburban Newcastle towards Hamilton and Merewether and taking the route down through Belmont on the Pacific Highway. Eventually we returned to the M1, but I had missed a number of stretches of annoyance. </p><p>We passed a big jam in the opposite direction as we approached Mooney Mooney, whether it was because of an accident or holiday traffic I'm not certain.</p><p>The problem with driving between Sydney and Newcastle is that they are both large cities, which means a lot of idiots on the road, like the occupants of a green P plater van who were doing rapid lane changes and flipped us the finger as they stole gaps. There's probably a tree or lamp waiting for them in their future.</p><p>And there we were, back in Sydney, dealing again with all the crap.</p><p>It was a relief to get off the roads. It's a pity that I still have business back in Queensland (family, concerts - the QSO just realised their 2023 program!) because I'd be quite happy not to drive north again, at least not that stretch from Sydney to Newcastle. </p><p>I don't think I have any real desire to return to Nelson Bay. It's pretty, fish and chips were nice, but it lacks the atmosphere of some of the other coastal regions and I can do without the stress of the drive.</p>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0Nelson Bay NSW 2315, Australia-32.7206751 152.1414806-61.030908936178847 116.9852306 -4.4104412638211556 -172.70226939999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-51699828233381890172022-10-01T20:29:00.002+10:002022-10-01T20:29:35.257+10:00Transport Heritage Expo 2022<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDaJn3kQUpjfU7LGFn8Pu9F7Gq63-UkqfCF9eFl3wDJhRcqZszEiSJMD-d6CRMCCMILarRz6puLpHw6xiSs_Tn3E2IUQwe5UBiqT4YDxl2wSnbPaHuMJJQjhan9kQuXJtNvv_rdx1GaRJX-7B505w8vqWAp1Jntzf97EJMrR87d4A-Wfdm5BgME6FPOg/s5333/DSC_4873.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDaJn3kQUpjfU7LGFn8Pu9F7Gq63-UkqfCF9eFl3wDJhRcqZszEiSJMD-d6CRMCCMILarRz6puLpHw6xiSs_Tn3E2IUQwe5UBiqT4YDxl2wSnbPaHuMJJQjhan9kQuXJtNvv_rdx1GaRJX-7B505w8vqWAp1Jntzf97EJMrR87d4A-Wfdm5BgME6FPOg/w640-h360/DSC_4873.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>I would have gone out of my way to avoid this Red Rattler suburban train when it was in operation, but here I am going out of my way to ride in one. <div><br /></div><div>It's the Transport Heritage Expo at Sydney's Central Station. There are stalls, an operational C32 steam locomotive and 86 class electric loco with cabin tours, steam train rides down to Hurstville and back and the Southern Aurora parked at a platform.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwcCZl-MnejIsF6xe_qzoO1JH9x2HNpcF0Kqm_iy_7vX2lHvYxjy4MLS8415LBuEc3v5hAu0UCNhB6doR7lR3ptqHXVjcxrKLWCyOjCrWP7KtCm0I8OSB6r6ZZuhfJWG49LQ9cVdPS8DDZ1NTHpPteUy-KPgvkGvRXRDlzdaG-7cU6LjU6RioOXVdK9w/s5333/DSC_4868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwcCZl-MnejIsF6xe_qzoO1JH9x2HNpcF0Kqm_iy_7vX2lHvYxjy4MLS8415LBuEc3v5hAu0UCNhB6doR7lR3ptqHXVjcxrKLWCyOjCrWP7KtCm0I8OSB6r6ZZuhfJWG49LQ9cVdPS8DDZ1NTHpPteUy-KPgvkGvRXRDlzdaG-7cU6LjU6RioOXVdK9w/w640-h360/DSC_4868.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy6YJptdTNyKaxMNuRhzNmbJ2tR1qaH1_O2XsfAdoVQiyvhVq8yLOSnD-V-pLnvZviQOsbIgs7LuhxWhxltmEeBQmD6oKCETkdNTTgkC2vs3ScZVfI0Yt7_J_U43bhSzRbGi0fimRXH2wb7KGkhHKmZ2sjuUunvpU4Rn_Kk-7djnyk_D_ZZDgBZMTnuA/s4912/DSC08824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy6YJptdTNyKaxMNuRhzNmbJ2tR1qaH1_O2XsfAdoVQiyvhVq8yLOSnD-V-pLnvZviQOsbIgs7LuhxWhxltmEeBQmD6oKCETkdNTTgkC2vs3ScZVfI0Yt7_J_U43bhSzRbGi0fimRXH2wb7KGkhHKmZ2sjuUunvpU4Rn_Kk-7djnyk_D_ZZDgBZMTnuA/w640-h426/DSC08824.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The latter will always be associated with pandemics to me. I was really sick with the flu that was going around on my first trip to Sydney, aboard a sleeper on the Southern Aurora back in the the early 1980's. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was here to catch a heritage electric train ride. Initially it was supposed to run to Lavender Bay, down near Luna Park, which would have been fantastic as you can't normally catch trains there, being a storage branch. Unfortunately, that was kyboshed by the authorities and replaced with a return run to East Hills.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had already caught that line in from Padstow, although on one of the most recent trains on the system, a Waratah B set, so I wasn't really thrilled about it. B and Alex decide not to join me for this leg.</div><div><br /></div><div>Walsh Island Standard Motor Car C3218 is really well maintained. The hard leather seats are well padded, the hospital mint green steel walls clean. The only air-conditioning in the cabin is courtesy of the windows which slide up.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgepTD0LrYCFrrchHswHo2cEXgocMdK-Q9t0F-Qe4HnHiyDEEgAI9OZpau4rFpzJvATWA5qKTERCcfBIR4r9K7Q4NFib_vYz_bQscAmPeduMacTOSFv8y7DPBM1YFYdP3N2TWzIoGavXbDo0x3VzE8paoAK_WiqE00H-KsLd9wBXuBE1UukclDnruutqQ/s4912/DSC08837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgepTD0LrYCFrrchHswHo2cEXgocMdK-Q9t0F-Qe4HnHiyDEEgAI9OZpau4rFpzJvATWA5qKTERCcfBIR4r9K7Q4NFib_vYz_bQscAmPeduMacTOSFv8y7DPBM1YFYdP3N2TWzIoGavXbDo0x3VzE8paoAK_WiqE00H-KsLd9wBXuBE1UukclDnruutqQ/w640-h426/DSC08837.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5zBKdIJGGigRqh8Gl2CB5St5Iv4ThlcZ2E7dExesbs8kA8lJb05Mmjh3VzOrxKiHviBEp91qcbECpEJAhDhbuxBXVliKXbJ4XUmYmMROw2rwkBdmaIVRRYVoP8HOVv6sbqU5nfp2J1nJODWRMUrdVqGgKyoOhdPleJczFh6y8oCZTFAc4uiBQqbuOg/s4912/DSC08841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5zBKdIJGGigRqh8Gl2CB5St5Iv4ThlcZ2E7dExesbs8kA8lJb05Mmjh3VzOrxKiHviBEp91qcbECpEJAhDhbuxBXVliKXbJ4XUmYmMROw2rwkBdmaIVRRYVoP8HOVv6sbqU5nfp2J1nJODWRMUrdVqGgKyoOhdPleJczFh6y8oCZTFAc4uiBQqbuOg/w640-h426/DSC08841.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJVOqV4Fkij4tBml4hT3A0hbDdnhRIQ5ZrJEdPMT3WuDx6gC0DmhWEenz-4M2q9JK7my6kGqX6aiclDh6LDKga8pDLdQwCstkDX2C54p-sxsSDk2Lk5Fmd2ky6AEhHrWsmTnbtr6ytkj2T_4xPjyFOKOiEJaEDtC6nbC8Dasu_VdXhBo-mRxFiOqBjw/s4912/DSC08847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJVOqV4Fkij4tBml4hT3A0hbDdnhRIQ5ZrJEdPMT3WuDx6gC0DmhWEenz-4M2q9JK7my6kGqX6aiclDh6LDKga8pDLdQwCstkDX2C54p-sxsSDk2Lk5Fmd2ky6AEhHrWsmTnbtr6ytkj2T_4xPjyFOKOiEJaEDtC6nbC8Dasu_VdXhBo-mRxFiOqBjw/w640-h426/DSC08847.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>With a jerk and a whirr we begin moving along and away from the platform. Our route is not quite that of the regular commute to the city as we are departing from the country train lines and not passing through the airport tunnel. I enjoy the sensation of gazing out the window and just watching the city pass by.</div><div><br /></div><div>Enthusiasts have cameras on tripods to capture our passing. Other casual observers hold up their mobile phones or wave cheerfully at us as we pass.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgMi6BytIUQ_gWXWzWzY6igZCEu06pKpcKJmeaCt9WAuciC2-Fh4aNWvf8UkvBZcHO6vrpOjfuBIMStLwFik5eRTaPQEkM3vj8kdhQw2XcSkzZGwoSR27elByYtL_zvxubEnkT-NRFk5fR0zIr-zutRYuO5SYdxyacWXzTHp5URKA_P4qvJUL5XENtw/s4912/DSC08859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgMi6BytIUQ_gWXWzWzY6igZCEu06pKpcKJmeaCt9WAuciC2-Fh4aNWvf8UkvBZcHO6vrpOjfuBIMStLwFik5eRTaPQEkM3vj8kdhQw2XcSkzZGwoSR27elByYtL_zvxubEnkT-NRFk5fR0zIr-zutRYuO5SYdxyacWXzTHp5URKA_P4qvJUL5XENtw/w640-h426/DSC08859.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPgFdpeUd_gRmJKoRm6Sz5jQV70Yyp1aHyRJhPgsRr5hxd26ep2rISkXg4VexEaQxPwn2P4NYMV1kuhXWogvmSDtmPbf96LbOyWPildbmEFZhndu2jk-FXCJC0KgxnziDQ1utVTcrAksJwk0GNuItlocdT2S8vDift1va3u5gfPFC5-v55TZlvuq6JSw/s4912/DSC08868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPgFdpeUd_gRmJKoRm6Sz5jQV70Yyp1aHyRJhPgsRr5hxd26ep2rISkXg4VexEaQxPwn2P4NYMV1kuhXWogvmSDtmPbf96LbOyWPildbmEFZhndu2jk-FXCJC0KgxnziDQ1utVTcrAksJwk0GNuItlocdT2S8vDift1va3u5gfPFC5-v55TZlvuq6JSw/w640-h426/DSC08868.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not used to travelling this fast along the line. Normally if I've caught the express it means I'm on the wrong train. The outer tracks weren't in existence when this train retired.</div><div><br /></div><div>We wait for 20 minutes at East Hills Station, then return along the same route to Central. I listen to music through headphones, remember those early trips to Sydney when the old single level suburban electric train still ran, screeching their way noisily through the tunnels of the underground.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr9M4MB_21uMUE3P6HppP23gTTIJPKggB3nbJPNHZ5BGHXRyd_DqUh8gUcKOku1NaNbuXGnelARmjyRBgWUQdH2anUBvlpRmd421erdl8pXvMX_clre5hvq8iJ-itU4ZFgvjieeIZCWW9SmVqtJZVc0ZW3xvg7V-q4LZ1NKavHWwVKxmTzffL5R0v03Q/s4912/DSC08876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr9M4MB_21uMUE3P6HppP23gTTIJPKggB3nbJPNHZ5BGHXRyd_DqUh8gUcKOku1NaNbuXGnelARmjyRBgWUQdH2anUBvlpRmd421erdl8pXvMX_clre5hvq8iJ-itU4ZFgvjieeIZCWW9SmVqtJZVc0ZW3xvg7V-q4LZ1NKavHWwVKxmTzffL5R0v03Q/w640-h426/DSC08876.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JGyJKge3AYfCsoaZFF9zbvz8_a2GlVw4T49vyj1Wc62SmLo7r2EVc6X8qipFZY3WpkclodrvQqPI0f3i2tYWmGQhoMpJM4XIANxB8LNT4fK8e-OYPyR1zLCUVaovKos6mOILMZu6YdhdxQqn8Qc1yyZ3rDtTnOfdf7kOTn94ptwLg76Sg_G51E8UPw/s4912/DSC08885.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JGyJKge3AYfCsoaZFF9zbvz8_a2GlVw4T49vyj1Wc62SmLo7r2EVc6X8qipFZY3WpkclodrvQqPI0f3i2tYWmGQhoMpJM4XIANxB8LNT4fK8e-OYPyR1zLCUVaovKos6mOILMZu6YdhdxQqn8Qc1yyZ3rDtTnOfdf7kOTn94ptwLg76Sg_G51E8UPw/w640-h426/DSC08885.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_hNjTQ2tYJkkMYatmh0Czky-4t2bs7DHfBKvhdvHgp5ln7CG_N3MD-BHxnS3jX5fJaXRWZ2YieRfMkiWMT2WL3tsBVjfLs0MBjQP45gLTwTca2mYrygQKv5yFBY6bcYyIgh-F89dR9b14u1ROgR9aq4__OMWjEXlzKedHFgNuCKWUIBEUp-sakW3Arw/s4912/DSC08887.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_hNjTQ2tYJkkMYatmh0Czky-4t2bs7DHfBKvhdvHgp5ln7CG_N3MD-BHxnS3jX5fJaXRWZ2YieRfMkiWMT2WL3tsBVjfLs0MBjQP45gLTwTca2mYrygQKv5yFBY6bcYyIgh-F89dR9b14u1ROgR9aq4__OMWjEXlzKedHFgNuCKWUIBEUp-sakW3Arw/w640-h426/DSC08887.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I meet B and Alex for lunch at Sushi Hotaru in the Galleries Victoria, browse Books Kinokuniya before we return to Central for the second ride of the day, a CPH "Tin Hare" diesel railcar. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKrxGq4TdMtr2rusavTlityWNflqj3r8YRFOiVjI_6Bx_I9KijHwKz8i_SlMtYAidoMGwvizY5weIKZn6rUVPXnAlFFTSChIz5B7ELUgsYBU9s2eO7DZ_VDTqqJTTwrnp3uu5TkkRYEVCS9OoViAHXnoYXmvbJ2mZe9Cv7Eif7dQDwrz2ndopRCRrw3Q/s4912/DSC08895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKrxGq4TdMtr2rusavTlityWNflqj3r8YRFOiVjI_6Bx_I9KijHwKz8i_SlMtYAidoMGwvizY5weIKZn6rUVPXnAlFFTSChIz5B7ELUgsYBU9s2eO7DZ_VDTqqJTTwrnp3uu5TkkRYEVCS9OoViAHXnoYXmvbJ2mZe9Cv7Eif7dQDwrz2ndopRCRrw3Q/w640-h426/DSC08895.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyrXfyH42OQlAaWWgHWgwZw7871AotnKA87rcOCvaFAePW-m6VBll_e-0qDwZviv7amV344MnIHCVS_pRKnis1D-u3ndCQanLVTKGKIA5kNi1sIfWvWIuqO7hZPr2Jshw3iO8jG9-p-hL_iOi7qg9vMqN7h-7lQogbfutwcKPmQrWUPrO4ylX95LNRfA/s4912/DSC08897.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyrXfyH42OQlAaWWgHWgwZw7871AotnKA87rcOCvaFAePW-m6VBll_e-0qDwZviv7amV344MnIHCVS_pRKnis1D-u3ndCQanLVTKGKIA5kNi1sIfWvWIuqO7hZPr2Jshw3iO8jG9-p-hL_iOi7qg9vMqN7h-7lQogbfutwcKPmQrWUPrO4ylX95LNRfA/w640-h426/DSC08897.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJGgw9jFas2fGGWnpuwGB2SqxiC4ULzD7b3cWr6T329xtmbsfUCO1m7OUbBLIaB7wSbn_qCZTNtjePuUl4kxPGaEFrcnA93Y4Mmz3Yy3_pfZVIoi8avJIfmUTlvF5rjfKfPmmz80GmlmkfE4gpmGKOzWb_8zynBcDdDPmFu-9EuADZZPKffMMUD_dDA/s4912/DSC08899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJGgw9jFas2fGGWnpuwGB2SqxiC4ULzD7b3cWr6T329xtmbsfUCO1m7OUbBLIaB7wSbn_qCZTNtjePuUl4kxPGaEFrcnA93Y4Mmz3Yy3_pfZVIoi8avJIfmUTlvF5rjfKfPmmz80GmlmkfE4gpmGKOzWb_8zynBcDdDPmFu-9EuADZZPKffMMUD_dDA/w640-h426/DSC08899.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The Tin Hare's wooden interior has a character that the earlier suburban set lacks. It's quite easy to imagine riding one of these on a rural branch line. Today we are going to explore parts of the suburban network that the electric trains can't reach.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6bRPb17Vp47oKAXx0GjFoq-bJMmonNPWYbL7KwdnoeXXi3QRSvRt1vWEN8rN3yVjtssT_ewlfCoMlMqhSrht3hVCINAqS97xf0IQmGNob6vBxBn5LWyqn-cyJxPFHPTy5SvuH4exCRwkCCB7zLMbFpT0jgA8QOTphCEpXcRvfAx7BusPPVqVPnH-fA/s4912/DSC08907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6bRPb17Vp47oKAXx0GjFoq-bJMmonNPWYbL7KwdnoeXXi3QRSvRt1vWEN8rN3yVjtssT_ewlfCoMlMqhSrht3hVCINAqS97xf0IQmGNob6vBxBn5LWyqn-cyJxPFHPTy5SvuH4exCRwkCCB7zLMbFpT0jgA8QOTphCEpXcRvfAx7BusPPVqVPnH-fA/w640-h426/DSC08907.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHmeY6z0LzslB3y7w5AP5qsYNXouqC1fpD8agVcBPq-WjGf9nBDmzL-ecUUS9BogU8kTdh-w6QPhdUVgX-GWKU71-8c8BE02emRBG1uatr7NU61zcxgP59Er4Wz1l30YFXzrPE9UDTiAzimELvDX6XMDZtbLHF3jiBuA8J7PaJTffdqfO7j3-1VZN-w/s4912/DSC08916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHmeY6z0LzslB3y7w5AP5qsYNXouqC1fpD8agVcBPq-WjGf9nBDmzL-ecUUS9BogU8kTdh-w6QPhdUVgX-GWKU71-8c8BE02emRBG1uatr7NU61zcxgP59Er4Wz1l30YFXzrPE9UDTiAzimELvDX6XMDZtbLHF3jiBuA8J7PaJTffdqfO7j3-1VZN-w/w640-h426/DSC08916.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Our route takes us around the back of the XPT maintenance facility at Sydenham and along the Bankstown line that is currently closed for conversion into a driverless metro system, roughly following the Cooks River.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQk4gUFLTy9zsOuVTqTAudDtlj0Cszy7VN3PVbB_U6eFcff37mKVZkshzfz5jVaw1lImNSAUBeQCEoIrT21qduN-2F3Fh-U-lV7R3d52Zh5cubaKhaHQgUSycuuqgTusjhBCYvYmDQEhsMjO9cz1AEern2-H0eYrM4e_5DUTV1qdSH1vpBqpuLvJKAg/s4912/DSC08918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQk4gUFLTy9zsOuVTqTAudDtlj0Cszy7VN3PVbB_U6eFcff37mKVZkshzfz5jVaw1lImNSAUBeQCEoIrT21qduN-2F3Fh-U-lV7R3d52Zh5cubaKhaHQgUSycuuqgTusjhBCYvYmDQEhsMjO9cz1AEern2-H0eYrM4e_5DUTV1qdSH1vpBqpuLvJKAg/w640-h426/DSC08918.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4kHtWvP5AUwjB6C9DHYy9PqKNZqFmTdjniZ0UUKKTxns453kXcyEbM7k27Tvou2Sr0Zr0oiIgQirzkp6ApDDUWbS-v56EpxhxtwaDAzfp2mTlKoSDs8cXqhdqEGecYSFbqpHKHDCbsvDERI5VEBKYoTf90xRZTGvK7ZcDF65Emu84qFO5psj7kY532Q/s4912/DSC08920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4kHtWvP5AUwjB6C9DHYy9PqKNZqFmTdjniZ0UUKKTxns453kXcyEbM7k27Tvou2Sr0Zr0oiIgQirzkp6ApDDUWbS-v56EpxhxtwaDAzfp2mTlKoSDs8cXqhdqEGecYSFbqpHKHDCbsvDERI5VEBKYoTf90xRZTGvK7ZcDF65Emu84qFO5psj7kY532Q/w640-h426/DSC08920.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>We pass through the Enfield yards, where the new Mariyung intercity fleet are being stored pending the resolution of an industrial dispute with the transport union. Then around through the Chullora yards. The movement of a Pacific National container train appears to delay our progress for a while.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUTQPEbbjyfA_1bnMcd6IWaTy5lvzceb8AWzJBMi5q9cTa0L4IMK5mozzNGgYXOvD1DLAz7BTODUPQk2q2yY6ec-tMGpO445vjOTpIYprqer_b3fwhzcTXNTL2beKFZYDGV6W3NB6FlFZAKpWJYMWi-g30DDNj3CChhrnIgI7Eg5MyOmsm2Hv_ljJAQ/s4912/DSC08926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUTQPEbbjyfA_1bnMcd6IWaTy5lvzceb8AWzJBMi5q9cTa0L4IMK5mozzNGgYXOvD1DLAz7BTODUPQk2q2yY6ec-tMGpO445vjOTpIYprqer_b3fwhzcTXNTL2beKFZYDGV6W3NB6FlFZAKpWJYMWi-g30DDNj3CChhrnIgI7Eg5MyOmsm2Hv_ljJAQ/w640-h426/DSC08926.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnI42hUiSEiZv1E1x7oaTC-AJsj7oeiaKk1WARLTZ9P6_rSftuobpEXiGOnNC6Q5-0c5vQw23xmfkg4uZ5_-FlRb-WitwQPxtoMEkwU048nmt5Pf_A5DPBCny0dFBQ_BFixuCrkv-LQdCoB17iuWb9U_3ezmhJGdaAA1Yv5ilVsuajAXjgAMqEBgOM1A/s4912/DSC08929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnI42hUiSEiZv1E1x7oaTC-AJsj7oeiaKk1WARLTZ9P6_rSftuobpEXiGOnNC6Q5-0c5vQw23xmfkg4uZ5_-FlRb-WitwQPxtoMEkwU048nmt5Pf_A5DPBCny0dFBQ_BFixuCrkv-LQdCoB17iuWb9U_3ezmhJGdaAA1Yv5ilVsuajAXjgAMqEBgOM1A/w640-h426/DSC08929.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigIWUkDRB7Tpf4je0H41BKNwfl0_9HFh4yCQqZYGlnOTFpbapU-TI65DGmB7qAs_ObDX1vviFPRqlrbh0O-v13ra3XscIVsVdGmv8fQRGGmv3Obs2bgI0tGylvdptJdB3GbGAIs_grZWj2rDskXLDWKjX5y9CKyqdcvvBs2P-rBxQdjgRHuduYNfhlA/s4912/DSC08933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigIWUkDRB7Tpf4je0H41BKNwfl0_9HFh4yCQqZYGlnOTFpbapU-TI65DGmB7qAs_ObDX1vviFPRqlrbh0O-v13ra3XscIVsVdGmv8fQRGGmv3Obs2bgI0tGylvdptJdB3GbGAIs_grZWj2rDskXLDWKjX5y9CKyqdcvvBs2P-rBxQdjgRHuduYNfhlA/w640-h426/DSC08933.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrKU1IjINa89EPBG09m2nTMNtLRjsYPW-kJbeT9CBAUsmmqODS93ut9uyaMMj0pLGcNdvsPzWOVOWwtlfROM4LsJ9iwwsvkEgNCH5S9EmUioV4brDey4itOcjWm5Kj1BwJEyZ63z6WOF-8vUsAhAvszT9_c1KBYap99s3yiMPntVgWDULroAavXu8yg/s4912/DSC08940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrKU1IjINa89EPBG09m2nTMNtLRjsYPW-kJbeT9CBAUsmmqODS93ut9uyaMMj0pLGcNdvsPzWOVOWwtlfROM4LsJ9iwwsvkEgNCH5S9EmUioV4brDey4itOcjWm5Kj1BwJEyZ63z6WOF-8vUsAhAvszT9_c1KBYap99s3yiMPntVgWDULroAavXu8yg/w640-h426/DSC08940.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0sx5swWSuSxBseVpKhIwvDlOAjEQx6390DdrRHXNnxrnlvN_gppu5csGpYYSEnF7JbE5bsU6DzcJ6eePLUut_p8xHrhGZqXweOE5yvNgWugJO6ajG6uha4a9LrJ3uLkZD08A5GmVuAq-Wj2UwzkiqLv8eq3Ew_d5W4QOe5oLLp1Nf9Uj7jqTI-B3L2w/s4912/DSC08945.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0sx5swWSuSxBseVpKhIwvDlOAjEQx6390DdrRHXNnxrnlvN_gppu5csGpYYSEnF7JbE5bsU6DzcJ6eePLUut_p8xHrhGZqXweOE5yvNgWugJO6ajG6uha4a9LrJ3uLkZD08A5GmVuAq-Wj2UwzkiqLv8eq3Ew_d5W4QOe5oLLp1Nf9Uj7jqTI-B3L2w/w640-h426/DSC08945.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Curving around, we rejoin the suburban network at Regents Park, following it around to Lidcombe and the Flemington Yards, where only scant evidence remains of how the railways once supplied the markets with goods. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtyLjWvDtMOG_EZcOF6p9un7fTnAxSrzpqzDON0chDUE5i6lmvzRtY3oo7XOQZk0r8neZMtc_x1FES3L66BEBMS6yAvEhd5ADjUsGxb5I9cnnnmnr6acD0GIBnxL_ns-6T9ov4_Hetx9rMV_9qqn_uQep7KfP0l-JnnDsjfI8jFpSOa8xqiwfELzvAQ/s4912/DSC08950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtyLjWvDtMOG_EZcOF6p9un7fTnAxSrzpqzDON0chDUE5i6lmvzRtY3oo7XOQZk0r8neZMtc_x1FES3L66BEBMS6yAvEhd5ADjUsGxb5I9cnnnmnr6acD0GIBnxL_ns-6T9ov4_Hetx9rMV_9qqn_uQep7KfP0l-JnnDsjfI8jFpSOa8xqiwfELzvAQ/w640-h426/DSC08950.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXbMVIgvIPnRWhjuhkAM5KCkFlOHV9tY5pCsJX7reZcd1R3HiwLmhxL7LbMWoIb9W6Gak3361T5kyoGx4BMfW3rJV2ovmQ3rUXOaL5gqq_7WvFFkpq0V_FAZyxXLkMLKCaInR8BhC4rb6IoEQkpnpLNPtNLjCR4y8IAzairM4AB7m2IawmN9i-3KVmg/s4912/DSC08959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXbMVIgvIPnRWhjuhkAM5KCkFlOHV9tY5pCsJX7reZcd1R3HiwLmhxL7LbMWoIb9W6Gak3361T5kyoGx4BMfW3rJV2ovmQ3rUXOaL5gqq_7WvFFkpq0V_FAZyxXLkMLKCaInR8BhC4rb6IoEQkpnpLNPtNLjCR4y8IAzairM4AB7m2IawmN9i-3KVmg/w640-h426/DSC08959.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggLb05RI-vuq-F_inVtIwhv1sdehkTxbpI-jfDCboufpsgoOixj7dHX4dsyfu4BvJhS6IVbqO4v5ULc6yGxLOPAMbYXrkCeh_rmkDBiGF8NYJ0BIE1ykOBZg_9Zw8iWw_jWon2jgrXuYx40ifOTOePjelxoONnZw3_pLQ7JL0J-UnQnloc58jYGJm9fA/s4912/DSC08960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggLb05RI-vuq-F_inVtIwhv1sdehkTxbpI-jfDCboufpsgoOixj7dHX4dsyfu4BvJhS6IVbqO4v5ULc6yGxLOPAMbYXrkCeh_rmkDBiGF8NYJ0BIE1ykOBZg_9Zw8iWw_jWon2jgrXuYx40ifOTOePjelxoONnZw3_pLQ7JL0J-UnQnloc58jYGJm9fA/w640-h426/DSC08960.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Once we passed Strathfield the rest of the ride is all too familiar after daily commutes to Epping and back for many years. But we race along, surely faster than this rail motor would have travelled on most lonely branch lines. With the breeze blowing in through the open window it really is a lot of fun.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtI-2oKDGUF8GbSwMNSijv3kSAum3XXJU9FnYwjvfa1m9k63er0Rn4xgi_EIIQLQoxXxLYaSExoyH6vF3TLC9uQ6i1N1Mwi3beKvlTbHuT4ehYcwVqrEiy9jaU_TM_MrLHZhKB2zvJnE5PIWKFuz9eU3EFbiYE6VJEvc5uR3Y1J9FRQr9mGrgp2nWN7A/s4912/DSC08966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtI-2oKDGUF8GbSwMNSijv3kSAum3XXJU9FnYwjvfa1m9k63er0Rn4xgi_EIIQLQoxXxLYaSExoyH6vF3TLC9uQ6i1N1Mwi3beKvlTbHuT4ehYcwVqrEiy9jaU_TM_MrLHZhKB2zvJnE5PIWKFuz9eU3EFbiYE6VJEvc5uR3Y1J9FRQr9mGrgp2nWN7A/w640-h426/DSC08966.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPqxUqCe7fmUTdXxvK4R1108HlHRp9B7XnaayhMqzavfl7xNHtD7wEbeQ-FCoztYNubqKgCiAjfIQFR1e1VKpRRW_JWs1f1yAVMZHpr8t5aGhfY6Ig8ysBooCvKkHtHNMact6eHvstJmzFr-2IdvnsGZEnhXNytnP6HzTfKWnUeClbeBkRu9EEgitGQ/s4912/DSC08967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPqxUqCe7fmUTdXxvK4R1108HlHRp9B7XnaayhMqzavfl7xNHtD7wEbeQ-FCoztYNubqKgCiAjfIQFR1e1VKpRRW_JWs1f1yAVMZHpr8t5aGhfY6Ig8ysBooCvKkHtHNMact6eHvstJmzFr-2IdvnsGZEnhXNytnP6HzTfKWnUeClbeBkRu9EEgitGQ/w640-h426/DSC08967.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGgxHAlMmH5nWe4rWrRE08dv0_Akx-iSMa7Q_yQCb93XwxXTt3qlPuGtYbV_-dnty3AIEcIj1OTHjmtAo9fFs4fz-VYQe9fvE_vIDlFvSaG8xsvCpI-4S4LCbvcMrMqitOsa7ARlbvbGVxjZBxvOnKS5PNfW8_12dndwcsPIHvIPIX6ffmTbXcD7r-Q/s4912/DSC08972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGgxHAlMmH5nWe4rWrRE08dv0_Akx-iSMa7Q_yQCb93XwxXTt3qlPuGtYbV_-dnty3AIEcIj1OTHjmtAo9fFs4fz-VYQe9fvE_vIDlFvSaG8xsvCpI-4S4LCbvcMrMqitOsa7ARlbvbGVxjZBxvOnKS5PNfW8_12dndwcsPIHvIPIX6ffmTbXcD7r-Q/w640-h426/DSC08972.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Finally we return to Central Station and the end of our heritage railway adventures for the day. We walk back through Chinatown, eat an early dinner of udon and return to Padstow on a regular, modern, suburban electric train.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8N2IMq2GXQdauXUiO7wSpR8RI1UideCFKJ3fjGRnmT-C6estMSuzMHPVgPQ6iUvjZ-iI6VVM4dnCDAttI0eum_3pbqdprmR6SOxxO_jyvo-BgMPUYHIQHRVMzlFIgFp0F6JVDpb1U5MbTB72zTqc2zXRO1D3X2aSuN7_43u_dTI95NPIVxq91lSTT2g/s4912/DSC08976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4912" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8N2IMq2GXQdauXUiO7wSpR8RI1UideCFKJ3fjGRnmT-C6estMSuzMHPVgPQ6iUvjZ-iI6VVM4dnCDAttI0eum_3pbqdprmR6SOxxO_jyvo-BgMPUYHIQHRVMzlFIgFp0F6JVDpb1U5MbTB72zTqc2zXRO1D3X2aSuN7_43u_dTI95NPIVxq91lSTT2g/w640-h426/DSC08976.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0vps9zmy53iix9zWAnP8T24V6TWOxwf4ayq8260O8gXxc1njaxYQuPuCBTOeZX7w4lE0dOrHHjC4GCDxTyeB1b8fTwVTCf9qz1cIozArWlfOAWbWsoMDBcSauNofh6zSfVR3YRHwOrGiPWzRNK0ZTZoC_IYEsbNBmQ1Q_pFFx-Q8InCActYdQjl_NA/s5333/DSC_4892.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0vps9zmy53iix9zWAnP8T24V6TWOxwf4ayq8260O8gXxc1njaxYQuPuCBTOeZX7w4lE0dOrHHjC4GCDxTyeB1b8fTwVTCf9qz1cIozArWlfOAWbWsoMDBcSauNofh6zSfVR3YRHwOrGiPWzRNK0ZTZoC_IYEsbNBmQ1Q_pFFx-Q8InCActYdQjl_NA/w640-h360/DSC_4892.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Whilst neither heritage railway journey was particularly scenic, it was fun to explore parts of the network I haven't seen before and just to sit back and enjoy the ride.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0Central, Railway Colonnade Dr, Haymarket NSW 2000, Australia-33.8831733 151.2069512-62.339121040721821 116.05070120000002 -5.4272255592781811 -173.63679880000007tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-80711881696231059662022-06-13T20:11:00.004+10:002022-06-13T20:11:46.130+10:00Batemans Bay<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8qec4KnYJr2lpHmxSLs-hhwizU3RxMGAYSSkTBPFHBg3YZan0tOsbWbn7CvtqZRDDcjArh71zoqS4MQusdUY7PGJZbya6eMeIuw5AhNgo3Mb_0N2-RA44zm7VGSOen2qOv3zZovVoPF_UOqOMuQvbHXOBNQQIhMyIhFimF4T86bbNC5XQz4ph0nUyw/s5333/DSC_4620.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8qec4KnYJr2lpHmxSLs-hhwizU3RxMGAYSSkTBPFHBg3YZan0tOsbWbn7CvtqZRDDcjArh71zoqS4MQusdUY7PGJZbya6eMeIuw5AhNgo3Mb_0N2-RA44zm7VGSOen2qOv3zZovVoPF_UOqOMuQvbHXOBNQQIhMyIhFimF4T86bbNC5XQz4ph0nUyw/w640-h360/DSC_4620.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>A long weekend and B just wants to get out of the house. Having gone off on my own little adventures lately I can hardly refuse, but the accommodation is mostly either crappy motels or way too expensive. The only one we find is a three-star hotel at Batemans Bay. </p><p>We drive down. I'm more interested in listening to ABC Classic FM's Classic 100 countdown of film, television and game soundtracks. I can't figure out how to set the car's GPS while we are on the move. Eventually I setup a second phone to use Android Auto. Can't use mine, I'm using an app to listen to the countdown.</p><p>At Ulladulla, we stop for some fish and chips and a seafood basket for lunch. Then onwards!</p><p>It isn't far to Batemans Bay. The hotel is really a motel, but furnished really nicely, which suits us perfectly. We take a stroll along the river and towards the town, past the sculptures. The outgoing river water fights with the incoming waves from the strong winds off the coast.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT6miH7yL_8l0Y3Zcm_1mZPlai2reyX-nc5lAwEDKh8NdY3BTDHaLzD8KO2Fkd19qjytcYXyhzXlZHtLfmr1BHKly7wmQAh6-o6wzFJRe1i4-mLgyaPrYbHLHotYvuMksb50xcWjQ8BdDAZXrdSZ7mtBLW5EiDDbRuzKwKumTxU9bkVXtlU8HIoht1_w/s5333/DSC_4613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT6miH7yL_8l0Y3Zcm_1mZPlai2reyX-nc5lAwEDKh8NdY3BTDHaLzD8KO2Fkd19qjytcYXyhzXlZHtLfmr1BHKly7wmQAh6-o6wzFJRe1i4-mLgyaPrYbHLHotYvuMksb50xcWjQ8BdDAZXrdSZ7mtBLW5EiDDbRuzKwKumTxU9bkVXtlU8HIoht1_w/w640-h360/DSC_4613.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPtXyaoj5ETnQ-eB9iDsADUqCX4SrD4iBMsipOVkNFq3DQwVa_frNeHc4u3dcRpFp8torJIW8ostssA26cNOEjGvY0NOakQk-FlATSw9i9Jd_NdcEaqXxdpUgStPgbvDfX12ImkflzBXnXYh12MdAUBrN0eiVIs6UUDXiTaCfEKmD9THt0-MIetowjFA/s5333/DSC_4614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPtXyaoj5ETnQ-eB9iDsADUqCX4SrD4iBMsipOVkNFq3DQwVa_frNeHc4u3dcRpFp8torJIW8ostssA26cNOEjGvY0NOakQk-FlATSw9i9Jd_NdcEaqXxdpUgStPgbvDfX12ImkflzBXnXYh12MdAUBrN0eiVIs6UUDXiTaCfEKmD9THt0-MIetowjFA/w640-h360/DSC_4614.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>The shops along the main street are mostly closed this late on a Saturday afternoon, so we head back to the hotel. Alex must spend this long weekend writing up a gothic story for school. I'm still listening to the Classic 100.</p><p>B has made a reservation for dinner at Stingray. This time we drive into town. The pasta dishes are terribly disappointing, especially considering their price. One the way out we stop at a nearby shopping centre to buy a few groceries from Coles. Though shaded, this is not an enclosed shopping centre and the night air is bitterly cold.</p><p>The hotel television has Netflix and YouTube, but we watch a movie on free to air. I've been trying to get B to watch <i>Red</i> for ages! Perfect movie for the night.</p><p>I sleep well on the firm bed. Listening to the second day of the countdown, I leave the others in the room and cross the road to the marina, walking along the breakwater to <i>Pelicant</i>, a sculpture of a crab pinching the bill of a pelican.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqB4a48S0AwgMfaGtDzCrxDGhsv7AZplnED0g_aO88tDuoRYh1pYe5gdn5ZoDcgWcXsyHm4xzffDOqmZ08QhgRYenx4ROdSX8QZFfs25bMFx1314bwVukqxFJA-dBfl_bckkl42Al4rDMjfzUDEStPIq-HftTmbBnuadiz1urqDU145rdlExV5Lg4mow/s5333/DSC_4619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5333" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqB4a48S0AwgMfaGtDzCrxDGhsv7AZplnED0g_aO88tDuoRYh1pYe5gdn5ZoDcgWcXsyHm4xzffDOqmZ08QhgRYenx4ROdSX8QZFfs25bMFx1314bwVukqxFJA-dBfl_bckkl42Al4rDMjfzUDEStPIq-HftTmbBnuadiz1urqDU145rdlExV5Lg4mow/w360-h640/DSC_4619.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Mark Knopfler's music from Local Hero is playing on the countdown. Ubiquitous in the eighties, I know it, but never knew it was from a movie.</p><p>When I return the others are upset at my long absence and demand to go for a drive. We head south along the coast, stop at beaches and lookouts, watch the huge waves crash against the rocks and shore.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVh-A1TvHBZLocQJ-ceQS28n4wapRhAfthm_QWthK0s9gMzI1tx5552pqZEOZSC9nwMK2R3YH3wqbIDTJ4yf-6zSE99x0yLs5e7YG9wCWzcVK2oCCfNE76mrfMGsqAS81b0TCXJ96YkkYXmXRUPtq4GSE3EWs8goqGyDKU3MwcoLbvBjp6WfA2x-3GQ/s5333/DSC_4624.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVh-A1TvHBZLocQJ-ceQS28n4wapRhAfthm_QWthK0s9gMzI1tx5552pqZEOZSC9nwMK2R3YH3wqbIDTJ4yf-6zSE99x0yLs5e7YG9wCWzcVK2oCCfNE76mrfMGsqAS81b0TCXJ96YkkYXmXRUPtq4GSE3EWs8goqGyDKU3MwcoLbvBjp6WfA2x-3GQ/w640-h360/DSC_4624.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZx1A_qjS8rq8Kuxon1oEGO74JxPYuxZRV92CnQNgmk2yv6O6zUr6X2l0Ph-VGrCP2yh58uRIQmFfSlg715cqPvseRpoUuvhbCfbtG0gHkaqU1uhSFDAJrvOMqF1Ol8MWkgz7Hims3nzWP_FJWcbi_YtCy8cZ2V1CjiW0xxzQMuMvYDz1ky3jyxepclg/s5333/DSC_4626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZx1A_qjS8rq8Kuxon1oEGO74JxPYuxZRV92CnQNgmk2yv6O6zUr6X2l0Ph-VGrCP2yh58uRIQmFfSlg715cqPvseRpoUuvhbCfbtG0gHkaqU1uhSFDAJrvOMqF1Ol8MWkgz7Hims3nzWP_FJWcbi_YtCy8cZ2V1CjiW0xxzQMuMvYDz1ky3jyxepclg/w640-h360/DSC_4626.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDULYPcZODSHobSJaAtMWKpVSaiTWxT-8PGl8m7owKknvk1vDJpyk6sqQGrC0lzwGftLfUyrys8_JKog5462UZIhE4AOmbk4i6vOOdR0WM9xFGzwGY2gS8QyQW1g-pB4ySVvCpi4APF5iYBxZXv4S-AR-fwGDgLzai9AwcHNQXAgR39C_2OJcylqGckg/s5333/DSC_4634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDULYPcZODSHobSJaAtMWKpVSaiTWxT-8PGl8m7owKknvk1vDJpyk6sqQGrC0lzwGftLfUyrys8_JKog5462UZIhE4AOmbk4i6vOOdR0WM9xFGzwGY2gS8QyQW1g-pB4ySVvCpi4APF5iYBxZXv4S-AR-fwGDgLzai9AwcHNQXAgR39C_2OJcylqGckg/w640-h360/DSC_4634.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I pull into Malua Bay and suddenly realise that we know the restaurant in front of us, Raymond's at Malua Bay, from <i>Chopsticks or Fork?</i>, a series on the ABC. Why not? We're hungry.</p><p>The lunch specials are pretty good and I can't help ordering a fried ice cream. It's been so long!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM7HPO9YSk-y2qgW6qaRgb-DdMww8MP_CdyVPTR-ry3UrSKf2DZVbII6r1gQyTAZ88S97Z--Um7OJPkEl-HBq6fWNtC-oNCwaSja9-tdof0AqRt0bDPKKDCHnjf5iNzFlQdRo3NOl9mmZ0ne5YsOw1ojpJUDXqZCJxmMg_Fs2LKuKsfr2aFgnheKGM8g/s5333/DSC_4637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM7HPO9YSk-y2qgW6qaRgb-DdMww8MP_CdyVPTR-ry3UrSKf2DZVbII6r1gQyTAZ88S97Z--Um7OJPkEl-HBq6fWNtC-oNCwaSja9-tdof0AqRt0bDPKKDCHnjf5iNzFlQdRo3NOl9mmZ0ne5YsOw1ojpJUDXqZCJxmMg_Fs2LKuKsfr2aFgnheKGM8g/w640-h360/DSC_4637.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsaB4kJkGgA4bFtwAiPRTGGUp52F1t7SBuGbVA4TPJK6yqSa5oGL35u6YwVaEAo3vyBTHqeAv8jLK1r8Cc3ShYVGCblneN3Gs_7SJ_zJCNCvCJvozws20yx4vLFEmI58jSn5aMcKVnZl5VYmlCfI_x2OZDEkw5HNDv6RLHd1BbFsfiTrmU_Oceg2FVg/s5333/DSC_4641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsaB4kJkGgA4bFtwAiPRTGGUp52F1t7SBuGbVA4TPJK6yqSa5oGL35u6YwVaEAo3vyBTHqeAv8jLK1r8Cc3ShYVGCblneN3Gs_7SJ_zJCNCvCJvozws20yx4vLFEmI58jSn5aMcKVnZl5VYmlCfI_x2OZDEkw5HNDv6RLHd1BbFsfiTrmU_Oceg2FVg/w640-h360/DSC_4641.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmuj5BKy1ukePAicf6G0iYitqdPQGQM3T1JH2cVb7tpVkKnkE3jWTEM-hS75bTroT0Sxkq-u-iJu21tT5vrs5uBLPvPsOlv8Cxt8lP1DDBNHmY9tyDFJSM7sDp0wSt9q3wQsVX9MuDyq3V0r_Pf5oOgylcOWuDjVpij2Xt57PKITQ2AjEyEQVs6Hoqg/s5333/DSC_4644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmuj5BKy1ukePAicf6G0iYitqdPQGQM3T1JH2cVb7tpVkKnkE3jWTEM-hS75bTroT0Sxkq-u-iJu21tT5vrs5uBLPvPsOlv8Cxt8lP1DDBNHmY9tyDFJSM7sDp0wSt9q3wQsVX9MuDyq3V0r_Pf5oOgylcOWuDjVpij2Xt57PKITQ2AjEyEQVs6Hoqg/w640-h360/DSC_4644.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>After some time admiring the waves by the beach, we head back to the hotel and Alex continues writing and complaining about writing his assignment.</p><p><i>Star Wars</i> rightfully wins the countdown and I am ready to head out to dinner. I chose Roy's Fish and Chips just up the road. Alex orders a fish burger, I want to choose from their Sri Lankan menu. A tuna curry with yellow rice. It has curry leaves, which is good, tastes like a curry. Ultimately though it was a meal for one, not to be shared between B and I.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUQhxUgm7aFg2Lf7_Kmwy-_5316tcJjPEpybL7Lnm8ZGCSPbELnhcvDMFGV1SmYSCrmaZbYcyB-zIUvokQ9MsbfjY2HXzqrhYuaIlvmTqTXD9WiK213KCiU4-W8pqiA4tqfQS3XpqlfzC8rEU6nsxmdTEf7M2K6nvfBzdIxAk_HjZbWGyJd5J6RWh2A/s5333/DSC_4650.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUQhxUgm7aFg2Lf7_Kmwy-_5316tcJjPEpybL7Lnm8ZGCSPbELnhcvDMFGV1SmYSCrmaZbYcyB-zIUvokQ9MsbfjY2HXzqrhYuaIlvmTqTXD9WiK213KCiU4-W8pqiA4tqfQS3XpqlfzC8rEU6nsxmdTEf7M2K6nvfBzdIxAk_HjZbWGyJd5J6RWh2A/w640-h360/DSC_4650.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb5YALtADCZ0cNSxAeVYThVoclquMt_fgOmo_4eULxFkY39I-sbPtL3U1PTtJc8G3HpHiAw35wjzjNhfXig6ttqZufh50YmjrI9Hk97SbdCAJ4deJiZaStug1WTYS4ztZDK_NDyKn_VNtUJ49RUOxbpyKPIAwU-8aod-8-OriLrxakTo8cjaq48Dv8wg/s5333/DSC_4651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb5YALtADCZ0cNSxAeVYThVoclquMt_fgOmo_4eULxFkY39I-sbPtL3U1PTtJc8G3HpHiAw35wjzjNhfXig6ttqZufh50YmjrI9Hk97SbdCAJ4deJiZaStug1WTYS4ztZDK_NDyKn_VNtUJ49RUOxbpyKPIAwU-8aod-8-OriLrxakTo8cjaq48Dv8wg/w640-h360/DSC_4651.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>At 9.30pm she is still hungry and I am sent out to McDonalds for an apple pie and sundae. The wait is long and confusing at the drive through and they only have a single apple pie. It's past 10pm when Alex and I get back.</p><p>We check out early in the morning and set off for our return to Sydney. It's a prettier ride today, through eucalypt plantations, the historic town of Milton, and the bright green dairy pastures. In the background the ridges of the Illawarra Escarpment.</p><p>This time we make a stop at Berry. The long queue at the Doughnut Van and Bakery put us off. We eventually eat a hot breakfast in a quieter cafe before heading off again. One day I'd like to return to Berry midweek without the crowds that have accompanied us each time.</p><p>Home again to housework and and my siblings requesting our presence at their school musical and my mother arriving tomorrow, along with the stress of regular work. Makes me want to head off again.</p>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-25582798363998268752022-06-02T22:00:00.001+10:002022-06-04T16:05:51.857+10:00Return: Daylight XPT to Sydney<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRkooZoG9Xh2QnTFsqrHQ_5dy6wPEu2F3s9MBIcCqDDV1PbcVKeXEC4WxgnGE_P3wBopgLkqGrIFqK68_-5W8RKqijxU6Jeib1rUCtvtw_qyepv05-Ow8U0yP1x1GYZuptGPgbiDnSVOJpL4oiPblqjO35nUMxs-HZg1OPtOL-0aXEGfMfbS-x9l2lag/s5333/DSC_4536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRkooZoG9Xh2QnTFsqrHQ_5dy6wPEu2F3s9MBIcCqDDV1PbcVKeXEC4WxgnGE_P3wBopgLkqGrIFqK68_-5W8RKqijxU6Jeib1rUCtvtw_qyepv05-Ow8U0yP1x1GYZuptGPgbiDnSVOJpL4oiPblqjO35nUMxs-HZg1OPtOL-0aXEGfMfbS-x9l2lag/w640-h360/DSC_4536.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I'm on my way home. If this train is one time then it is less than one and a half hours until I get off this daylight XPT service from Melbourne to Sydney. </p><p>Only it's not daylight any longer. There is nothing to see out the window but blackness. </p><p>I should have flown, had tickets to fly. The sky seemed calm, a day between the fierce fronts past and future. Contrails show the way. </p><p>But it was a late night, a too early morning, and the train was already at the station, no further effort required. Also it is a chance to relax. I snooze, listen to the soundtracks to the Star Wars prequels, watch Solo on my phone. </p><p>Unlike the journey down I do not attempt to connect to the Internet bar a brief check now and then. </p><p>All the while the countryside rolls past. The outskirts of Melbourne, the country towns and cities, rolling fields and clouds drifting past beneath a silver sky of ice crystals. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGCCHsyjcANMju-kfY_jad1DngGhGFz2wCH5yhbt0kk4-nlpA66NyxBxyMjc05Z93CEpxck6izM69xMO3zJ3z7tGSf4btXuwO0CjtSlqPyZaEgxDtsOsGVmA2-utradTU6B4p9QNBp0jxhVAfwtHiI2hPHyL_X5QF3W3Ni3Ndv2Ps_Lv7wzF-K-zFZVg/s5333/DSC_4545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGCCHsyjcANMju-kfY_jad1DngGhGFz2wCH5yhbt0kk4-nlpA66NyxBxyMjc05Z93CEpxck6izM69xMO3zJ3z7tGSf4btXuwO0CjtSlqPyZaEgxDtsOsGVmA2-utradTU6B4p9QNBp0jxhVAfwtHiI2hPHyL_X5QF3W3Ni3Ndv2Ps_Lv7wzF-K-zFZVg/w640-h360/DSC_4545.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6VCc1GwbWoUW30Ncm-e2Uo5ZGb_ptRlB-dY0ED_qPN6ikfW84N64CfJDEFPL1RZJOHpQikNEqbFK6tAb9BA0TlFimC41C0HTNOw8BxK2YfbmsRbomVo-b7L6TdsnAqvAGhQmDfhXfqLT1s-aL7teqPjfEP7Z1ICsQU1okLpGooagbJIrwSMvrLXIiuw/s5333/DSC_4544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6VCc1GwbWoUW30Ncm-e2Uo5ZGb_ptRlB-dY0ED_qPN6ikfW84N64CfJDEFPL1RZJOHpQikNEqbFK6tAb9BA0TlFimC41C0HTNOw8BxK2YfbmsRbomVo-b7L6TdsnAqvAGhQmDfhXfqLT1s-aL7teqPjfEP7Z1ICsQU1okLpGooagbJIrwSMvrLXIiuw/w640-h360/DSC_4544.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>This time I do not force myself to absorb all the details. Now and then I notice. A historic town, a spur to somewhere, the big old Bethungra pub and then the Spiral named after the town, cutting through the granite to give us northbound trains an easier journey up the hill. The rest of the time it just flicks past. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6yN0MDUI2wibIVHgFOlc2_RjHKDyNwyOUP7KAgj4z-6EZkbPWIGSJoSpfJ82zHKWpMvz2_KmDuVQ3wndoYX9pEtukog3sHLEWiB3Z0g1TAcffPCTeD0OvJp70ZPYbvIf_J84TxE33cyptrSfR3Ok5s0uRjVWOOHxlSa60wUIxo2pR9fl_6zIfpTJDA/s5333/DSC_4565.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6yN0MDUI2wibIVHgFOlc2_RjHKDyNwyOUP7KAgj4z-6EZkbPWIGSJoSpfJ82zHKWpMvz2_KmDuVQ3wndoYX9pEtukog3sHLEWiB3Z0g1TAcffPCTeD0OvJp70ZPYbvIf_J84TxE33cyptrSfR3Ok5s0uRjVWOOHxlSa60wUIxo2pR9fl_6zIfpTJDA/w640-h360/DSC_4565.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>If I was at home I would not have this opportunity. The chance to do nothing, to be undisturbed by the demands of others. </p><p>Nobody sits next to me in the train. Once again car B is economy sold as first class. I will have to seek a refund tomorrow, but it is comfortable enough. I wish I could take off my mask: My ears are sore after three days, but there is a lot of coughing and not much proper mask wearing by other passengers. I do not want to bring covid into the house from this trip. Let it be the every day activities if it must. </p><p>Yesterday was wet, cold and miserable in Melbourne. I was working from the apartment, people I generally didn't want to deal with emailing me requests I don't want to action. </p><p>I head out into the rain and wind to grab and early lunch. The nasi lemak and rendang cafe is closed today, so I try Lulu's Char Koay Teow in Hardware Lane. It's pretty good CKT, but their Milo tarik is insipid. Then I walk further along to Little Lonsdale Street to get my fill of curry puffs and pork buns from Puff House, our favourite from the last trip. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjltYhjfQ94u0uJH-f1e1W343UFvM7Y4JOp6WmNPnSbbMXStvVhTgpBXr2UeH2mFqyGg1xu4a8XiS5id3xRXs-xo8Wf8IQWznIUdXObYGEfJcBzGgwir-yHNICNXkrBPvfJYBVaLy8RJxatwSqQWvqw-an3nO9DUkDSKj22zjM_3rV46TlSCciTTB-vgQ/s5333/DSC_4485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjltYhjfQ94u0uJH-f1e1W343UFvM7Y4JOp6WmNPnSbbMXStvVhTgpBXr2UeH2mFqyGg1xu4a8XiS5id3xRXs-xo8Wf8IQWznIUdXObYGEfJcBzGgwir-yHNICNXkrBPvfJYBVaLy8RJxatwSqQWvqw-an3nO9DUkDSKj22zjM_3rV46TlSCciTTB-vgQ/w640-h360/DSC_4485.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-m0cwBoxxasHZRKqTF4y7WczCCcs-K8o9meHDACX6VEK1n0d9mccB0fd6-PUDr-hFOygnrL7dCo18kqzlOgdqCb-Swx0Y-6elqmdlIX71ccubdaHYne45aizfNI6ll56m6urIkdOXWxKivdxYommMNVJkmdliv-pJ6uq7a4CzMw8gBGztudC94j0VZQ/s5333/DSC_4486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-m0cwBoxxasHZRKqTF4y7WczCCcs-K8o9meHDACX6VEK1n0d9mccB0fd6-PUDr-hFOygnrL7dCo18kqzlOgdqCb-Swx0Y-6elqmdlIX71ccubdaHYne45aizfNI6ll56m6urIkdOXWxKivdxYommMNVJkmdliv-pJ6uq7a4CzMw8gBGztudC94j0VZQ/w640-h360/DSC_4486.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAnqxbh_9kBh11-T4nAYACtouH2fAYSenozVyhbKGNVIw2QVZ1SSU9wOoEDukh2pC_dEx_lz_rqSbviRup_G71tOceAUzuEclj_IG9YRHMB9E8i1BuUChNtNy-v0BLVHJQK2JoAIXrtP_6PtCOCNt-wj5e9I6yWY09xGQmHxmv2KSJ6Lj5U_salx86pA/s5333/DSC_4487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAnqxbh_9kBh11-T4nAYACtouH2fAYSenozVyhbKGNVIw2QVZ1SSU9wOoEDukh2pC_dEx_lz_rqSbviRup_G71tOceAUzuEclj_IG9YRHMB9E8i1BuUChNtNy-v0BLVHJQK2JoAIXrtP_6PtCOCNt-wj5e9I6yWY09xGQmHxmv2KSJ6Lj5U_salx86pA/w640-h360/DSC_4487.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiOLLwA_XuIxycV-7_TtZWNskTpw6OFwduQ0Hev729viOEJ_A5P6nLRQUJU4Kcxb5HxoS_eVPL0watcJtmmTxOSQGjb-Zb5-cRgVGfI1N8g-jy32n2GNOgopQCyvnp-1jr9Yq2GOXiTChs8Sk_-jzl9cC4EsTyHY5qpPHZ1_yP2fzW25tFHgOtoIux0g/s5333/DSC_4491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiOLLwA_XuIxycV-7_TtZWNskTpw6OFwduQ0Hev729viOEJ_A5P6nLRQUJU4Kcxb5HxoS_eVPL0watcJtmmTxOSQGjb-Zb5-cRgVGfI1N8g-jy32n2GNOgopQCyvnp-1jr9Yq2GOXiTChs8Sk_-jzl9cC4EsTyHY5qpPHZ1_yP2fzW25tFHgOtoIux0g/w640-h360/DSC_4491.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Back to the apartment for more work, but late in the afternoon I figure I deserve to be a little more tourist and walk to the nearby National Gallery of Victoria. It's been a long time since I walked behind the waterfall glass front. </p><p>Beautiful works by the Impressionists, us some fascinating pieces from Asia, Egypt, Greece and the Mesoamerican civilisations catches my eye. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMCMaNN-V1a0t7WSfexpqJbygGbO11o-PpUzOWnSgJ0T3Q2nrG3W2d4teVZeZkO6QF10TCt0i7FIv6xxFc8XpikVyLNGzyl9na3dBzypo057ocdwPFc4dp4wqiRTKl4TA-TPaZL1lFpWtDFMi63oZLfJxnfAbC44Ca-uL_85wZkuJr77Xq-d97os_LYQ/s5333/DSC_4492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMCMaNN-V1a0t7WSfexpqJbygGbO11o-PpUzOWnSgJ0T3Q2nrG3W2d4teVZeZkO6QF10TCt0i7FIv6xxFc8XpikVyLNGzyl9na3dBzypo057ocdwPFc4dp4wqiRTKl4TA-TPaZL1lFpWtDFMi63oZLfJxnfAbC44Ca-uL_85wZkuJr77Xq-d97os_LYQ/w640-h360/DSC_4492.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge1QmteWp07fFbdHTohcNsVaGD4WfmICEe0B2lKfGh9gqnK6a8-zeighCvzbfeEttFFs_tllavGQUu41z7sEgISlSO0e-8qpwXypIQLUzfNTBkys3oVGlTNzNzEB5Hvm-Pc47m4VMoj0T_WTA06wwCtkqsMkIQmWs6fNn-JPeUqrVj_eK-jzKnQYZ_9w/s5333/DSC_4498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge1QmteWp07fFbdHTohcNsVaGD4WfmICEe0B2lKfGh9gqnK6a8-zeighCvzbfeEttFFs_tllavGQUu41z7sEgISlSO0e-8qpwXypIQLUzfNTBkys3oVGlTNzNzEB5Hvm-Pc47m4VMoj0T_WTA06wwCtkqsMkIQmWs6fNn-JPeUqrVj_eK-jzKnQYZ_9w/w640-h360/DSC_4498.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrAV0AHdsb-NkxLthHG8EirOG8S_fJPgvzfbcDzQ-MpZaHgwJfmecqQHjui6jV5v7CpmITplUTo3nxwscRxGKCw6LdEWnlks7dQSsJS-NthGSYqbj6d-6kLzHD0sJMqTNIFQDBveY6LBNvMVT0mrb1WzZkJ6w3xj780ROnMyGPAi0qXCMWGvxR6ycRUQ/s5333/DSC_4504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5333" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrAV0AHdsb-NkxLthHG8EirOG8S_fJPgvzfbcDzQ-MpZaHgwJfmecqQHjui6jV5v7CpmITplUTo3nxwscRxGKCw6LdEWnlks7dQSsJS-NthGSYqbj6d-6kLzHD0sJMqTNIFQDBveY6LBNvMVT0mrb1WzZkJ6w3xj780ROnMyGPAi0qXCMWGvxR6ycRUQ/w360-h640/DSC_4504.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdLTbDzNLREHFgQeTbmYGm8v7n_BTOvceDPX7BDnDJnn7YZCCmFnbkvEWQqjvH9FxGR5lcXKpCXI-WaB93ypF4y6II4Q4QoL-U8YzklZL8EUwsx86yyu49X-VHuVuMeItxdl__Gdwa5FNfHQXRCrMnhCk-5Riq-1suFlbC9xqfLKfAj82TTAqJh70E_Q/s5333/DSC_4508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdLTbDzNLREHFgQeTbmYGm8v7n_BTOvceDPX7BDnDJnn7YZCCmFnbkvEWQqjvH9FxGR5lcXKpCXI-WaB93ypF4y6II4Q4QoL-U8YzklZL8EUwsx86yyu49X-VHuVuMeItxdl__Gdwa5FNfHQXRCrMnhCk-5Riq-1suFlbC9xqfLKfAj82TTAqJh70E_Q/w640-h360/DSC_4508.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I buy a ticket for the Kaleidoscope installation outside the Arts Centre, but the open ceiling and rain makes it less fun than it should be. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5Ar1Z2M2u_bilHv1OSOp_X5rAgjvjXdrWHmIP-lgRw3HJ9KAyWxDvgveedrKEfEKPPvoE1obxPW3UqzRtTDoFwi1pAmq4Rz3JmZc8i_mPlPQPXmS8aD_K18VvnCe4GP4b2hKPH-v9J4_oVBtmIWyxVSZl-cH5AT8pPTQH_UWd2tH83dmm1ai_0RY9Q/s5333/DSC_4512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5Ar1Z2M2u_bilHv1OSOp_X5rAgjvjXdrWHmIP-lgRw3HJ9KAyWxDvgveedrKEfEKPPvoE1obxPW3UqzRtTDoFwi1pAmq4Rz3JmZc8i_mPlPQPXmS8aD_K18VvnCe4GP4b2hKPH-v9J4_oVBtmIWyxVSZl-cH5AT8pPTQH_UWd2tH83dmm1ai_0RY9Q/w640-h360/DSC_4512.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Retuning to the apartment, I spend time video chatting with Alex and helping him to prepare for his maths exam. They eat takeaway pizza, I warm up the puffs in the oven, finally taking advantage of the facilities. </p><p>The concert is wonderful, different to the others earlier in the year. I return after 10.30 pm and everything is closed. I write <a href="https://allrite.blog/2022/06/02/the-music-of-john-williams-a-90th-birthday-celebration/">my review</a>, but can't seem to fall asleep afterwards. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlTmFlyaJIStpX-7hLVUp4Kd3LHZYOA3LeIg34vtiDDPSPfXNADfGDgDg6PAlSslnR6iMowDWVHxNNvIyDGnhuhGQH0N5p13yZo3KezsEAC_COGcbPBmv0S2wA4nglp3gXqm-GdaZ117ikjmW5QDiNSbuk7ZdX70HPJQSOKB_Fah_N6T_xgmffVqmr-g/s5333/DSC_4529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlTmFlyaJIStpX-7hLVUp4Kd3LHZYOA3LeIg34vtiDDPSPfXNADfGDgDg6PAlSslnR6iMowDWVHxNNvIyDGnhuhGQH0N5p13yZo3KezsEAC_COGcbPBmv0S2wA4nglp3gXqm-GdaZ117ikjmW5QDiNSbuk7ZdX70HPJQSOKB_Fah_N6T_xgmffVqmr-g/w640-h360/DSC_4529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>When the alarm clock sounds to leave I am not mentally capable of handling a decision to fly. </p><p>I cross the Yarra, catch a train from Flinders Street Station to Southern Cross and try to make a decision. Eventually the train wins with the promise of a seat and sleep. </p><p>A vending machine takes my money without giving a drink in return. I don't want a panini, the other shops and cafes are closed. I will just have to take my chances on the train.</p><p>I board and the journey home begins.</p><p>It ends with us arriving late into Campbelltown and then another two trains back to Padstow, where B and Alex wait in the car.</p><p>I regret not flying, arriving home early to be with the family. But then I would not have had the chance to relax for an entire day, to ignore the emails of other people's problems and just have some me time.</p><p>It's not a bad way to travel if you've got the time to spare.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcdVfEBkc-KNKvwK0vqWYcUTuoXIa0a3yS5ENsOYnDGNM94EV8iVyRqowT7FCmh3YUdvL3cZPFzQMkv_bfaLFrYlFQ5-iBWqvFZO5vKX4wSDWU7zRISzT7rzaKspj5Jqo_wHr-s0QsJ4D8Dg7ZPm_1lwTOq8NDo_wuKlPxl0slkPcC-k_HCN3LVUnzQ/s5333/DSC_4575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcdVfEBkc-KNKvwK0vqWYcUTuoXIa0a3yS5ENsOYnDGNM94EV8iVyRqowT7FCmh3YUdvL3cZPFzQMkv_bfaLFrYlFQ5-iBWqvFZO5vKX4wSDWU7zRISzT7rzaKspj5Jqo_wHr-s0QsJ4D8Dg7ZPm_1lwTOq8NDo_wuKlPxl0slkPcC-k_HCN3LVUnzQ/w640-h360/DSC_4575.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div><br /></div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-55670712149620576712022-05-31T22:53:00.004+10:002022-05-31T22:53:33.740+10:00Daylight XPT to Melbourne<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsg6AaCQjdJly0XK_YFm4BTL8mPBwANenmj3pCkNZ62GovJKLbA7Vse6f5KhLQs7SYQ1RWcybu6t45pJHpEKJIt8aOawyRad44NRry8xn_jI3b6AwOLp4C9aAXdwWfZTSFwfECmLUNOJy5TqEWFWyqAQkAEplEGe3M7uXPTYC6oBPUmN66Yv8OIFYQyw/s5333/DSC_4359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsg6AaCQjdJly0XK_YFm4BTL8mPBwANenmj3pCkNZ62GovJKLbA7Vse6f5KhLQs7SYQ1RWcybu6t45pJHpEKJIt8aOawyRad44NRry8xn_jI3b6AwOLp4C9aAXdwWfZTSFwfECmLUNOJy5TqEWFWyqAQkAEplEGe3M7uXPTYC6oBPUmN66Yv8OIFYQyw/w640-h360/DSC_4359.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>I have caught the train between Sydney and Melbourne many times before, even back to the Southern Aurora as a seven year old, but never have I ridden the day service between Australia's largest cities. Today I changed that.</p><p>My celebrations of composer John Williams' 90th birthday continue with another concert by the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. Only the Sydney Symphony appears to be without a dedicated John Williams concert this year and that means that I have to travel. I already drove to Melbourne for <a href="https://allrite.blog/2022/02/12/happy-90th-birthday-john-williams/">one concert in February</a>, missing out on Adelaide's, and <a href="https://allrite.blog/2022/04/30/cinematic-the-john-williams-birthday-party/">up to Brisbane</a>. I also drove to Adelaide and Melbourne on the school holidays.</p><p>That's enough driving. So here I am in the train.</p><p>I'm not used to getting out of bed before 7 AM now. Neither have I had to pack light for a while. With a car you can just toss everything in the boot, but I want to travel only with cabin baggage. For the train it is only supposed to be 5 kilograms in weight, but I know they won't check. Not so if I fly back.</p><p>B and Alex drive me to Padstow, where I catch a train one stop to Revesby, then another to Campbelltown where I will meet the XPT. It's very chilly outside, a sudden cold front is striking the eastern states with the lowest temperatures they might experience all year. It is not even winter yet. That's tomorrow.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5ECGX1Yxpb32HCiXSBC_UJD8C1lDbBK8m1R3ynz5l_GxWHJ_9Mxxp-No0ajOxjWJiDGxu_b-USwSOBtDsyehwZsFkyF2bpxZM6nk0OD4kQSQ7VmrRlT-JYqYlHrOa1po8UF_JRfxnghOVz5ZRrAyhoH9_tuYXt_i0XCzFDRbaWoG2r4omxuFw2JgJw/s5333/DSC_4345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5ECGX1Yxpb32HCiXSBC_UJD8C1lDbBK8m1R3ynz5l_GxWHJ_9Mxxp-No0ajOxjWJiDGxu_b-USwSOBtDsyehwZsFkyF2bpxZM6nk0OD4kQSQ7VmrRlT-JYqYlHrOa1po8UF_JRfxnghOVz5ZRrAyhoH9_tuYXt_i0XCzFDRbaWoG2r4omxuFw2JgJw/w640-h360/DSC_4345.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>I rarely catch the train out this way. Now it recalls our drive to Glenfield to get Alex his covid vaccinations at the NSW Health clinic setup just for that purpose. It is interesting to see the land from another perspective. </p><p>I was concerned where to stand on the platform at Campbelltown for my carriage, but frequent announcements are made over the PA. I see the nose of the XPT approaching. It is adorned with a big "40", for its fortieth anniversary of service in April last year. Next year its replacements are due to begin entering service. Sadly, they are unlikely to go any faster, not without serious track realignment. Today's journey will take longer than if I had driven.</p><p>I am in car B, ostensibly in First Class. The seats are thick and covered with blue patterned fabric. They are comfortable enough. The cabin is clean and fresh, not looking at all like it is 41 years old. This stop, like all of them, is brief, and we are soon rolling out. The interior is surprisingly quiet.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-EB8_VDdQydUwrTYJtgLA44Q3Tk9antEqFlXyc30uJ0DHKloAcFPYhiS9tG-bTdjvQ5NxH6wCwvy2hNVzbYikF4PdbO-csTItrD9xCZPEhg2e8sJ9IkD1VS3pZah27QMZ46OKbtXamDFj0pORBstGSBSd_vpNhkmob8_iiX9Dljjf8jY73oHTH3Zu7A/s5333/DSC_4368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-EB8_VDdQydUwrTYJtgLA44Q3Tk9antEqFlXyc30uJ0DHKloAcFPYhiS9tG-bTdjvQ5NxH6wCwvy2hNVzbYikF4PdbO-csTItrD9xCZPEhg2e8sJ9IkD1VS3pZah27QMZ46OKbtXamDFj0pORBstGSBSd_vpNhkmob8_iiX9Dljjf8jY73oHTH3Zu7A/w640-h360/DSC_4368.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>When driving back into Sydney along the Hume I love to watch the trains along the stretch between Campbelltown and Menangle, where the train leaves or returns into metropolitan Sydney. The something about those dry grassy hills, the embankment higher than the road. Now I am admiring it the other way around.</p><p>Then we enter the scenery of the Southern Highlands, the reds and golds of deciduous trees that are only now discovering that autumn is almost over. Quaint buildings and posh farmhouses, green fields and winding willow-lined creeks.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSRLbptK8RbfFMg_uEbXQem58K6RTOCNYDbKEzYvqr8ddcCX4HN2RBaYYD5VPdy8-ci2HuHgpaDur-bYU3zFTI0mRdyATquF_2CheiPL1O5cQqY6lrvy5A0mNvJGRdFwt51mG0A39Q47A728sql1-dLxqbtIy5ShHcdXLrqiPEpi6A6aC5Va29KqqIkw/s5333/DSCPDC_0002_BURST20220531092723848_COVER.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSRLbptK8RbfFMg_uEbXQem58K6RTOCNYDbKEzYvqr8ddcCX4HN2RBaYYD5VPdy8-ci2HuHgpaDur-bYU3zFTI0mRdyATquF_2CheiPL1O5cQqY6lrvy5A0mNvJGRdFwt51mG0A39Q47A728sql1-dLxqbtIy5ShHcdXLrqiPEpi6A6aC5Va29KqqIkw/w640-h360/DSCPDC_0002_BURST20220531092723848_COVER.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>The route is familiar to me until south of Goulburn, where the line to Canberra diverges. Then comes countryside I have only seen at night or from the window of a car or bus. Bare fields and granite boulders forming natural sculptures on the hills. I love this countryside, though I have driven through it so often. It is more intimate from the train.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwL4yN2wG1glkZvnJQEnzx5OXwlU4xwDvlqzAVAml0vc0yxF_aHlAtZUAPVITQ2tCnpqb0wIiL39MGhTiLh2c71bfib0855X9PUjKdgNk9Zb6JRTu-1IOXRKBOXsgJPp9tMTImUsw0eTY57uTxWsAxtbyR452gQropK8F8pvAB9EAegJ_jaZYmlS447Q/s5333/DSC_4391.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwL4yN2wG1glkZvnJQEnzx5OXwlU4xwDvlqzAVAml0vc0yxF_aHlAtZUAPVITQ2tCnpqb0wIiL39MGhTiLh2c71bfib0855X9PUjKdgNk9Zb6JRTu-1IOXRKBOXsgJPp9tMTImUsw0eTY57uTxWsAxtbyR452gQropK8F8pvAB9EAegJ_jaZYmlS447Q/w640-h360/DSC_4391.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>It is very windy outside and I am glad that I didn't fly, for this would be awful weather. At this altitude on the inland plateau we seem so close to the huge puffy clouds that scoot past. Sometimes showers strike, other times the sun pokes through.</p><p>I takeout a small paperback novel, <i>Flashforward</i>, that was previously unread in my collection. It was small and light enough to justify fitting it in my bag. I laugh inwardly when, at a point where the characters' consciousness is suddenly sent 20 years into the future and the music on my headphones is randomly playing Zimmer's "Afraid of Time" from <i>Interstellar</i>. </p><p>Many freight trains pass us heading north. A brown and yellow heritage DEB set railcar surprises me in a cutting past us, probably a special rail tour also heading in the opposite direction to us.</p><p>I see disused spurs and grain silos, the produce now inefficiently carried by truck. It saddens me. Once the railway served many stops and industries. Now it is all containerised or carried in hoppers, making watching freight trains a lot less interesting, business that once backed directly on to the lines or sidings, now mostly shipping by truck to bulk logistics centres if they use the railway at all. </p><p>We pass Yass Junction, where once I warmed myself by a gas fire after walking on a cold night from the town in order to meet B on a night XPT to Sydney.</p><p>When I studied in Canberra, there was a year when I would visit her in Albury. Most times I caught the morning bus to the southern city, but sometimes it was the night coach through Yass and Harden to Cootamundra, from where I would transfer to the XPT. Now I caught the train through those historic towns. The latter, along with Junee, show their railway heritage, the big pubs across from the station hinting at the days when they were major transport hubs.</p><p>The farmland has changed from the grasslands and granite to irrigated farms. Rivers are high and mud is everywhere, hinting at a lot of rain. The sky is dramatic, thick grey clouds threatening more than just rain, and the cabin crew warn that it is freezing outside. Since leaving Sydney there have been frequent rainbows in the hazy skies to our left</p><p>Hot meals are available to order: Roast pork, beef hickory (whatever that is), vegetarian lasagne or spaghetti bolognese, all for $10.50. The crew come through the cabin taking orders, it is heated up, and then you collect it from the buffet car. I have no intention of ordering it, knowing them to be <a href="https://allrite.blog/2022/04/08/curried-prawns/">the kind of meals you find in the freezer section</a> of your supermarket. I brought my own lunch, a chicken caesar wrap from Seven Eleven.</p><p>I'm hesitant to take my mask off to eat. Many are without in the cabin, despite them being compulsory, and some are coughing. I don't want to get sick while travelling. It's happened to a few people I know.</p><p>I am trying to work on the train, but the phone reception and hence internet is terrible. At the town of Dwayne Johnson (The Rock) I am supposed to dial in for a team meeting. There is enough time to wonder at my masked face before the connection drops out again. I wish they would fix this.</p><p>We reach the Albury on the southern border of New South Wales. Here there is a change in cabin crew, but it is one of my shortest recent stays in the city. Then we cross the Murray River border into Victoria. </p><p>The sky to the east looks completely and ominously dark grey, whereas patches of blue can be seen between the clouds to the west. But when I look at the ground I see white. Has it been snowing? I suspect hail.</p><p>In the golden sunlight of the late afternoon I can see the tail of one huge cloud mass, wispy streamers and bulging, pendulous mammatus structures hinting at the level of convection and drama within. No, I am very glad I am not flying.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtzPPYO2oMVS4ugQnC6s9cjIJuvSovzSZ--qB1rP3Mh-Z82vWK7wy83l-o1yhrHrBPAtkXPlPWcxOaElZGJSUEuq_rTVGvFKsB5brUufgMMIV0GglNUlX9Swuauy_bqgMz5UDw6euMokfi-aL8e8syT56IsRB4uGKH7xwkeU1Ypv0ePoUROk6FLtPxfQ/s5333/DSC_4456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtzPPYO2oMVS4ugQnC6s9cjIJuvSovzSZ--qB1rP3Mh-Z82vWK7wy83l-o1yhrHrBPAtkXPlPWcxOaElZGJSUEuq_rTVGvFKsB5brUufgMMIV0GglNUlX9Swuauy_bqgMz5UDw6euMokfi-aL8e8syT56IsRB4uGKH7xwkeU1Ypv0ePoUROk6FLtPxfQ/w640-h360/DSC_4456.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidSxucOEwBV3BwFwDtq9EecWml7uDHzGBXwDL_eknDPdl3q_44-gYk5JsFGVHJNkRrtJxPP78v8BYoM-W7UxPQBtcVjyLMQ02sKR00QU_827Sm2glKy6RxStqbdKkPjgACj2N8dCOT_usIGp2e1unRC6AOW0zNF-BNBTy3z8pWNhXXPGbeVpcwZyE4GA/s5333/DSC_4465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidSxucOEwBV3BwFwDtq9EecWml7uDHzGBXwDL_eknDPdl3q_44-gYk5JsFGVHJNkRrtJxPP78v8BYoM-W7UxPQBtcVjyLMQ02sKR00QU_827Sm2glKy6RxStqbdKkPjgACj2N8dCOT_usIGp2e1unRC6AOW0zNF-BNBTy3z8pWNhXXPGbeVpcwZyE4GA/w640-h360/DSC_4465.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>We pass more historic towns, served by local Victorian trains, and I wish that I could stop to explore some more. I am tired and a bit headachy. Glad that I am not driving, but wishing too that I could get off the train. At least I can pull over in a car.</p><p>I wonder why the sign at the end of the carriage points to the buffet when it is at the other end. The reason is revealed when the cabin crew make the announcement that we are actually all seated in a "misplaced' economy car and therefore due refunds.</p><p>Most passengers think it's no big deal. The seating is pretty comfortable regardless, just with a bit less legroom and recline. It's more the passengers themselves that are the reason to travel in first class. Most XPTs that I have caught tend to get boarded by police at one point or another to remove a passenger. Not today.</p><p>Another meal service is announced and it is exactly the same dishes.</p><p>I briefly fall asleep a couple of times.</p><p>The light outside fades as we close in on Melbourne. Passenger trains and railcars pass us. Then city lights and we are within the suburban network of electric trains.</p><p>The approach into Melbourne city is always impressive, despite the dark. Unlike Sydney, we pass through huge railyards, giving a sense that you are at the end of an epic train journey. </p><p>We slowly pull into the terminus at Southern Cross Station, a busy hub of regional and suburban trains, surrounded by the colourfully lit buildings of Docklands.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhojufqzh-AVwECSE40lZpD5rBptLYQCu-X6rtTRs0Uu80wP4ijNBD4eQVN_apDi_ITtBc4Ct--aOkhl1qdt6uNb3qLc3ynrIYceAylerHLur-yplHLSiHmROzjx5ZOeAyHi6yARr7jx1oy346Th-isknJr-y1ZnUu6myb3pY9LCMvcA7va4E1XM_4YPA/s5333/DSC_4470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhojufqzh-AVwECSE40lZpD5rBptLYQCu-X6rtTRs0Uu80wP4ijNBD4eQVN_apDi_ITtBc4Ct--aOkhl1qdt6uNb3qLc3ynrIYceAylerHLur-yplHLSiHmROzjx5ZOeAyHi6yARr7jx1oy346Th-isknJr-y1ZnUu6myb3pY9LCMvcA7va4E1XM_4YPA/w640-h360/DSC_4470.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgicLHBRh3Iz_2m_5Z0hzzmRtkpB72sW-DKloCA06hun75u6B1p16IO2yK27NuN13XE6i8wgNllUH2diWjcS-RhboPNK5jTu7QvUHitoDWREEVrNHUj9V1FNO8llISO622cTVpay_sA85toFiVaCxprKArhbx9mpsDGvCLsbBq0MFf58w8tHbFn74K9aw/s5333/DSC_4471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgicLHBRh3Iz_2m_5Z0hzzmRtkpB72sW-DKloCA06hun75u6B1p16IO2yK27NuN13XE6i8wgNllUH2diWjcS-RhboPNK5jTu7QvUHitoDWREEVrNHUj9V1FNO8llISO622cTVpay_sA85toFiVaCxprKArhbx9mpsDGvCLsbBq0MFf58w8tHbFn74K9aw/w640-h360/DSC_4471.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Most of the eateries are closed, so I hurry over to the suburban section to catch a train on stop to Flinders Street Station. It is spitting rain and the wind is freezing.</p><p>The train that arrives is an "old" Comeng. It's strange to think of it as around the same age as the XPT. I remember doing a school assignment on the Comeng "Super train" when I was in Year 3. Victorian Railways sent me an information pack with stickers and a cardboard model of it.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrc6lqdOEjCvfI3-o3t0Eb0yXXTwCsSVjhR6WCr-p81zDFH2LHQdARlOHTLTe9JKp8U-_oT7lgoINSo1iGgGi2ohqz7QwWyghtbmCUTwPgqzTLCDHxWwoiVXQ9-TdqF8WmxzNwhxQkul2fs7UexM5cA6AW_y195jPk9Sptl506TaaIUspcadCRqzYGQ/s5333/DSC_4473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrc6lqdOEjCvfI3-o3t0Eb0yXXTwCsSVjhR6WCr-p81zDFH2LHQdARlOHTLTe9JKp8U-_oT7lgoINSo1iGgGi2ohqz7QwWyghtbmCUTwPgqzTLCDHxWwoiVXQ9-TdqF8WmxzNwhxQkul2fs7UexM5cA6AW_y195jPk9Sptl506TaaIUspcadCRqzYGQ/w640-h360/DSC_4473.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Though it is only a stop away, that elevated curve between Southern Cross and Flinders Street evokes memories of childhood train rides in the night. I get out at Flinders Street and hurry across the Princes Bridge over the Yarra to Southbank, where my hotel apartment awaits.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeURt6_nTMPTVh-eWv23wH45IWvEXdXn8hBLGx1sSHzO2ZSTnDLPriRsmVd9Oz0R6AZnJvIIgCGbHx4oJ6DbsddBuZjnBkPczxoLPoxADT_c1B0brg3ChhgY2u_kcPxMMn4dZ0ZhChv0y-6zREn-6zvSk2tyQoc1cOqqhJI0_Gre8cTymAwxrQTD1k_Q/s5333/DSC_4477.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeURt6_nTMPTVh-eWv23wH45IWvEXdXn8hBLGx1sSHzO2ZSTnDLPriRsmVd9Oz0R6AZnJvIIgCGbHx4oJ6DbsddBuZjnBkPczxoLPoxADT_c1B0brg3ChhgY2u_kcPxMMn4dZ0ZhChv0y-6zREn-6zvSk2tyQoc1cOqqhJI0_Gre8cTymAwxrQTD1k_Q/w640-h360/DSC_4477.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>After dropping off my stuff and giving a quick call to the family I head out again. I am hungry, but I don't want to go far. Fortunately, a hundred metres down there's a tiny Japanese cafe next to a noodle bar hidden away beside a small supermarket. I eat a bowl of katsu curry and I feel like I might be in Asia, though where exactly I'm uncertain with the owners speaking Cantonese rather than Japanese! </p><p>So here I am back in the apartment. I'm glad I didn't fly and I'm mostly glad I didn't drive. Mostly, because sitting in a car by yourself you don't need to wear a mask in the hope of not catching covid and you can decide when and where you will stop and what you want to eat. But you don't have to worry about getting tired in a train, nor do you have to navigate your way into the centre of the city.</p>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-78965944199194810252022-04-19T21:59:00.000+10:002022-04-19T21:59:46.531+10:00Not so Smart<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div>After spending the night on the apartment couch, while B and Alex had the queen bed, it is time to leave Canberra and begin our journey home. So as not to entirely waste a visit to the city, we first make a stop at the National Gallery of Australia. <div><br></div><div>Alex wanted to revisit the War Memorial, but due to a spectacularly senseless reconstruction it is even more restricted than before.</div><div><br></div><div>Unfortunately, at the brutalist concrete gallery there are no tickets to the Jeffrey Smart exhibition until too late in the afternoon. At this point Alex let's us know that he is currently studying Smart's art at school, which just frustrates us further.</div><div><br></div><div>Nonetheless, we decide to have a wander at the rest of the free exhibitions at the gallery.</div><div><br></div><div>I love a good art gallery. There are few places more relaxing and yet stimulating as a gallery. The selection is very different to our last visit and I feel like I have changed too. The staid old classic styles no longer hold my interest as much as the contemporary and Indigenous art.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>That trip to the Northern Territory really changed my perception of Indigenous art and culture, just as travel to Europe helped us understand and appreciate the Impressionists.</div><div><br></div><div>We spend a lot longer than intended in the gallery. Fortunately, we did also catch some glimpses of the Smart exhibition.</div><div><br></div><div>Driving back to Sydney, I detour through Majura Park to grab some lunch at the shopping centre. Really we just want something quick and convenient. Banh mi and sushi. </div><div><br></div><div>I wish we could have stayed longer to admire the airport, with a Qantas 717 and a Virgin 737 both coming up close.</div><div><br></div><div>I want to reach home before the predicted rain and storms. Traffic on the Hume Highway is heavy and the driving requires a lot of concentration. Still, it really does feel like the shortest leg. It is certainly the most familiar. </div><div><br></div><div>The house smells musty, but the fish all seem to be alive. We go out for pizza for dinner and enjoy using our own television.</div><div><br></div><div>As I write this a line of storms has struck, bring strong gusts of wind and heavy rain. A welcome home present after the glorious weather of our trip. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Even more welcome: A firm bed and pillows. <br></div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-61292560169510052812022-04-18T19:25:00.001+10:002022-04-18T19:25:57.128+10:00A wet drive to Canberra<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div>We sadly say farewell to our room at the Pan Pacific and its wonderful view and drag our luggage to the car. I miss the entrance to the freeway on my first attempt, but after chucking a "u-ey" the escape from Melbourne proceeds relatively smoothly.<div><br></div><div>It's raining fairly heavily once we are on the highway and the conditions require a lot of focus. At one point we see a Volkswagen SUV with police and other services in attendance. It has smashed into something on the median. Earlier, a car towing a caravan could be seen billowing smoke with the fire brigade helping a long delays for commuters heading south.</div><div><br></div><div>I am not game to pull over into a service centre to grab breakfast, not in that rain, then need to deal with the same traffic again.</div><div><br></div><div>Fortunately the rain abates as we approach Albury and the New South Wales border.</div><div><br></div><div>We park near Myer in Albury and discover that Miss Amelie's deserves the awards for their pies when we take lunch there. Plus one last jelly slice from the Beechworth Bakery store.</div><div><br></div><div>Searching out cheaper petrol we then drive to Holbrook, joining the crowds. I'm tired, so B takes over driving duties. I have a short nap, then admire the steel sky of high and low cloud, bathing the yellowed grasslands in a beautiful light.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Pretty deciduous autumn trees line the Barton Highway after Yass. Before we reach our hotel in Canberra, we stop to buy some takeaway Chinese food in Dixon and change drivers. </div><div><br></div><div>We are back at Alex's favourite accommodation in Canberra, the Deco Hotel. One last night before we return home. </div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-17560729782596814772022-04-17T21:53:00.000+10:002022-04-17T21:53:46.643+10:00Sarawak laksa and bak kut teh<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div>Travel is a series of quests for us. They give it structure and purpose even if the quests themselves are no more than a MacGuffin.<div><br></div><div>The theme running through our Melbourne trip has been Malaysian food and, on our final day, I wanted to ensure we tried some more interesting dishes.</div><div><br></div><div>For me it was Sarawak laksa. Then B asked about bak kut teh. Google seemed to know what we were thinking for it quickly autocompleted "best bak kut teh in Melbourne" and provided an answer: Bak Kut Teh King in Box Hill.</div><div><br></div><div>Box Hill has the advantage of being accessible via public transport. We are sick of walking and a rail ride into the suburbs is just what we need.</div><div><br></div><div>We catch a tram from the casino up the Stop 58: Box Hill Interchange. It's quite an interesting ride, out of the CBD past a fire station I suddenly recalled visiting on a school excursion, though multicultural Richmond and into wealthy old Kew. The ride takes an hour. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Box Hill is a very Asian area with lots of Chinese shops. Bak Kut Teh King is just opening and is already popular. I don't eat this Chinese herbal stew myself, but B and Alex love it. They order a small serve, supposedly only for one but more than filling for both, some delicious onion rice and a yutiao stick. They agreed it was as good as any they have tasted, and better than B's own version.</div><div><br></div><div>Once finished, we walk around to the street behind the shopping centre to try Hainan Chicken. Sadly, this is only passable and not up to B's fine standards.<br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Inside the shopping centre is like being in Asia. Alex buys a doughnut from a Japanese style bakery, B and I a couple of Hokkaido cream cheese tarts.</div><div><br></div><div>The train back takes half the time of the tram. There is something I just love about Melbourne trains and they bring back so many memories. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>We rest back in the hotel, eventually awakened around 5pm by housekeeping. The poor young Indian lady is run off her feet and the hotel is obviously understaffed. We feel sorry for her rather than annoyed by the lack of cleaning.</div><div><br></div><div>The sky is clouding over and the scape of the skyscrapers visible out of our hotel window has taken on a sense of a mysterious fantasy. I can imagine them as a watercolour painting. They seem dead, yet also strangely alive with non-existent spirits. The trams that pass their bases are toy trains on a model railway layout. If I were alone up here I feel like I could stare at the view and write a story. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>It takes two tram rides to Queen Victoria Markets and Sarawak Kitchen, where it was my turn to choose dinner. Sarawak laksa has a different spice blend to other Malaysian laksa and it has been a long time since I've last had one. Alex joins me in my choice, while B has Kolo Mee, another noodle dish from Sarawak.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>I can't say it was the best meal we've had, but at least it was different and the iced Milo tasted like the real thing.</div><div><br></div><div>The night city is bustling on this Easter Sunday night. There are crowds of young people walking the streets and queuing up for trendy restaurants. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>We catch a tram back to the Casino stop, just as the flame show is exploding in the sky. As we walk back to the hotel, along the river and past the throbbing music of the food trucks I feel a sadness at leaving the city. The experiences feel incomplete, as if there is more to be done in this world of night lights and empty skyscrapers.</div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-72738293705409382242022-04-16T20:40:00.000+10:002022-04-16T20:40:14.166+10:00Melbourne Zoo<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div>I remember a number of outings to Melbourne Zoo as a child. I daresay a lot has changed since then. The zoo train sadly went during my childhood and today even the hints of tracks have disappeared. However, you can still catch a train to the zoo.<div><br></div><div>After a breakfast at the outlet centre above Southern Cross Station (known as Spencer Street when I was a kid) we went to catch a train. Unfortunately, the Myki stored on my phone has expired in the two and a bit years since it's last use. Very annoying! I have to get a new one.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>The Upfield train is an a refurbished Comeng. I did an assignment on them in grade 3.</div><div><br></div><div>The short train ride to Royal Park at the rear entrance of the zoo brings back a few other memories. I could have ridden it further!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Despite having visited both the Canberra and Adelaide Zoos this year, the Melbourne Zoo manages to impress.</div><div><br></div><div>It's not just the range of animal species, but the beautiful surrounds and enclosures. We especially enjoy the bamboo and Southeast Asian settings and buildings of the Trail of the Elephants. The butterfly house is fun too, with the insects taking a special liking to B.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS9vWBSo3fIxJadUH2E9V_97-d0YduDuFnIZ5KHPOLM9f1et7QATWuelHiUqhf4IEwWrhpcTJUmF2t7s4QPNBeVR-3ySoKN36zyTLzIYnchQl4W-XSt-uBu_b1aIvq7wTd-c8n3mfZEom8/s1600/1650105588140582-4.png" width="400">
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</div><br></div><div>The elephants themselves bring back memories of Thailand and I just wish that we could have a lunch of genuine noodles in the gorgeous traditional wooden buildings that surround the trail.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>We manage to see most of the animals, from the shy orang-utans hiding beneath their sheets, to posing ring-tail lemurs and elegant jabiru.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-E94wwhiWP3k2n5C1qN3K3qYfJa4KFJ6e5y7UgU8nul8ypdY0N2re1cHJWKNkmEMIhy2A7fdFMsojWiegLfNTh9RbivPIbo3u7GCmpEfHuvoFhdtxveZtJ5JN1AdQyxui89davWdM1W6H/s1600/1650105551273972-11.png" width="400">
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</div><br></div><div>There is also the most beautiful Japanese garden I have seen in Australia. The weeping cherry trees must be stunning in Spring.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Our feet are exhausted by the time we exit through the old iron turnstile gate of the main entrance. A tram takes us down Royal Parade, bringing back memories of childhood trips to the city and to school in Carlton.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Our arrival in the city leads to further exhaustion as B goes clothes shopping in H&M, Zara and Uniqlo while us males suffer.<br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div><div>By the time she finishes it is almost dinner. I lead us to Gypsy and Pig, a tonkatsu restaurant, but it doesn't seem to be open. Alex refuses to eat Malaysian food or ramen, of which there are other potential eateries within range.</div><div><br></div><div>We end up returning to Hardware Lane and sitting down at an expensive grill whose steak disappoints, though my kangaroo was nice.</div><div><br></div><div>As we walk back to the tram stop we pass a popular char kway teoh restaurant and B wants to take some away, despite the lack of a microwave. I suggest we return tomorrow.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>The tram returns us to Crown Casino. After B buys another of the brown suger bubble teas that she's fallen in love with we sit outside and feel the blasts of heat from the gas show. Then back to the hotel to give the feet a well deserved rest. </div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-70118131192977389092022-04-15T21:47:00.000+10:002022-04-15T21:57:59.745+10:00Puff Piece<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IC56hSoU1dvkSpXQGFGUE_d-d0WfrX2skw84wrk-viADGamf1oEjJx0XBB-E_z8P0Y7izmrYepHrDQcGAcfyymPi8VDbFQNwi1qrThwngOVHWQSGWK50lb0rOOco9QfkHnnm8U7fZqsS/s1600/1650023229077775-0.png" width="400">
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</div>Melbourne is supposed to be a foodies' paradise, but what would be open on Good Friday?<div><br></div><div>We walk along the south bank of the Yarra from our hotel until the Princes Bridge. Past the casino and the celebrity chef restaurants that exist outside our price range.</div><div><br></div><div>Crossing the Yarra, we head to Federation Square where the Moon exhibition is on display in the Atrium. By exhibition, I mean an inflated realistic Moon suspended from the ceiling with some electronic soundtrack.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>We cross the road near the remarkable Forum and walk down graffited Hosier Lane with all the other tourists taking selfies with the art. Back down to Swanston Street where the other two buy sushi from a chain store for their brunch. I save my stomach for later.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>The chain stores disappear to be reached by interesting Asian eateries. We turn left at Little Lonsdale Street and keep walking until we reach where I was looking for: Puff House, hidden next to an Asian grocery.</div><div><br></div><div>Oh, the light and flaky pastry of the chicken curry puff! The sweet and crumbly pork pies. So good!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>We turn left again at Elizabeth Street. So many shops I recognise from decades ago, so many new. </div><div><br></div><div>At the bottom of Bourke Street Mall, we catch the tram to Docklands City, our first family ride in a tram for a long time. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Docklands City is mostly closed. We walk through to the troubled and now permanently closed Melbourne Star giant ferris wheel. A few restaurants are open. But where are here for the Imaginaria.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>The Imaginaria is a darkened inflated tent with various interactive lightshow displays and projections. There are beanbags to relax and enjoy some exhibits, others involve climbing and jumping. It's not big, but it is both soothing and, sometimes, a little disturbing in a good way. We really enjoy it. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>We walk back through the Docklands to our hotel. Many shops and restaurants in the Docklands are closed. Not just for the Good Friday holiday, but judging by the unread letters on the floor, for good. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>The Docklands were once the working port of Melbourne. Some converted warehouses remain, old train tracks in the paved path. Most buildings are modern apartment towers and offices, some architecture interesting, others rather awful. </div><div><br></div><div>Blue and white North Melbourne Kangaroos and red and blue Western Bulldogs AFL fans stream towards Marvel Stadium for the night's game. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>We return to our room to find our room uncleaned due to number of check-ins on Good Friday and possibly staff off due to covid. Hope they feel better soon and can take the rest they need. That's more important than a clean room. </div><div><br></div><div>Alex is hungry again, so after a short rest we head back out, catching the free tram back to Bourke Street Mall. Wandering around through Hardware Lane, where the one restaurant we want to dine at is booked out and Little Lonsdale where another is closed, we somehow find ourselves back at Puff House. </div><div><br></div><div>We chilli burn our lips on tasty har mee noodles and takeaway yet more curry puffs and a pork pie. They really are great. </div><div><br></div><div>Heading back via trams and legs, Alex is still hungry and we buy him pizza at the Crown Casino food court, crowded with punters determined to lose. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>We walked almost nine kilometres today, according to our phones, and passed plenty of places whose food we want to try. Maybe we will over the next couple of days! </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-73306091421559395252022-04-14T22:54:00.000+10:002022-04-14T22:54:54.225+10:00City views<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div>I gripped the steering wheel tightly and swore.<div><br></div><div>"I told you I didn't want to drive in the city, but you guys insisted!"</div><div><br></div><div>I've just missed the turn to the hotel, after previously being stuck on parts of the motorway that the November 2021 GPS update doesn't know and now I have to go on a long detour through the centre of Melbourne. I knew my city navigation luck would run out and I knew it would be on this trip. Now I'm fuming.</div><div><br></div><div>Already I miss the quiet and simplicity of the beach towns. No pressure, no crowds, no rush. We packed up this morning shortly before checkout time and drove up to the bluff. Fortunately the walking trail was open today.</div><div><br></div><div>We watch the waves roll in, razor edges exploding with spray and white foam, stirring the sands below as surfers ride their crests. The crashing of the waves is white noise against the breath of the air. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>I feel like I could watch this for eternity, but we have to go. </div><div><br></div><div>We set off to Geelong, stopping for an unsuccessful foray into Kmart in Liverpool in search of replacement sandals for Alex. Returning to Asian Essence in Geelong's city centre, we have their beef rendang and other curries for our lunch. </div><div><br></div><div>Frustration mounts on the busy motorway to Melbourne as cars speed and tailgate and don't give way. When we enter the city the GPS is confused by the Westgate Tunnel construction changes and we find ourselves stuck in the wrong lane and forced to exit. </div><div><br></div><div>When we return the traffic is horrendously slow and dense and it is hard to know if we are in the correct lane for a future exit. Somehow we get off at the right place, but I miss that the third, rightmost, lane is the correct one for the next turn and end up heading back across the river and into streets with trams, pedestrians and idiots on electric scooters. </div><div><br></div><div>Thankfully I'm not forced back on to the motorway to correct my error, but it is still very stressful. It's hard enough trying to navigate when you also have to keep an eye out for somebody speeding through any vacant gap. </div><div><br></div><div>Finally I find the carpark and switch the engine off with great relief. I hope the drive out is easier because I refuse to drive anywhere else around the city during our stay. </div><div><br></div><div>We decided to treat ourselves during our time in Melbourne and book the Pan Pacific Hotel. It was actually one of the cheaper options due to its location and the fact I have somehow acquired status despite very infrequent stays with the brand. Even nicer was being upgraded to a family room with amazing city views.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>But no time to enjoy, because the DFO stores are adjacent to the hotel. </div><div><br></div><div>One of the most wonderful aspects of lockdown was not going on big shop ups. Endless stores, endless browsing and standing, waiting for B to make a decision.</div><div><br></div><div>I know I need more clothes, but mentally I just cannot cope with the shops, the crowds, the pressure here. My feet are sore and my head hurts by the time we return. </div><div><br></div><div>Then the next problem awaits: Dinner. It was so easy in Barwon Heads, only a few choices and the option to cook for ourselves. Here, so many eateries, but scattered all over the city. </div><div><br></div><div>How to find one that satisfies the demands of the others without requiring us to travel too far? </div><div><br></div><div>In the brilliant golden sunset light I take us to Food Hall, a collection of five individual stalls selling Thai, Korean, Malaysian, Japanese and Italian dishes around a common seating area. Surely we should be able to satisfy differing demands there. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>I love the ambience of the place tucked away behind the other buildings and almost beneath the busy suburban railway line, the big neon sign, the gritty-funky decor, the festoon lights outside. I felt a bit like I was in Blade Runner. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>There were only a couple of staff and the Cantonese speaking cook flitted between the individual stalls to prepare the different cuisines. My sambal Maggi mee with acar and beef rendang is actually really nice and so is B's nasi lemak, though her "curry chicken" is actually deep fried chicken in some sort of sauce. The Korean fried chicken is nothing special and Alex's tonkotsu ramen is not proper tonkotsu soup and not the normal ramen noodles, more Chinese than Japanese. But still very nice according to him, a comfort food. </div><div><br></div><div>I am just so taken with the atmosphere that I would be happy to return.</div><div><br></div><div>We cross back to the southern side of the river and walk past the brightly lit casino to the hotel. From our room we can watch the hourly flame shows, which lend an even greater Blade Runner feel to the city skyscraper lights. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>I hate to think what the skies would be like if we had Blade Runners' flying cars. Right now I am happy to get around on my own two legs. </div><div><br></div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-14929645802902855552022-04-13T22:47:00.000+10:002022-04-13T22:47:52.472+10:00Barwon Heads<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br><div>I'll be sad to leave Barwon Heads tomorrow. I feel like I could stay here a lot longer. Doing very little and enjoying it.<div><br></div><div>We take a long walk down the main street, past beach houses old and new and wooden churches with large gardens stopping by shops run by ladies with posh sophisticated accents and prices to match. Then up along the river. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>The tide is out, exposing sandbars and seaweed in shades of brown and red. Jellyfish and clear jellied sacs of snail eggs on the sand. Dogs racing along the sand, playfully chasing each other. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Turning around, we head in the direction of the sea. Behind the banks of the river is the caravan park my family sometimes camped in when I was a kid, part of my long history with this area. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Across the other side of the river the long crescent of the beach stretches all the way to the lighthouse at Port Lonsdale. I once walked that distance to the sound of the crashing waves. </div><div><br></div><div>Alex and I ascend the stairs up the bluff, but the walking track is closed. We walk back to the town, treat ourselves to a lunch before returning to the cottage. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>I have The House of Sun's by Alastair Reynolds to finish after discovering it in the used book collection in the cottage. </div><div><br></div><div>I cook fish in a cream sauce for dinner, using the remainder of yesterday's purchases. The last time we'll have a kitchen for five days. </div><div><br></div><div>Alex and I end the night with a drive back to the beach and a walk to the jetty. The tide is rushing in now, moonlight glittering off the ripples. Across the water, blinking colourful lights of beacons and the lighthouse. So many memories here. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div></div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-65995386200656957242022-04-12T18:26:00.001+10:002022-04-12T18:26:55.192+10:00Ozone layers<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div>The city across the bay is so far away it might be another world, as unreachable as your past. Yet here I am reliving a childhood of escaping that city for the peace of Bellarine.<div><br></div><div>I'm not certain I ever visited Portarlington, but it is now part of our story. We are back to buy seafood for our dinner. Then a late breakfast, disappointing, from the bakery. </div><div><br></div><div>We take a scenic drive along the coast and the flat waters of the bay, stop at Indented Head. A small boat is being loaded on to a trailer as we wall along the small wooden jetty into the blue waters. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWvi4hKg7HdWurWmiPZVru9oSSgqP865UQc4gHZZm7iD5uwDwO5ZpAtWW5QZVR5LQUOy3AQoCjLekiru46P2YokAJCC4_oj2TY3a02QUP3TgAqVPvz527aclOUW0IVs3w6NtfpJkM3LiQJ/s1600/1649751986788673-2.png" width="400">
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</div><br></div><div>It is so quiet here, so calm. The water sparkles, flickering reflections of the sun are stars in a sea. We take a stroll. Grasses and shrubs separate the path from the course sand and shell beach. To our left, high pines shelter a flock of galahs. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVgjoICk2dJkrczLpU7HQT1I2ifXZPTPRrWLEc8dN27AoL52ipqIGze_sOeRhg-jyMHhe9qivYmBwLxpDRB2qSk0cmMjSqN3gul4PeiuCTqcIEXezh_dtLvPnle02klQxrsOAGNVjN92Zq/s1600/1649751954458807-5.png" width="400">
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</div><br></div><div>We walk as far as the rusted wreck of the Ozone, a paddlesteamer deliberately sunk here in 1925. One wheel still stands out of the water, inhabited by a couple of fluorescently clad fishermen. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Pelicans and cormorants rest on a line of rocks. </div><div><br></div><div>Our drive continues on away from the coast and back to Queenscliff, where we have a lunch from the famous Trident Fish Bar, my favourite fish and chips shop. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>A detour in Ocean Grove for some ingredients for the mussels and fish we will be cooking for dinner tonight. Then rest at the cottage, a chance to read a book I have found there. </div><div><br></div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-27503142673934291912022-04-11T23:25:00.000+10:002022-04-11T23:25:37.178+10:00A study in grey<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div>The distant skyscrapers of Melbourne city float like ghostly silhouettes against a pale grey sky over the dark grey waters of Port Phillip Bay, an even darker line at the horizon separating sea and sky. A fast catamaran ferry cuts through the water, heading from the Portarlington jetty, where we stand, to the city, a little over an hour away.<div><br></div><div>It feels like it is much further, a mystical place that could never be reached, existing only as a temptation. </div><div><br></div><div>To the west of the flat expanse of the bay is a mountain range and the curved white hangers of Avalon Airport. Sadly not jets are flying to or from there as we walk along the breakwater enclosing the fishing boat harbour. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>A couple of jellyfish pulsate in the protected waters. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>The wind is strong and chill and when we return to the carpark I suggest a bowl of local mussel chowder at the Pier Street Cafe by the harbour. </div><div><br></div><div>B has the lovely smokey chowder, me some prawn linguine and Alex fish and chips. It is so good, so nice to eat quality food that we have not cooked ourselves for the first time in forever. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Alex had a bad sleep, so we return to the cottage to give him rest. </div><div><br></div><div>We have to rush to make a prebooked visit to the Marine and Freshwater Discovery Centre on the isthmus between Point Lonsdale and Queenscliff. The research and education centre houses a small touch tank and several small aquariums to teach about local sealife. </div><div><br></div><div>We touch sea urchins and Alex feeds chopped shellfish to crabs. There are seahorses with prehensile tails, starfish devouring mussels and out favourite, the tetradonts, of puffer fish and a beautifully patterned cow fish. It's actually quite an enjoyable experience. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>The centre overlooks some beautiful wetlands and, as we sat outside gazing at them, a Bellarine Peninsula Railway tourist train slowly chugged past. Wooden carriages towed by an ex-Tasmanian Railways diesel leading and a green steam engine with the face of Edward from Thomas and Friends at the rear. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>I don't think we'll ride the train this trip, but it's the perfect spot for admiring it. </div><div><br></div><div>Afterwards we drive down to Point Lonsdale and the lighthouse overlooking the entrance to the bay and its famous and deadly rip. We watch the Spirit of Tasmania pass through the rip and turn in towards Melbourne and a faint rainbow. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>I have so many memories of the lighthouse, which once flashed white, red and green. Old concrete gun and searchlight emplacements stand adjacent. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Strolling along the wooden jetty below we watch powerful waves roll in towards the shore, recall an even windier time when the crashed over the jetty itself. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Driving back into Queenscliff, despite the cold air, we buy Scandinavian ice creams and sausages for dinner, wander along the main street and inspect antiques. An old fashioned bookstore offers a more pleasant experience than its online counterpart. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>It's so nice to partake in these simple dining and shopping pleasures post lockdown, but also in quiet places away from crowds, still not trusting the safety of others with disease. </div><div><br></div><div>Back at the cottage I listen to pro-government propaganda pieces on a commercial television station while I cook. It would be nice to be overseas now the election has been called, to escape from the endless political inanity. </div><div><br></div><div>Then we put away our devices and play a card game, attempt to watch a movie and finally escape the cold under warm blankets, hoping for a day of more blue than grey tomorrow. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-25727618852863054162022-04-10T20:15:00.000+10:002022-04-10T20:15:07.693+10:00Church bells, jelly slices and ice cream<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div>Dong. Dong. Dong. And four more. St Paul's Church across the road provides a Sunday morning wake up alarm whether we like it or not.<div><br></div><div>For me, not. I had a headachy night with weird dreams. First thing I do when I get up is take a covid rapid antigen test (negative).</div><div><br></div><div>Eight chimes and then a celebratory carillon performance. </div><div><br></div><div>I walk across to K-mart and Coles to buy some supplies for nights indoors on our holiday. </div><div><br></div><div>It is quite late and we'll past breakfast when we head out down to the country town of Beechworth. It is nice to be off the motorway, driving through the hills, archways of trees above us, autumn colour around.</div><div><br></div><div>The Beechworth Bakery is full of tourists as we eat meat pies for brunch, pastries for treats and take away jelly slices and pink lamingtons for a later dessert. I buy more cordials and local vegetables for the trip, but we have had enough of quirky shops yesterday.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>The motorway to Melbourne is too familiar and boring, but not as stressful as I feared as I did not need to enter the city proper. I'm so focused on the road I can't enjoy what scenery there is and the many memories of the ride towards Geelong.</div><div><br></div><div>We stop in Geelong's city centre because B wants to try the Asian Essence Malaysian restaurant. The timing is too late for lunch and too early for dinner, so we order takeaway and continue on towards Barwon Heads.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div><div>The bright blue sky has clouded over with big cumulus clouds and the evening light is gorgeous as we drive the country road to the coast. </div><div><br></div><div>Before we relax in our accommodation we head into the centre of Barwon Heads to pick up some supplies. First we buy ice creams and take an evening stroll along the bridge across the river. It is so beautiful here and I have so many childhood memories of staying in the caravan park, strolling beneath the lamps, watching the Point Lonsdale lighthouse flash in the distance as cars rattle across the bridge.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Our accommodation is a lovely cottage that is perfectly equipped for relaxing in, with couches, daybeds, National Geographic magazines and old books.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>The Malaysian food is really good, one of the best beef rendangs I've tasted and excellent sambal. I think we might make another visit on the way out</div><div><br></div><div>But right now a Panadol and a sleep is in order. </div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-69198295044069947702022-04-09T21:44:00.000+10:002022-04-09T21:44:05.414+10:00South EasterThe Hume Highway is far too familiar now. After Jetstar cancelled our Easter school holiday flights to Japan (the country has not yet reopened to tourists) we eventually chose just to drive south. <div><br><div>For the third time this year, under grey showery skies, I drive the Mazda 6 down along the M5 and on to the Hume Motorway. Traffic isn't too bad, but I welcome the emptier roads after most turn off down the Federal Highway.</div><div><br></div><div>We break our journey at Jugiong, the quiet little town by the Murrumbidgee. Lunch is some very nice toasted sandwiches at the Long Pantry.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div><div>We don't stop again until we reach the day's terminus of Albury. Despite a fresh lick of pain and some new furniture, the Commodore Motel is disappointing, little like its Mount Gambier namesake. The one saving grace is its proximity to the main street of the town. </div><div><br></div><div>I rather like Albury. B spent a year at university here and I was a frequent visitor. Much has changed since then, but the main street retains its heritage buildings and a rather interesting selection of shops and eateries. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>The Myer department store is celebrating forty years in Albury. I have an unreasonable fondness for Myer and take pleasure in buying Alex a Lego set from the toy section, which has a number of amazing local Lego constructions on display. </div><div><br></div><div>Then we walk along Dean Street, the main drag, ducking in to buy card games from a couple of quirky toy and game shops. There will be a need to amuse ourselves at night on this holiday. </div><div><br></div><div>The range and reputation of restaurants is impressive, but we end up just crossing the road to Graze Burgers for dinner. Actually really good, not greasy at all. </div><div><br></div><div>Our outing is completed by a visit to Kmart. The various quirky stores we have passed through have given me a desire to construct something myself on this trip. I don't know what, but I know I'll need materials.</div><div><br></div><div>Hearing noisy engines and screeching guests, plus an insipid shower, makes me wish that we had booked somewhere nicer for our brief stay here. I'm really tired, not just from the drive but from the past months and years and I feel like a break. </div><div><br></div><div>Hopefully when we reach the coast that is what I will get. </div><div><br></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-33961562380834879022022-02-13T23:26:00.007+11:002022-02-13T23:26:59.792+11:00John Williams Birthday Bash Part 3<p>After a good night's sleep it is time to head back to Sydney and home. It's already a quarter to ten by the time I exit the hotel and carpark. I set the music to John Williams' complete score to the original three Star Wars movies. </p><p>Being a Sunday, the traffic is relatively light and not in a rush and I don't have to stress too much about navigating my way along the motorways out of the city. I'm glad I chose to drive rather than fly. As I head past the airport the wind is ferocious, buffeting the car. It would be a rough flight.</p><p>The car needs petrol, but I skip past the first few service stations until, an hour and a half later, I arrive at Avenel. On the way down I'd spotted hand painted roadside signs advertising smallgoods and a mysterious "bacon jam", so I thought I'd take a look on my return.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEioq5J8LbWYqu3ee3aoD8LqgyVaHHDyaoFWSIA7WOds6BhOXEdReleswE-dJ-4PO8FVn-kmzRDg39Eq1xDkk3h1fmDVRkqnR5OCGD36vEvm5KGpuQzH2rYSNU0pzW-RxmW_3duav-i5y_KHbZiH48K4XlYbePrNVVc2VBQ5b0yNOmvEz-gJIA02RtSj2A=s5333" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEioq5J8LbWYqu3ee3aoD8LqgyVaHHDyaoFWSIA7WOds6BhOXEdReleswE-dJ-4PO8FVn-kmzRDg39Eq1xDkk3h1fmDVRkqnR5OCGD36vEvm5KGpuQzH2rYSNU0pzW-RxmW_3duav-i5y_KHbZiH48K4XlYbePrNVVc2VBQ5b0yNOmvEz-gJIA02RtSj2A=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I bought a jar of the bacon jam, a savoury spread, from the roadside stall near the service station and grabbed some hot items for a brunch. A "sweet chilli chicken" (piece of chicken with flavoured crumb) and a couple of deep fried classic Victorian dim sims.</p><p>Then off again until Euroa, where I thought I'd look for a bakery and a different supplier of jelly slices.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgh5u-UxXz0FyprfGINl2uYh8h_IzWprdg0NJXmYv8Ln5U4V_AQZ0V3whl-MQAbW1Z8KzNvvcnBdypkTdCpIl-hejOM4Au8Ho7C-Db16xuII3p3lNLVqyuJ81NjqchEDcnGtYGAk5zRlZTvaqemo85tqd2_L3W2DTiYNJA-Sk-QOxRJzK6AvHwkr0cneg=s5333" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgh5u-UxXz0FyprfGINl2uYh8h_IzWprdg0NJXmYv8Ln5U4V_AQZ0V3whl-MQAbW1Z8KzNvvcnBdypkTdCpIl-hejOM4Au8Ho7C-Db16xuII3p3lNLVqyuJ81NjqchEDcnGtYGAk5zRlZTvaqemo85tqd2_L3W2DTiYNJA-Sk-QOxRJzK6AvHwkr0cneg=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Sorry, Burke's jelly slices are not up to scratch. </p><p>I'm feeling pretty yuck by the time I reach Albury. I'd woken up with a mild case of the runs and I just want to lie down. I stopped here to grab some additional delicacies from the Beechworth Bakery branch outside of Myer, but I don't want to end the day's travels here. Maybe I can keep going a couple of hours and stay the night at Gundagai or Yass.</p><p>After using the facilities, I allow myself a wander of the two levels of the Myer department store. It brings back memories of when B was a student in Albury and I'd come down to visit her.</p><p>I buy a few treats from the bakery for the others and a piece of sushi for my late lunch. On the way out I pass a Dymocks bookstore and end up buying a book for myself. I miss bookshops.</p><p>After the walk, a sushi and a drink I feel a lot better. Once I'm back on the highway I'm more comfortable, for this is familiar territory and the traffic is relatively light.</p><p>I look at the time and I'll be lucky to make Sydney before dark falls. The tank will need another filland I'm just going to play it by ear. If I need to stop for the night, I will, but the other two want me home.</p><p>I just keep driving and driving. Occasionally another car will annoy me and it's almost always a Volkswagen. It's like they cannot stop speeding and weaving in and out of traffic.</p><p>As the shadows lengthen the landscape is bathed in a wonderful golden light. I only wish that I had the time to stop for the day and admire it.</p><p>Gundagai and Yass come and go and I do not turn off. I really am feeling a lot better now. </p><p>The traffic gets worse after the merger of the Federal Highway from Canberra. Using the GPS history I set it for Marulan, where we filled up the car for the last time of the previous trip.</p><p>When I pull into the service station at Marulan there are a couple of Queensland cars with red ensigns hanging off them, indicating that their feral mulleted occupants were part of the idiotic "freedom" protests in Canberra. I wonder if they'll start bitching about the N95 mask I am wearing into the petrol station.</p><p>Thankfully they leave first. I fill up my tank and head back to the motorway. I'd wanted to have a look around Marulan, but there is not the time now.</p><p>The traffic entering Sydney is not too bad this time. I ignore the usual hoons and just give them the rightmost lane to be stupid in. </p><p>For this last leg I have set the audio to the Cinematic Sounds podcast's final episode of six celebrating John Williams' 90th birthday. I have timed it impeccably, because, as I turn off into my home suburb, his "Birthday Variations" play, the final piece of music.</p><p>And so it is that my own celebration of his music comes to a conclusion.</p><p>I'm very glad I made the effort to drive down to Melbourne to attend the concert. Of course I wish that I had longer, but I've seen and done a surprising number of things along the way and had a chance to enjoy some wonderful music.</p><p>Happy 90th Birthday Maestro!</p>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2748206359248547028.post-27603116990298894722022-02-13T00:17:00.001+11:002022-02-13T00:17:51.207+11:00John Williams Birthday Bash Part 2<p>There is something about the summer air in Victoria, especially in the mornings. Fresh and invigorating without the mind sapping humidity of the north.</p><p>I am in no great rush to leave Beechworth as my hotel in Melbourne would not be ready until the afternoon. I visit the bakery for more snacks and the grocer for more bottles of the local cordial.</p><p>When I do check out and begin my drive I admire the history of the town, the changing canopy of tree branches over the road.</p><p>Then we hit the highway and I must focus on all the other cars and ignore the scenery. I decide to pull over before entering Melbourne and give myself a few minutes to rest and compose myself.</p><p>The motorways into Melbourne are so wide it is difficult to know which lane to stick in so that you might take the correct exit. Fortunately most of the drivers seem patient bar two idiots that decide to weave unexpectedly through traffic.</p><p>I manage to make it to the car park without any dramas and am able to check into the Travelodge straight away.</p><p>After unpacking I head out for lunch. Southbank is busy with pedestrians and a few performers and the city looks gorgeous until a blue sky.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqRZNEGZLvt6pd0B8T5lBatF2O3eIe03Z4RwAqRBUJpwfTDzCM0VAA8IhSx2TzU1P2WfrdDtz0DMbSyzGrhnuv4oQ5fZil2sfijuq-z63CnzygjSowmLExBrKXOYuRnHRQJocXFPkKZKWMiAPbQPfT8X-pyCxj738y3FG489f9VZ-rA7oplnvnjcdLcQ=s5333" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqRZNEGZLvt6pd0B8T5lBatF2O3eIe03Z4RwAqRBUJpwfTDzCM0VAA8IhSx2TzU1P2WfrdDtz0DMbSyzGrhnuv4oQ5fZil2sfijuq-z63CnzygjSowmLExBrKXOYuRnHRQJocXFPkKZKWMiAPbQPfT8X-pyCxj738y3FG489f9VZ-rA7oplnvnjcdLcQ=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Most of the cheap eats seem closed, so I use Google to try to find a nearby eatery. I settle on a Malaysian place a few streets back, but end up eating "Butter and pepper noodles" which is actually quite yummy.</p><p>I'm in Melbourne for the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra "An Evening of John Williams" at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl in the parklands across the road. I decide to go a bit early and, carrying a picnic blanked and some food from a Seven-Eleven, I take a stroll through the park.</p><p>The warm air is filled with the scents of childhood memories.</p><p>There is already a small crowd gathered at the entrance to the outdoor music venue made famous nationally by the televised annual Carols by Candelight. This is my first time here.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEkQAb42sZ9jH-25r4RWpxWAMp1XG_dPrLVNUxj19bFjW3cP4CcMGJnrZyj3a3kXb7uknEutgbqx1jb8GtJdvMGlg2JUieUpv5FvZoJjdqTenLULmTZhnZiCyie86zt1Eg_NJdD13jJl6AtQgnbRwCq-kBmvCQTHbgcmEdN07UimZbTH8nAJHb4tNkjQ=s5333" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEkQAb42sZ9jH-25r4RWpxWAMp1XG_dPrLVNUxj19bFjW3cP4CcMGJnrZyj3a3kXb7uknEutgbqx1jb8GtJdvMGlg2JUieUpv5FvZoJjdqTenLULmTZhnZiCyie86zt1Eg_NJdD13jJl6AtQgnbRwCq-kBmvCQTHbgcmEdN07UimZbTH8nAJHb4tNkjQ=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>The <a href="https://allrite.blog/2022/02/12/happy-90th-birthday-john-williams/">concert is wonderful</a> and triggers so many memories of the city of my younger childhood. As I walk with the huge crowds back towards the hotel I admire the colourfully lit skyscrapers in the moonlight.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEisC_ZhL6Z1KHaJqMZinhlx0W4k9w8HFMbfB6exvhJUC-ZR306vP680qGNIChTxkMbyySQiQ2ADwCtCmNFAM1o0H5kTMhzv2z1sJAoA78Mtk0QIuXEtIalERrz3SrFL9fSZxv19qDXLWbz6A0YV-CuXSNaRqLrARI41a7DOF2a2ALFZNG06ElMTK08Tww=s5333" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEisC_ZhL6Z1KHaJqMZinhlx0W4k9w8HFMbfB6exvhJUC-ZR306vP680qGNIChTxkMbyySQiQ2ADwCtCmNFAM1o0H5kTMhzv2z1sJAoA78Mtk0QIuXEtIalERrz3SrFL9fSZxv19qDXLWbz6A0YV-CuXSNaRqLrARI41a7DOF2a2ALFZNG06ElMTK08Tww=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjCg_Zz21WQ5VjU3qeHSDFLXialYWGmfA04ic0CP1ivtkLi8BPNTEe2MO807qMnbnJdYFwHUH3ruxTgW5hKTVoRmgX4lQ01vHZAiYEqDMrlecI6zXUsoEWgpVviVZcP1ZM1aGIdPmPW3f_542EjrH-FhVzpCb4G0BtqOdWn1N3dmdMcTJm_uzlT4sHxvA=s5333" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjCg_Zz21WQ5VjU3qeHSDFLXialYWGmfA04ic0CP1ivtkLi8BPNTEe2MO807qMnbnJdYFwHUH3ruxTgW5hKTVoRmgX4lQ01vHZAiYEqDMrlecI6zXUsoEWgpVviVZcP1ZM1aGIdPmPW3f_542EjrH-FhVzpCb4G0BtqOdWn1N3dmdMcTJm_uzlT4sHxvA=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiR8L5q9AToS68p4SACOolBH-fUMyZyQwp7xqiDtc3Vrf_9HL8Cep3z9-L0uaPKodS5O41Q4DJSR0HTbQS1bSiDcLTsCO9WvzTJRapxJQOaZFbKg-hSCZb9jrey-6cjQxk9mKV8i156vRLyZswPd8oY6qTuVdvi3cO1Tqpddbhff93GUJabjBze_Lz4Tw=s5333" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="5333" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiR8L5q9AToS68p4SACOolBH-fUMyZyQwp7xqiDtc3Vrf_9HL8Cep3z9-L0uaPKodS5O41Q4DJSR0HTbQS1bSiDcLTsCO9WvzTJRapxJQOaZFbKg-hSCZb9jrey-6cjQxk9mKV8i156vRLyZswPd8oY6qTuVdvi3cO1Tqpddbhff93GUJabjBze_Lz4Tw=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>This is a beautiful city and I still love it. </p>allritehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04470337769944277343noreply@blogger.com0