A Town Like Alice.
A little knowledge is often a dangerous thing, George Bush, Sun readers for example, and if your most recognisable cultural icons include Steve Irwin and Crocodile Dundee then the unwary traveler is bound to be occasionally dissapointed.
Having soaked up Sydney sophistication (more later) I felt it was high time I got into a bit of bush (insert joke here) so I added my contribution to Australias' other well known feature, the ozone hole, and jetted up to Alice Springs.
Being neither 'young' nor 'enthusiastic' I eschewed the delights of dining amongst the similarly described residents of my hostel and headed into town. Frankly I was dissapointed. Where are the one horses, the dirt roads, the casual violence and rednecks crashing through windows onto (pedestrianised!) streets? Perhaps the outback would deliver....
Journey To The Center Of The Earth.
The Aussies. You've gotta love 'em they call a spade a spade. No trades descriptions infringements in the Red Center. It's both those things. Miles and miles and miles of it. As far as the eye can squint. Unchanging for hours. And hours. And hours. Just the occasional etch-a-sketch road connecting nowhere to nowhere. Dry as a camels mudflaps but harbouring a surprising amount of tough, scrubby life. After many years of struggle the world's hardest people (show me a yakuza running around naked spearing 'roos), the Aborigonies have finally begun to recognise the white man's right to practice his ancient art of bagging the modern day equivalent of the trophy head (photos) and no longer practise their pesky centuries old rituals at Uluru (the rock) and other sacred sights. Sadly the Aborigonies are rapidly losing their traditions in the face of growing indiference from the yout dem ('oh dad not ritual scaring again'). After all what would you do? Hike for three weeks in the buff to dig up some whichety grubs or pop down to Maccy D's in the yute? So the world's oldest and only continuous oral culture will soon have to be written down or lost forever. Notch up another sucess for western cultural imperialism.
A Rock And A Hard Place.
It's red and it's pretty geologically unique and impressive and I'm not going to say it's overrated (it is very big and, as we all know, size matters) but.... The Olgas! Five minutes down the road, just as impressive, a quarter the people, more of them for your money (quantity counts too) and you can walk round them without recreating the egg-on-a-hot-pavement effect with your head. Into this lush prehistoric landscape we descended, feeling like Indiana Jones and keeping an eye out for any stray Pterodactyls. Two hours later, feeling more like Paula Radcliffe, we were spat out and went in search of the travelers other favorite sight. A cold tinny.
A new slogan for the Northern Territories Tourist Board I think. "The Outback, it's a good place to remind yourself how insignificant you are".
Next; Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea.
A little knowledge is often a dangerous thing, George Bush, Sun readers for example, and if your most recognisable cultural icons include Steve Irwin and Crocodile Dundee then the unwary traveler is bound to be occasionally dissapointed.
Having soaked up Sydney sophistication (more later) I felt it was high time I got into a bit of bush (insert joke here) so I added my contribution to Australias' other well known feature, the ozone hole, and jetted up to Alice Springs.
Being neither 'young' nor 'enthusiastic' I eschewed the delights of dining amongst the similarly described residents of my hostel and headed into town. Frankly I was dissapointed. Where are the one horses, the dirt roads, the casual violence and rednecks crashing through windows onto (pedestrianised!) streets? Perhaps the outback would deliver....
Journey To The Center Of The Earth.
The Aussies. You've gotta love 'em they call a spade a spade. No trades descriptions infringements in the Red Center. It's both those things. Miles and miles and miles of it. As far as the eye can squint. Unchanging for hours. And hours. And hours. Just the occasional etch-a-sketch road connecting nowhere to nowhere. Dry as a camels mudflaps but harbouring a surprising amount of tough, scrubby life. After many years of struggle the world's hardest people (show me a yakuza running around naked spearing 'roos), the Aborigonies have finally begun to recognise the white man's right to practice his ancient art of bagging the modern day equivalent of the trophy head (photos) and no longer practise their pesky centuries old rituals at Uluru (the rock) and other sacred sights. Sadly the Aborigonies are rapidly losing their traditions in the face of growing indiference from the yout dem ('oh dad not ritual scaring again'). After all what would you do? Hike for three weeks in the buff to dig up some whichety grubs or pop down to Maccy D's in the yute? So the world's oldest and only continuous oral culture will soon have to be written down or lost forever. Notch up another sucess for western cultural imperialism.
A Rock And A Hard Place.
It's red and it's pretty geologically unique and impressive and I'm not going to say it's overrated (it is very big and, as we all know, size matters) but.... The Olgas! Five minutes down the road, just as impressive, a quarter the people, more of them for your money (quantity counts too) and you can walk round them without recreating the egg-on-a-hot-pavement effect with your head. Into this lush prehistoric landscape we descended, feeling like Indiana Jones and keeping an eye out for any stray Pterodactyls. Two hours later, feeling more like Paula Radcliffe, we were spat out and went in search of the travelers other favorite sight. A cold tinny.
A new slogan for the Northern Territories Tourist Board I think. "The Outback, it's a good place to remind yourself how insignificant you are".
Next; Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea.
posted by Kate at 5:58 PM
2 Comments:
Australians certainly are straight-talkers. I went out with Kate C from Oz for 2 months in 2002. What a summer! But when it was over, it was immediately over, and we were both free to move on. Beautiful women who are nonetheless a bit like blokes are a great idea...
when you say you felt like paula radcliffe, i hope you didn't actually 'do a radcliffe'. I imagine that does nothing to enhance international relations. Sounds like you are having a great time - keep running with those curveballs. Scarily, i am off to work shortly....
Post a Comment
<< Home