Tag: South Australia

Japan Part II – The Osaka Diaries…..

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It is winter in South Australia and the air is sighing. Everything is moving at a much slower pace compared to Japan. It was a 17 hour trip door to door and somehow, I happily avoided jet lag. My first walk in Japan was in the rain so no doubt that helped. Nothing it seems, cures all that ails like a walk through warm summer showers while looking for puddles.

Summer in Japan is lovely. It was hair curling humidity, vintage cotton tops, shorts, summer dresses, sandals, pony tails, and my favorite attire of loose men’s trousers. Back in Adelaide it has been wool jumpers, soft scarves, heavy coats and the peaty smell of wood burners.

This trip was broken-up into three regions. Osaka, Kanazawa and Hiroshima, and being a city gal, I loved Osaka. The beauty and energy of the city, the vibrancy of modernism to the deeply beautiful traditionalism, the trendy retro neighbourhood’s, uber cool speakeasys, and a city so literate yet so equally whimsical.

Some things evoked for me a simple joy. I loved being able to buy fresh Agedashi Tofu, miso-glazed eggplant, Inarizushi, gyoza and sweet Japanese curries of carrots, potatoes and onions served over sticky rice, and matcha nama – a stunning combination of dairy free dark chocolate, creamy coconut milk dusted with matcha powder all in the same day while seeking out the riches Osaka holds.

These are a few of my favourite things…..

Amerikamura – Amemura to the locals, is a vibrant neighbourhood and the epi centre for Japanese youth culture. For over 40 years, this area has morphed into a melting pot of pure culture and is filled to bursting with vintage fashion, collectables, iconic street food, bars, cafes and the creatives of Japan. With glitter on every corner, this colourful vibe tugged at my heartstrings and it is where I made a few treasured finds including an old vintage t-shirt and two vintage Japanese kewpie dolls. For me, this is a must visit destination for its unapologetic rebelliousness, and people watching. Regardless of age, I highly recommend taking the time out to visit.

422 Bookcafe & Bar – I could have visited this sophisticated little gem everyday to sit amidst the quiet, their beautiful books and the stolen moments of inspiration….. okay, so I did visit regularly and I was also in iced coffee and beer heaven 🙂 Owned by the Sogensha publishing company which was founded in 1892, there was something quietly magical about this space which always made me wish to linger longer. Serene and minimalist and filled with gorgeous books this little place offers so much more. It is a tranquil and peaceful reset for all book lovers and passionate creatives alike. It is so very clear Sogensha publishing are proud and passionate about their beautiful shop and rightly so.

Nunobiki Herb Gardens & Ropeway – Boasting gorgeous seasonal flowers and herbs totaling well over 75,000, and being one of the largest gardens in Japan, is reason enough to visit. But add the gondolier ride that lifts you from the city to the mountains while treating you to panoramic views of Osaka Bay, the harbour, Kobe, and the Inland Sea makes this a must do while in Osaka. Gently spread across the slopes of the Rokko Mountain Range, the mountain-elevation herb gardens, the stunning rose garden, the waterfalls, established trees, and surrounding mountains make for a peaceful escape from the summer heat but would no doubt be equally stunning anytime of the year. Serenity for green thumbs, horticulturalists, gardeners, non gardeners, garden gnomes, clodhoppers, sons and daughters of the soil and lovers of beauty and nature alike.

Temples & Shrines – On streets, quiet lanes and in community courtyards, you will find so many beautiful historic temples, peaceful shrines and pagodas all offering a glimpse into Japan’s rich spiritual traditions. These buildings are so stunningly beautiful, they will make you weep and etiquette at these sights should be respected at all times. Photography is acceptable outdoors but generally banned inside main halls. Keep your voice low while in the grounds and dress modestly. Do not touch any religious objects and carry coins to use as a small offering. 5Yen are the lucky coins for shrines. Moments of complete Zen guaranteed.

Higashiyama District and Arashiyama Bamboo Forest – To visit both these areas, take the old rattler rail box. It is a stunning journey past flooded rice paddy fields, over small mountains ranges, through lush forests of ginko and alongside rapidly flowing streams. It is a wonderous and joyful trip.

Once you depart the train, you are in heaven as the ethereal beauty of old Kyoto, nestled along the lower slopes of Kyoto’s eastern mountains, offers a traditional experience of one of the best preserved historic districts of Japan. The narrow lanes, the gentle machiya – traditional wood townhouses, shops with their dainty rice paper windows, milk tea, blossoms, cobblestones, immense beauty at every turn, and tiny golden threads like gentle ghosts evoke a deeply poetic feeling of a bygone era.

The towering, graceful and slender bamboo stalks, the soft clacking as they bump together in the wind, walking trails, ponds and ancient shrines offer a serene and tranquil escape from the summer heat of Japan. These lush green forests will enchant travellers alike.

A perfect way to discover Japan is by rail – Travel by rail throughout Japan is wonderful. It is the perfect space to immerse yourself and an even more perfect way to people watch. JR, the Japanese Railways Group, would be without doubt, the best in the world as the trains are extremely clean, flawlessly punctual, efficient and extremely safe. Vending machines for tickets are readily available at stations and you can also book on-line as some trains will require a seat booking. It may seem a little complicated at first only because it is so unfamiliar but by the second trip, you will have it mastered.

The Shinkansen, the sleek and very sophisticated bullet train reaching speeds of up to 320k per hour, is great for travelling long distances. Booking you seat is highly recommended at least a couple of days prior to your planned travel. The Shinkansen offers you the ability to take your luggage with you to your next destination however as with airlines, there are bag limits so check the website for full specifications.

Overhead storage compartments for smaller hand luggage, your very spacious and comfortable seat, power outlets, small pull-out tables and extraordinarily clean restrooms in most carriages makes your journey that little bit more enjoyable. You may eat and drink (yes, alcohol) on the bullet train and it is a popular tradition to purchase an ekiben which is simply a station bento box. Paired with a cold beer, you have the perfect travel companions.

Rarely avalable now is the on-board cart service which is slowly being phased out but on one journey the most delightful cart came by so of course ‘when in Rome’. So sit back, relax and enjoy the pure luxury of the legendary Shinkansen.

Remember the song Silence is Golden! Well this applies to all trains, especially the bullet train. Your phone needs to be on silent and talking or making calls is frowned upon. Keep noise to minimum and always queue as the Japanese do. Waiting is an art form and behaviour matters deeply to the Japanese. Let everyone out of the carriage before you try to board and NOT giving up your seat to an elderly person is practically forbidden as well it should be…..and take all of your rubbish with you. Holy cats, these rules are so simple but so very often bastardised by visiting nations including Australia! There are also ‘women only carriages’ available on most rail networks.

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There is a slow rhythm to my meandering walks when I travel. I find a sense of myself I don’t want to lose and a peace which I cling to as though it will shatter. Oftentimes, the path can be evident, other times, not so much. Perhaps we don’t always need to know where we are going, we will get there when we are meant to.

I knew it would be hard to say goodbye to the wonderous streets of Osaka but there were adventures ahead and new streets to walk. I was so grateful for my time there as not everyone in the world gets to have experiences like this so I hold that in my heart. I have boundaries to my memories and to what I share and often, I will keep a moment or two just for me as I discover corners of myself I don’t know exist although at times, they are hardly corners, they are more akin to being sprawling wild gardens.

The sun is setting as I write this, and the next chapter is starting. I hope if you were out walking today, you found something wonderous. I hope you ate or drank something that nourished you and that your walk bought you peace and lifted your soul…..x

Japan…..

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It has been a frigid start to winter in South Australia. Summer was an absolute beast with scorching heat and little to no rain. Autumn came and passed with a mere shiver, a season of some discontent, however I emerged wings intact and with a readiness to leave the cold behind and head for a balmy Japanese summer.

As the plane was about to land, a thunderstorm filled with lashing rains rolled in making the city of Kansai gleam. Behind me was Australia, and ahead, the land of the rising sun. 17 hours door to door may seem long yet it is always astonishingly lovely to wake in another part of the world.

Each day, I made an effort to be up early and just appreciate the morning. Something I did not regret. An early morning street skulk of Japan does not call for words. It is made for soft light, silence, cool air, the rhythmic cawing of the resident crows and deep breaths.

Japan is a country that seems to ground me and warm my soul at the same time while nourishing me with hand-cut soba noodles in gently simmered broths. The foot falcon, my preferred mode of transport, certainly got a good workout as I was encapsulated by the magic of Japan all over again. The elegance and grace of the country, the absolute kindness of its people, its amazing food, the calm, their divine sake, back lanes, flooded rice fields of vivid green, wonderful teas, and so much more. It is truly such a beautiful country with every vista looking lovelier than the last…..if that were at all possible.

I purposefully missed Japan’s intrepid season of the cherry blossom, Sakura as it is known. A time when all of Japan and its visitors are gripped by a wild and often times crazy blossom fever. It is a spectacularly beautiful time but far too busy and crowded for me. By the time I arrived, the blossom had dried to a papery texture and were bleached of their stunning pink hue.

A spotlessly clean country, disciplined and friendly, Japan is rich with a fabled culture forged over thousands of years. As usual, I took one hundred thousand photos of just about everything. I promised myself I would take only one or two photos of a particular subject given my old dinosaur of a mobile is a Samsung 4 and I knew it would heave under the weight of so many photos. I broke my promise and nearly my phone which laboured badly toward the end of the trip.

There have been earthquakes and typhoons in Japan since arriving back in Australia. Sadly, it is one of the most earthquake prone places of the world. Somehow though, so many of its Shinto, Buddhist and other ancient temples remain standing during the violent jolting of the earth just as they remained stoic even after the blanket bombing of World War II. And does Japan have a deeply troubled past and confronting horrors of war. Of course, and some of it is so unbearable it is difficult to think about!

There has been a particular sweetness in arriving back in Australia this time however there was also a struggle knowing I had to surrender to the end of my time in Japan. I slowly unpacked my port, my memories and the trinkets I had gathered feeling all that I had experienced was quickly becoming distant. I was so deeply grateful for every moment but perhaps I wasn’t ready to leave Japan behind just yet.

As usual after a trip away, I go through small bouts of heart-panging withdrawals especially for those one-of-a-kind, unexpected experiences no one else has.  I can also be a stubborn hobgoblin in getting back into my routine however this afternoon, I spent considerable time in my over grown, weedy garden. The afternoon light was particularly lovely and golden and the cold air so very sharp.

It has been so rainy in South Australia while I have been away and the weeds have flourished with abandon. I pulled an absolute tonne of stinging nettles from one garden bed. Where they have come from is anyone’s guess! In folklore, stinging nettles ward off darkness and fear and will strengthen the will and trust me, it has taken much will to pull these prickly little buggars from the ground. So robust are they, they easily stung through my tough gardening gloves.

The lavender has been voracious too, almost swallowing up the old art deco steps leading to the front door.  I love the wildness of how it looks along with the gold leaves shed from my neighbours large oak tree which are strewn throughout the yard. But somehow today, it was those usual suspects, those tough rooted weeds of mallow, wood sorrel, and tough fusty grass mats which are in their element. To make up for it, bulbs I have been collecting and planting over the past three years have broken the soil and will soon flower and although their season is short, they will be oh so lovely.  

I always mourn the day I leave somewhere and although I am missing Japan and my morning Japanese rituals, the honeymoon is far from over. I have a love for Japan which has never wavered since the very first time I visited. I am filled with much gratitude for being there and for being able to travel. My love affair with their toilets also continued 🙂

Part II of Japan coming soon…….x

Time to spill the tea…..

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Tis certainly ‘baby, its cold outside’ weather in South Australia at present.  It is the weather of comfort, and the need for comfort is to hunker down in the front room with a warm fire in the company of the dear cats.  The house is almost silent save the purist stance to the jazz, blues and soul channel softly playing in the background, the tapping of laptop keys and the gentle snoring of old TomTom who is curled up beside me.   It is a brief and enjoyable lull in what has again been, a very full week. 

The past summer was an over exposed heatwave which lasted until May.  There was no rain for a good 5 months then a luscious series of downpours hit just as we were about to board a flight to Norfolk Island…….which is a perfect segue for this post.

I am seriously going to catch my blog up!  Somehow, I’ve convinced myself I am not behind, but who am I kidding, of course I am.  Sometimes I tend to just fall off the edge of the world.  I miss writing my blog and I love the routine of it because believe it or not, I find a very odd amount of freedom and joy in routine. 

And how quickly life moves along.  Already half of this year has passed.  There is so very much to catch up on including a great deal of travel, renovations, lists, festivals, worries that keep me awake at all hours, life ruining gin 😊, clearing out years of accumulated items which have amassed like nesting spiders, transforming the yard and turning 60 last year (although I feel far too youthful and immortal to concern myself with ageism). 

I’ll restart the blog with our most recent trip which was to the windswept, astoundingly beautiful and impossibly green Norfolk Island then work my way to back.  Of course, I take too many photos when travelling with my usual, ‘one hundred thousand photos of absolutely everything’ but one has to start somewhere.

We have now had the shortest day of the year.  Soon the light will slowly begin to creep back in so summer lovers do not fear.  That ballsy season of heat, longer days and flies will soon come around again to bear its apocalyptic teeth but for now, there is just simple splendor in the cold and wet of a South Australian winter.  

So, pull up a chair while I spill the tea.  All are welcome at my table……x

Good morning 2023. How lovely to see you….. :)

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It is the fifth week of summer and the start of a brand new year. After months of unseasonal rain and cool temperatures, the heat we know and love has finally hit South Australia with the mercury reaching the low 40’s. Up early, I watered my fruit trees which have survived two SA summers under siege of blistering heat and hot dry winds. This year, the trees flowered and tiny fruit has appeared in the shape of pears, sugar plums, blueberries, figs and pomegranates along with a trellis filled with thick skinned passionfruit.

This was a lovely morning of solitude, stillness and space. As the church bells pealed in the buttressed tower of our towns 165 year old church, a magnificent wedge-tail eagle began circling above my yard and that of my neighbour. On majestic wings, she glided between our homes and the wildlife corridor which runs parallel to us before finally being seen off by our resident, very brave little kestrel. What an amazingly privileged way to begin the day and a gentle reminder life is never dull……nor predictable!

After witnessing our kestrel and wedgetail, I thought of the year passed and the one ahead. No ‘new year’s resolutions’ again this year but an intent to continue to be kind, to have those around who deserve a seat at my table and to give 2023 all I got with as much optimism, love and hope as I can muster.

The start of 2023 looks like skies of pale washed denim, smells like hot dry wheat, tastes like fresh Queensland mangoes and feels like good omens and late afternoon ocean swims. Happy New Year…….x

CROCS!!…..and I don’t mean those unattractive items of footwear!

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I began this post a couple of days ago.  It was a time when the state of South Australia had been plunged into a catastrophic fire danger rating with no part of the state rated lower than severe.   By 10am on Wednesday, the temperatures in the area where I live had already hit 41 degrees (106 Fahrenheit) with the hot north wind reaching speeds of over 50 km/h.  It was long day with record temperatures broken across South Australia and by evening, the sky appeared to have been bleached of all colour.  There was no sunset that night.  Just an eerie sky which almost looked like a faded black and white print.

I was up early on that day.  Threw a little water around, looked hopefully at the 100 year old pines, gums and peppermints which surround and dug up some of the garlic I planted during winter.   Its my first crop of garlic, an Australian variety known for their small, sweet pungent cloves.  I’ve tied them with jute and they are hanging to dry.  The rest of the garlic will be harvested over the coming weeks.

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After that, there was little more to do other than close up the house, draw the blinds, hunker down with the cats and wait it out.

The following days, and the temperatures have dropped by around 20 degrees.  Drops like that are so welcome during summer in Australia.  There was no big cornflower blue sky on Thursday though.  Just a canvas of smoky pale grey and the unmistakable smell of scorched earth.

My heart and thoughts are with those who battled Wednesdays fires and to those in Queensland and New South Wales who have endured such heartache and loss over the past few weeks.  We are indeed a country of extremes and it is during these times you realise what is most important to you.

Crocs of the top end……

The sun was still rising as we left Darwin and headed out along the Arnhem Highway to Wak Wak, a tiny dot of a place located near the Adelaide River.

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Home to one of the largest concentrations of saltwater crocs and a haven for birdlife, the Adelaide River really is a beautiful part of the world.

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You know life is truly grand when you get to watch these great birds soar above and swoop down along the surface of the Adelaide River……..

Mornings in the territory bring such serenity especially when out on water in a flat-based tinny with a knowledgeable, passionate and funny as hell top end character who doubles as a croc guide.  His love and incredible respect for these huge apex predators so apparent.

The hum of the outboard, the prolific birdlife, the sun warming your back while skimming across the top of the chocolate milkshake coloured water as it unfurls like a silky ribbon is pure bliss.

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You think it can’t get any better than this.

But it does.

Because within moments of being out on the river.

You encounter your first croc.

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And they keep coming…….

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Some of the crocs we saw were absolutely massive!  Majestic powerhouses of strength and might.  Up close, they reminded me of weary, battle-scared warships yet I found these reptiles to be incredibly beautiful.

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During the morning, we happened upon a very plucky little juvenile croc.  The guide called him ‘Little Man’ but I like to think of him as ‘Lion Heart’ solely for his incredible courage, resilience and determination.   According to our guide, Lion Hearts’ chances of surviving to reach the maturity of the big crocs we had already seen were slim at best.  I often think of Lion Heart and hope he is still out swimming, out witting and out charming his bigger rivals.

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Lion Heart, cute as a darn button…….

Being on the water with those great birds swooping down and those enormous, profoundly fascinating apex predators stalking the boat was so good for my heart and my soul.

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And stalk the boat he did………

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The top end is absolute beauty and wonder.   I returned home to South Australia with a grateful and very happy heart so thank you for the stunning sunrises, the best laksa ever, the crocs, the humble no-bullshit people, the gin-clear swimming holes, the crocs, the sunshine, the markets, the amazing street art and the crocs.

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Go see the top.  If you never, never go you will never, never know…….x

Moving on…….

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I can’t believe it has been almost 6 months since I moved to South Australia, the sea and salt of Newcastle left well behind.  For someone who has consistently moved, I still find the actual act of moving onerous.  Putting my life into boxes once again, the mix of emotion, the sorting, the photos – photos of those no longer with us, babies who are no longer babies and those no longer in my life for various reasons.  Boxes which tie to a collective past, a reminder of everything beautiful and egregious in my lived life.

After living in so many different places and countries, you would think I’d be used to moving.  Luckily for me, I have always unpacked with a roof over my head and with an openness for new adventure.

There has been much happiness to be found in my return to SA.  I guess some things just align with your soul.  It has been an incredibly busy time and there has been some travel yet I bow my head with a mingling mix of shame and guilt as I have lost touch.  Too many excuses but none of which I will use.  I have been busy, too busy – one of my many failings.  I try but fail.  I will be in touch soon with those dear to my heart whom I miss.  You know who you are.  I promise.

There has been a change of season during this time too.  Winter has arrived to SA.  The wattle is out in all its golden gloriousness.  I snip sprigs during my wanderings (one of the small yet special things about living here) and have the blooms throughout the house.  It is cold and crisp today with a chilled liveliness.  I can hear the occasional bird and the very, very distant hum of a train on the tracks given the air is so clear.

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I am missing the warmth of summer with its harsh light and that of my washing drying on the hills hoist in under five minutes and smelling so acutely of sunshine.  Now though, there is time for moments spent in my favourite room, fire side with the little cat for quiet company which is loveliness itself especially when it is rainy and cold.

I am also finding happiness in the restoration of the garden – the house will have to wait, it is ‘livable’ now!!   The garden is a huge undertaking so I work, rest a little, get more inspired then enjoy the solitude of getting back out there.  Its not a race.  There is no right or wrong, just an enjoyment of each moment spent there.

Some areas are no longer overgrown with dead plants, trees, weeds or rubbish.  I am hand pulling everything and composting what I can. Three huge skips have already been filled with ‘rubbish’ from the yard.  Plastics, drug paraphernalia, that which cannot be composted and more rubbish.  There were good renters and not so good renters in the end.  I can’t fret about it, these things happen.

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Gardening has become a passion again.  I love how the soil becomes ingrained under my finger nails and fills the small cuts, scratches and lines of my hands.  A welcomed tattoo from mother nature.

I am a very organic gardener, no herbicides or pesticides.  A healthy environment devoid of all chemicals so there will be ‘cycles’ of weeds to combat for months to come before eventually dying out.

In the heart of all this gardening there has been much compost making.  ‘Brown gold’, much coveted and which during the heat of summer was breaking down from scrapes, organic matter and garden waste into beautiful friable soil in only a matter of months.

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Cuttings, seedlings, succulents and colour have taken up residence in my collection of old, worn terracotta pots and rusting wash tubs and with the winter sun, are doing well.  The bees, bugs, lizards and birds are returning.  Everything outside has been finally swept clean of dust and dirt and it all feels so much better.

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The patch is beginning to take shape again too. I look forward to it being once again filled with berries, fragrant herbs, leafy greens and the root veg of winter.  It is an enclosed area, the wire allowing the small birds and insects through but it keeps the ‘bandits’ at bay.  The possums, as endearing as they are, do love the tender seedlings and blackbirds, the newly mulched soil.

Re-establishing the fruit orchard will be the next venture after completing the patch.  Something else on the ever growing list of ‘to-do’.  The once thriving stone fruit trees and citrus are gone but then so have the roses and natives which also once filled the yard.

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The fruit orchard.  Next on the hit list

The vegie patch, February 2019

Slowly getting there, March 2019

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May 2019

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My favorite gardening companion…….x

The garlic is spouting and the leaves have dropped, there is frost on the ground and occasionally rain in the gauge.  These are lovely liminal times.

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There are more weeds to pull, seeds to plant, garden beds to turn, trees to replace and wattle bloom to collect.  Small but ever joyful moments in South Australia……….x

Bound for South Australia…….

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The South Australian border seemed a stone’s throw from Broken Hill.  As we travelled, there was still that overwhelming magnitude of land and sky and as the sunlight flooded down, we crossed the state border and the outback slowly made itself distant……

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We passed through small towns, passed rail lines and flocks of glossy black crows, saw pale sun bleached signage and watched the hot sun slowly move across the sky.  We saw hundreds of sheep in the driest of paddocks with nary a twig for shade and only hours later, saw hillsides of lush green vines.  I saw so many small things on this road trip which widen my heart that at some point I may well have wished I could drive on forever.

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The first night back in SA was odd.  The evening so hot and the sky so clear yet it somehow felt a little strange to be back.  I finally fell in to bed, warm and full of lost sleep and woke to this early morning view of ‘my backyard’.  The stunning Barossa and all it has to offer is right on my door step.

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So yes, we are in SA and back living in a lovely town full of community heart, walking tracks, heritage and history, and old sandstone buildings.  Established just over 180 years ago, the town smelt so acutely of summer heat and dust when we arrived.

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I had forgotten how small our home is.  A little place of crumbling plaster that is neither grand nor obtrusive but certainly a home of charm and squeaky floor boards.  The house and yard have suffered terribly under five years of rental neglect but as I drove up the dirt road which leads to the back of our property there was a feeling of coming home.

But nothing makes it home more than having our sweet little cat with us again.  Zoe stayed with her wonderful vet in Newcastle before boarding a flight to SA just as we arrived.  We are so grateful she is happy and settled and we could not ask for more.

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Jetlag recovery mode……..x

Home isn’t where I am from but it is where I live at that moment.  Each place I have lived has always served some sort of purpose yet I cannot help but wonder if when we leave a place, we leave a little of ourselves behind and if fortunate enough to return, we find a little something in the going back.

Often times, there is much negativity spread about South Australia but that could not be further from the truth.   It is one of the driest states and it has a reputation for serial killers but The Adelaide Markets, the wine regions, the craft beers and gin, the rad festivals, the food scene, the coast line, beautiful Adelaide, the state where a man was shot by his own camel! (I know right), Kangaroo Island, Wilpena Pound, Haigh’s Chocolate and 1,000 and one other things far outweigh the pessimism peddled by some.

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This is an amazing state so don’t let anyone tell you otherwise and if you can’t find something nice to say or love about South Australia then there really is no hope for you…….x

You can’t do that with a ping pong ball??!!…….

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I need not pretend of our exhaustion after travelling in the heat.  Days where it was almost too hot to think let alone drive yet I loved the outback.

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Though the heat was demanding and equally suffocating and the flies drove me mad, the outback is a place unrivalled in its dramatic energy and remote magnificence.  Dusk would see the big sky fill with colour. Pink’s and gold’s, shades not imaginable, would fade away to a huge rising moon followed by a night sky filled with a million tiny stars. Morning would come again with a sun which seemed to explode with heat and light.

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Droughts in Australia are merciless.  Even the feral animals, those introduced who normally thrived in harsh conditions, were dying off in these dust bowls.  I lost count of the number of sun bleached bones and skeletal remains I saw…….

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Broken Hill was a welcome oasis.  A remote desert frontier somehow rougher and smudgier than most large tourist-friendly towns, caked with dust and baking away in the heat.  And then there’s that soil. That rich burnt ochre which surrounds the town.  A colour so vivid you could not dream up a better backdrop if you tried.

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We stayed at the aptly named Oasis Motor Inn.  A passé little place – neat, quiet, well located and scrupulously clean. I highly recommend it. Once settled, we grabbed a couple of beers and headed for the pool which was absolute bliss!

Good pool soak done and dust washed from our throats, we headed on a short walk to the town centre in search of number one on my list of ‘top five fabo things to see in Broken Hill’ – The Palace Hotel.

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There are a number of remarkable and beautiful buildings in Broken Hill yet this is the most famous with its cast iron balustrades and gloriously kitschy and stunning interior of colourful murals.  It also featured in the wonderfully iconic Australian movie, The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

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Famished, we headed to the dining room for a meal largely held in silence.  We had argued during our walk.  Some vague, tepid argument which had been quietly simmering away of something I had held to weeks before leaving Newcastle.

The character of the hotel and the murals are fabulous yet the food was disappointing.  Nothing was ‘house-made’ and all in all, the dining experience was somewhat lack-lustre.  Thing is, I could have eaten there every night if only to sit amongst the painted murals, old furniture and the clatter of other peoples conversations.

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We healed our spat over processed desserts then headed to the Sidebar.  Sunday nights are good in Broken Hill as most tourists have disappeared for the night or simply moved on.  There were only two other people in the bar so the cocktails, a Japanese Slipper so green and quaint it made me smile, and the Martinis were all well made.

Navigating the quiet streets, we wandered back to the motel.  There was little left of the days fatigue and my spirits were lighter and somewhat lifted due to that remarkable hotels interior.  The next day we headed out to Silverton.

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Set amongst hot, wind-rippled sand and dust, Silverton, with its one pub and population of less than 40 people – it once boasted a population of 3,000 people – is a quirky little dot on the map.   This is also another location of more iconic Australian movies.

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The Silverton Hotel is one of Australia’s most filmed and photographed pubs.  A great place to find a cold beer, good food and to browse the film history of the area.

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On the outskirts of Silverton is an historic cemetery, a raw and harsh reminder of how life was lived in the early days of settlement.  Under a brutish sun we padded about in respectful silence.  Hot glittering sand filled my sandals and my feet were pricked by bone dry spines and thorns yet it mattered little just to be in this most remarkable of places.

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Three nights in Broken Hill was enough for me to explore, wander and to understand why we cling, with such sentimentality, to some things and not others.  I guess in the long run, most things will be okay and for me, it was all going to be okay.

There was no pressure to move on but South Australia awaited………x

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Footnote:  Quote in title from The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert

Felicia –          “Oh, you can’t do that with a ping pong ball?!”

Bernadette –   “Do you wanna bet”

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‘Ping pong ball reaction’ – image courtesy RockyMusic.org

Coober Pedy: 845k north of Adelaide and 2,088k west of Sydney as the crow flies…….

On By oceangirl63In Uncategorized6 Comments

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Sometimes I worry I have the maturity of an eight year old and other times, I am actually convinced of it.  Perhaps this imperfection is because of the way I often see the world.  I find an almost innocence of curiosity and enchantment where others find only the tiresome.  I still make a wish on a shooting star, I always want to see the best in people and continue to show them kindness even when they have shown themselves not to be deserving of it and most of all, by my spirited enthusiasm at the prospect of a road trip.

Now there is no sugar coating this road trip because heading to Coober Pedy is a bloody long slog so it requires many stops along the way to not only to fuel up and stretch the legs, but stopping also gives you the opportunity to really appreciate this iconic stretch of highway and its many eccentricities.

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It will take much longer if you go by bike though…….

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Truth!!…….

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I do love a road trip and this trip to Coober Pedy was no exception as it encompassed some of the things I love most about Australia………the outback and the characters you find there.

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These are the places where a local will tell you danger is highly overrated yet go on to tell you up until the 1980’s you could still buy dynamite over the counter at the local supermarket and that you can very easily disappear without a trace………as many have!

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The locals are hard working, hard living and hard drinking.  Boot Hill Cemetery is a testament to that fact and is so named because the folk of Coober Pedy work so hard and for so long that they literally die and are buried in their boots.  Charmingly macabre don’t you think.

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The locals really are a friendly lot if not a little wary, but they become sincere and entertaining when you get to know them.  People out here can also spend their entire lifetime with just a nickname.  No Christian name.  No surname.   Just a simple and often endearing sobriquet which everyone knows you by and of which I think is rather wonderful.

It is said some people are running to something but most are running from something and its a good place to head if you don’t want to be found.   The sort of place you can live the sort of life you want to live without judgment or persecution.  Isolation it seems, is good for some souls……..

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Coober Pedy is blistering heat, one main street, cold beer and the gin passable.  The skies are enormous and the earth is scorched, painted and peeling.  It is a beautifully multicultural community, rainfall is low, you can get a latte (the least likely advice I was going to take)…..did I mention the beer is cold 🙂 and there are no trees.  Summer days hit 50 degrees plus, the slow black flies are in plagued proportions, there is pizza and magnificent opal.   It is a place that doesn’t throw its weight around but holds its own with a commanding yet unassuming ease.

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Ventilation…….

Located in one of Australia’s hottest desert climates, ‘the opal capital of the world’, as Coober Pedy is often referred is a labyrinth of underground mining tunnels and dugout housing.

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Looking up from deep underground…….

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An opal seam…….

Attempting to avoid the stifling heat, much of the town has been built underground and you can visit homes, churches, the lovely time-warp that is Faye’s House and stay in the underground motel.

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And you know we did……. 😉

The dog proof fence, built during the 1880’s is about 10k out of Coober Pedy.  It runs 5,614k (3,489 miles) and is one of the longest structures in the world, even longer than the Great Wall of China.  It’s well worth the hike out of town just to see the fence disappear out over the horizon.

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This is about as tough as it gets and I knew being out here I could take no photo to truly capture that nor the immensity of it all and words, well they wouldn’t cut it either.  What I can say though, is that this really is one of my most favorite places on earth.

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Will I return?  Absolutely!  That goes without question.  I found a deep sentiment for this area and although almost apocalyptic it is one hell of a place so easy to love.   My plan has always been to live out in Coober Pedy for a while and fossick about in the burnished golden desert under that massive outback sky and I already have a name for my slag heap.  That life’s adventure has been a dream since I was a girl and I sincerely thank The Leyland Brothers for that 🙂

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I could not help but wonder that perhaps it was not the getting to Coober Pedy, but the idea of it that struck me so.   That starkly beautiful arid landscape, barren as the moon and riddled with thousands upon thousands of holes surrounded by mounds of white powdery dirt.

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Did my photos and text of Coober Pedy do it justice!  Of course not!  This place is like a wild brumby.  Too stunningly glorious to be captured and tamed but a girl with a heart for wild horses can always dream can’t she………x