Bluebottle beach

Our sunny day arrived as promised. Great drying weather, so Kirsten did a final load of washing and hung it on the line to dry. The girls were delighted to catch an episode of An Vrombaut’s charming ‘64 Zoo Lane’ on Australian TV, despite being ‘too grown up’ most of the time to watch it on their Zen players; must be the warm memories with seeing it at home. We then popped into Huskisson Bakery for some bread rolls (our sliced loaf had gone mouldy in the warm, humid air) and some treats for tea.

A nice healthy lunch at home (salad and tuna on fresh rolls) and then we mad-dogged it down to the beach in the noon-day sun. Now, which beach? We drove past a pleasant spot on the way to Vincentia, then tried to find Greenfields Beach (which features in tourist brochures), but it must be one of these places with no road access – we couldn’t see how to get there. So we returned to Hyams Beach only to find it packed with cars and no room to park in the shade. Much too busy.

Our Booderee Park ticket was still valid for today so we went back to Iluka (where we had our damp picnic lunch yesterday). The car park was empty but for us, and we had a vast stretch of beach to ourselves; just a few campers a long way down to our right. Yes, this would do nicely. Not too much in the way of shade, but there was a gentle breeze and we had our hats, sun cream and UV tops for the girls. The waves were not too rough, the shore shelved gently and the sand was beautifully soft (and slightly squeaky) under foot. A perfect spot.

We spread out our towels, left our bags and ran into the water. An ideal temperature, pleasantly warm whether in or out of the waves. I floated on my back, bobbing with the swell; the girls splashed around in the shallows squealing as the gentle breakers caught them.

We emerged for some cubes of refreshingly cold watermelon before having a quick sunbathe. Then back into the sea again to cool off. Ellen pointed out the occasional blob of jelly washed up on the shore, the size of a large coin with dark blue strands squiggled over the sand. We weren’t quite sure what damage they’d do to us so we kept our distance. However, there were no warning notices around these beaches and we understood that all the really dangerous jellyfish were to be found further up the coast in the tropical waters off Queensland.

So when Ellen suddenly started screaming in pain we felt sick with worry and concern for her, but at least we had some idea what might be the matter. A couple of blue strands were stuck to the side of her foot, so we removed these with a towel and washed the area with one of our bottles of drinking water. Ellen is a tough cookie – a fall with scraped knees does not bring many tears from her – but this time she carried on crying and was obviously in excruciating pain. We felt so helpless as parents; you wish you could take the injury upon yourself instead and spare your child. So we packed everything up, Kirsten carried Ellen to the car and we drove to the nearest chemist’s in Vincentia.

We had great faith that they’d know exactly what to do; this must be a common problem around here. But the girl who came to help us confessed that she’d only just moved to the coast, so was it warm water or cold water you’re supposed to treat the injury with? Her colleagues came to the conclusion that it was probably warm water and that the offending creature was a Bluebottle. Meanwhile, Ellen could have a dose of antihistamine syrup (we later read the label and it’s intended for hayfever and allergies) and we could give her ordinary painkillers. We returned to the car, gave her ibuprofen and applied some antihistamine cream from our first aid kit.

We stopped in Huskisson for a second opinion from the pharmacist there. He said that warm/hot water denatures the proteins causing the sting, but that it only really helps if applied immediately (tricky if you don’t have a Thermos flask with you on the beach). Fortunately Ellen’s pain was starting to subside and we all went for a therapeutic (and messy) ice cream.

Back in Woollamia Ellen rested on the sofa for the remainder of the day and started to feel a lot better; she stayed up with Hannah to watch the latest instalment of the addictive ‘My Kitchen Rules’, a sort of souped-up ‘Come Dine With Me’ in which five Australian couples take it in turns to prepare a three-course meal for each other, with the added pressure of two renowned chefs who contribute the major share of the points when voting.

Ellen will have some blisters but should recover in two or three days; at least tomorrow is a travelling day so she can take it easy. When she came to write her diary she was clear that she didn’t want to mention anything about today’s incident – she simply wants to forget about it.

The power of the Internet reveals that our Bluebottle jellyfish is another name for the Portuguese Man o’ War (I’ve certainly heard of that) and that strictly speaking, it’s not a jellyfish at all but four coexisting colonies of creatures that all depend on each other for survival. But mainly that the sting is extremely painful. Poor Ellen.

Booderee kangaroos

Our second day in Jervis Bay and we were determined to see something of this area after our Blue Mountains washout. The forecast indicated an overcast day with a 10% chance of precipitation so we packed snacks and raincoats and drove towards Booderee National Park at the tip of the southern curl of Jervis Bay.

Of course the drizzle set in almost straightaway and we debated whether to turn back; a day getting soaked isn’t much fun, nor is sitting in a car in a beautiful park wishing we could be out exploring.

We decided to check out a few sights anyway so we would have some idea where to return to if it turned out fine tomorrow. First stop was Hyam’s Beach, reputedly with the whitest sand in the world. But when we reached the settlement there was precious little indication which way we should go; we randomly turned left and found no ‘this way to the beach’ sign. So we turned round – and spotted our first wild kangaroo, grazing in a picnic area! We pulled over to snap it as it had its breakfast and it stared back at us in quiet resignation – “here we go again; haven’t you seen a kangaroo before?”

Down the other end of the village we found a parking area. The rain eased off for just long enough to let us dash down to the sea and back to the car again. Yes, the sand was quite dazzling considering what a leaden sky there was, but does it really out-white every other beach on the planet? I’m not convinced.

Then on to the Aboriginal-owned National Park where we paid our $10 for a two-day pass. We collected leaflets from the Visitor Centre where the staff were fielding a constant stream of campsite bookings on the phone – it’s a popular spot, it seems.

The Botanical Gardens were not far away so we squeezed them in before lunch. Fortunately, the rain held off for much of the rest of our time in the park, leaving us with a comfortably warm day with no direct sunshine. Sadly, the interesting programme of activities only ran during school holidays so we missed out on tours of the Koori Garden (with its medicinal plants used by the local Koori people). Instead we wandered the paths with the whole place nearly to ourselves (just two other visitors there). My favourite-named tree must be the Scribbly Gum; when we saw it, all became clear.

By now it was lunch time so we drove on to Jervis Bay Village Store for a couple of sandwiches. We ate these at a damp picnic table near Iluka, one of the many sandy beaches along the northern shore. Heavy breakers crashing into the shore despite the supposedly sheltered location within Jervis Bay.

We headed east along the ‘backbone’ road of the park (past another grazing kangaroo) and stopped at the intriguingly-named ‘hole in the wall’ – is that where you can get money out of a sand-bank? We walked down a 400-metre access path and found the calmest beach of the day. The sand was littered with all manner of pretty shells, and the girls assembled their collections of favourites.

A view to our right of a low strip of rock jutting out with a crumbled section in the middle – the hole. We walked along to the gap past rock pools (a few darting little fish) and flocks of red and green parrots startled from the trees. It was still overcast, but we were happy to be outside, just pottering around the countryside, stopping where we liked and when we liked. Not in search of any great tourist ‘must-do’, but open to small unexpected moments. This is what we have been waiting for from Australia; let’s hope there’s much more to come.

When the rain looked like it was returning in earnest we decided to call it a day and drove back home for tea. One scary moment when a large black spider (it could span a tea cup) appeared on the living room window; fortunately it was on the outside.

We’re still hoping for sunshine tomorrow to let us take a dip at one of our beaches. We’ve had a week of rain now; that’s quite enough.

Knock on the head

After a fairly good night’s sleep we were woken by … yes, you’ve guessed it right … yet another shower. Apparently, all this rain is quite unusual for this time of year, but at least the catchment areas are filling up nicely. It’s just that we’ve had enough of it now!

We spent the first half of the morning catching up on washing and the girls had a great time playing table tennis and listening to a children’s CD and dancing away to the music. Wherever we stay, they will *always* find something to do.

Suddenly the rain started to ease off and by now Peter, the owner, had turned up to cut the grass. He had warned us about it, but with all this wet weather we didn’t think he would turn up. Time to introduce ourselves and confess that I had driven over a plastic cover and cracked it. He was pretty cool about it and just casually mentioned that he would have it fixed. Phew!

Off we went to Huskisson, the nearest bigger town in the hope of finding a better internet/mobile phone connection. We drove to the Lookout Point and daydreamed about how nice and lovely it would look in dry and sunny weather. According to the forecast it should be wet on Monday and Tuesday and sunny on Wednesday. But that’s when we moving on! We considered maybe staying an extra day to enjoy this area in beautiful weather, but it would mean packing up and moving into different accommodation just for one night.

After sending a text message home to wish my mum a happy birthday, we drove back to Nowra’s Stockland shopping centre in search of leggings or thin tracksuit bottoms for the girls. The trousers we bought in Bolivia are beginning to get a little short, but they would also be too thick and hot for Ayers Rock, Darwin and South East Asia in a few weeks’ time.

Once there we had no problems finding a good selection in KMart. Hannah settled for a light grey pair of leggings (which can also be worn underneath a dress/skirt) and Ellen chose light grey and light weight tracksuit bottoms.

By now it was time for lunch (and the drizzle had set in again) and the girls couldn’t believe their luck when we spotted a Subway. We had already seen several of these in Australia but usually at times when we had our own picnic lunches. The girls were happy to share one drink and one big roll with ham, tomatoes, cucumber and mayonnaise and chose a cookie each. We didn’t hear them for the next half hour …

Tim took the girls back to the car afterwards while I quickly dashed into Woolworths to get a few boring items like kitchen towel and hand soap. In the meantime Tim had managed to get an internet connection and booked our next accommodation at Narooma’s Ecotel.

On the way home we needed to get petrol and I have been dreading this, what with our record of things going wrong recently. We tried to find out which petrol to get by looking in the car manual and were really worried when I read something about LPG! I got out and opened the “fuel flipper flap” (not *my* words – that’s what they call it in the manual) and was immensely relieved when it mentioned the words “unleaded fuel only”. We topped up, paid by credit card (!) and off we went back home with a full tank. Over 500km worth of petrol left in the tank, that should easily get us to the next place.

Back at home we all took turns playing table tennis and one of us even got hit on the forehead. No, I won’t say who, but it was an excellent shot! The drizzle had stopped so we ventured out into our back garden which goes down to Currambene river, where the girls had fun playing with sticks.

Too soon it was time to get back inside, hang up yet another load of washing, put the girls in the bath and potatoes in the oven, make tuna/mayonnaise, grate cheese, wash lettuce, chop cucumber and tomatoes, warm up beans – sit down and eat supper.

Hannah and Ellen then happily typed a message each to Oma to wish her a happy birthday and then we drove back to Huskisson to phone her and send the emails.

When we checked the weather again, it had improved and tomorrow should be dry and Tuesday should be sunny. That means we should finally be able to get out and really enjoy this beautiful area with lovely white beaches and nature parks.

What next?

Something of an Apollo 13 feel to our time in Australia so far; a string of technical problems and failures one after the other, requiring all our ingenuity to overcome them. Today we cleared out of our cabin in the Blue Mountains (we had 100mm of rain overnight, and we sure heard it), got the SatNav set up and made our way back down towards the coast. But the little gizmo that plugs into the cigar lighter to power Lady TomTom went on the blink almost immediately, requiring Kirsten’s magic touch to get it to work at all, with every bump of the road then breaking the connection again.

Soon it had degenerated to such an extent that Lady TomTom’s battery was flat so we turned off into Springfield to park. A rummage around in the boot to cobble together an alternative power source – another gadget that converts the car power socket’s 12 volts up to 240 volts AC, then a mains power adaptor to bring it down to 5 volts DC for Lady TT. Fortunately she was happy with this Heath Robinson solution so we continued our journey in her capable hands.

We cut across a corner to bypass Sydney, heading past Camden and Picton (we visited their namesakes in the USA and NZ respectively) to Wollongong where we picked up the Princes Highway (no, don’t know where the apostrophe should go; they never seem to use it) which runs around a fair portion of Australia’s coast. It turned dry for a while so we stopped to have our sandwiches (Hannah made them for us this morning) at a rest area.

Soon the rain resumed and the rest of the journey was in miserable drizzle. We attempted to stop in Berry (full of craft shops and nice places to eat), but even on a wet Saturday it was so popular with Sydneysiders and tourists that we could find absolutely nowhere to park. So we pressed on to Nowra and got directions to a big shopping centre with a KMart and a Woolworths. The former provided us with sets of bed linen (seems we’ll need our own sheets most of the time given our strict budget) as well as new footwear for the girls. We got a few days’ provisions at Woolworths (my debit card doesn’t work at this branch either) before driving on to our destination in Woollamia.

We got there just in time for tea. There’s plenty of space in this holiday home even if it’s a bit musty and tatty in places, and it’s tucked away in a quiet spot in Jervis Bay. Can’t say much about the surroundings as the weather has stayed too grotty to get out; the forecast is more of the same for Sunday and Monday but maybe our last day here will be fine…

This evening the ‘My Documents’ area of the laptop failed, becoming so corrupted that we are now barred from accessing anything stored there. At least we’re up to date with uploading our blog entries so we haven’t lost any text, but we are left wondering what is going to go wrong next. And at least the Apollo 13 mission returned home safely, so we’ll stick with that analogy…

Plunder Down Under

When there was an item on the news yesterday about a copyright dispute over alleged tune-pinching involving two Australian songs I assumed it would all be lost on me, being a Pom and all that. But the songs in question turn out to be ‘Down Under’ by Men at Work (I remember it being a hit in 1983) and ‘Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree’, which features on the girls’ CD of Songs from Around the World.

And sure enough, the second phrase of the well-known flute riff in ‘Down Under’ exactly mirrors the first few bars of ‘Kookaburra’. But for nigh on 30 years no-one bothered about this, even the lady who composed the children’s round for a group of Girl Guides back in the ’30s. However, Larrikin Music acquired the rights to ‘Kookaburra’ (and I can hear one chortling away as I type) a few years ago and presumably saw an opportunity to boost their finances – and probably couldn’t believe their luck when the judge ruled in their favour. They now stand to receive a ridiculous 60% of Men at Work’s royalties backdated to the eighties.

This is a travesty. From a purely mathematical point of view, it is impossible to write a diatonic (white-note) melody without unwittingly quoting some existing composition; there are so many tunes out there already that you can’t avoid ‘em all. The classic example is ‘Yes, we have no bananas’ which clearly plagiarises the Hallelujah Chorus in its first four notes. There’s also a healthy track record of intentional inclusion of musical snippets; are the French complaining about La Marseillaise featuring in ‘All you need is love’? (well, probably…)

If the main ‘hook’ is identical to another song, there’s more of a case, e.g. the ‘My Sweet Lord’/'He’s So Fine’ plagiarism suit. Even there, to rule that the former had only 25% original material over its predecessor does not explain the huge success of the Harrison song in comparison to the Ronald Mack composition. But an Australian band quoting a familiar folk tune (and not even as part of the main melody)? There should be no case to answer.

Blue Mountains

I slept much better last night, probably because it wasn’t raining constantly.  But just as I was about to point that out to Tim, we had yet another downpour.  Was today going to be a washout like yesterday, or would we have a chance to get out and stay dry-ish?

As we were finishing our breakfast of grilled hot cross buns the sky cleared up and we quickly put our shoes and raincoats on and hopped into the car.  We had only driven a couple of minutes when we saw another low cloud hanging over the road and thought that would be the end of our trip.  But fortunately it was just that, a low cloud.

About five minutes later we arrived at Govett’s Leap Lookout.  We didn’t hold much hope of any view, but walked over to the lookout anyway.  Almost immediately we were rewarded with some view.  Although the clouds were still hanging low, we got some idea of what Grose Valley looked like.  And as by magic, the clouds lifted and the sun tried really hard to get through (just for us) and the views were amazing.  To our right we could see the magnificent Bridal Veil Falls and decided to walk down towards a lower lookout point.

The path to Govett’s Leap was covered in trickles of water but we managed to get down and enjoy even better views of both the Bridal Veil Falls and the Horseshoe Falls.

Ellen, being into horses, was really keen to walk down to the Horseshoe Falls.  But we had only gone down that path for a couple of hundred metres when we were faced with big puddle after big puddle and had to make a U-turn back to the car.

As we neared the car it started to spit with rain again and made it into the car just in time before the heavy downpour.  We were pretty pleased with ourselves – the clouds had lifted in front of our eyes and we stayed dry.

Because of the rain we settled for plan B, which was another visit to Katoomba, this time in search of the library.  After a couple of attempts (due to unexpected roadworks and detours) we found a car park just around the corner of the Arcade which houses the library.  We spent about an hour and a half in there flicking through books and magazines before going in search of a bakery for lunch.

We went back home armed with a baguette and a couple of doughnuts and cakes.  After lunch the sky was still clear so we dashed across the road to the playground in the Memorial Park.

The playground is nicely laid out with lots of climbing equipment, slides and whizzy things that Hannah especially loves.  At the top part of the park were a shoe, car, wagon and plane made out of metal.  The girls loved the plane, climbing on top and jumping off, pretending to be sky diving.  The grown-ups joined in as well, but it all became a bit too much after a while and we ended up having a rest while the girls carried on running around and “sky diving”.

The grown-ups were in desperate need of a hot drink and cake so we managed to drag the girls back across the road.  As it turned out, again just in time before yet another major downpour.  It is now six hours later and it is still chucking it down, and it is really loud!

Our humble abode and posh car.

The girls spent the afternoon drawing, colouring in and watching “Scorpion Island” and “Sleepover Club”.

A tasty supper of potatoes, carrots and chicken was finished off with juicy nectarines.  Then time again for diaries and winding down before bed.

Tomorrow we’re off to Jervis Bay and hopefully some slightly drier weather…

It’s a washout

It has now been raining for well over 24 hours without a break and it looks set to continue for the remainder of our time here. Such a shame when we’re so close to some spectacular scenery – apparently. But there’s no visibility; we’re often enveloped by passing clouds in addition to the sheeting precipitation. Last night the heaviest downpours woke us up, sitting in a tin can as we are.

We needed to get some food so we drove to Katoomba, the main commercial centre round here. Coles Supermarket provided us with a couple of evening meals and we then searched for a library where we could pass a dry hour or two. But things are so inadequately signposted here; the free maps have all the sponsoring businesses marked on them but nothing such as ‘parking’, ’supermarket’, ‘bank’, etc. Even the Information Office proved elusive, and when we finally located it we were put off by the fact we needed to buy a ticket to park there.

So we paused in nearby Leura to have a morning snack; our view was like this. (That’s not blue sky, it’s the tinting on the windscreen.)

On the way back we spent a small fortune on tickets to see a film called The Edge on a six-storey-high screen – although I’d say that’s a bit of a tall storey (probably more like four). Just over thirty minutes of footage taken around the Blue Mountains with helicopters flying over cliff edges, vertiginous views down waterfalls, descents into scarcely-explored canyons, climbers scaling near-impossible peaks. At least we could get some idea of what we’re missing.

Beans on toast for lunch to warm us up, and an afternoon looking out on this:

We occupied ourselves for the rest of the day; Hannah produced the following (with Ellen assisting with the colouring). That New Zealand terminal ‘Z’ has clearly rubbed off on her.

The forecast indicates rain for not just the rest of our time in Blackheath but also our four pre-booked days in Jervis Bay. We ought to be zooming down to Melbourne; they have unbroken sunshine from tomorrow onwards. But we’ve committed ourselves now – perhaps we’ll wait before booking anything further until we’ve checked the likely weather in that region.

Pretty cool

(in a nerdy sort of way…)

If you Google ‘global prices’ we are now the top search result!!!

Hot and dry? Ha!

Kirsten’s first words to me this morning were “we ought to get some Feta cheese”. I gave her a baffled look, mainly because I know she has a strong aversion to the stuff (and it’s also a pretty bizarre opening line). It then transpired that she had said “fitted sheets” and all became clear – our next two stays do not provide linen.

We got up and packed by just after 9 this morning and fretted at the sheer quantity of miscellaneous bags we now require to contain our belongings. Seven rucksacks, a cool bag for food, a purple Farmers bag for fleeces and towels, two carrier bags for our walking boots, another for dirty laundry. That’s twelve, I think…

Farewell to AMG Ryde.

Anyway, we took over half of Reception while we waited for the large taxi we ordered. It duly arrived and $42 later we were delivered to the Europcar depot in Granville. Fine, they had our reservation and the car was ready – just the formality of a credit card to pay for it all. Smile Visa – Cancelled. Okay, so let’s try First Direct Visa – Cancelled. What???

Now by this time I had no more credit cards left; Kirsten’s account was inaccessible and the FairFX card had insufficient funds to cover six weeks’ car hire. A grim moment – here we were ready to explore, all our bags laid out in the forecourt, nowhere to stay in Sydney and now left in the lurch with no car. Could we set up the laptop, transfer funds into the FairFX account and then hope that the card worked? But the laptop was playing up again (disk full).

The full implications didn’t really sink in, but this car is a vital link in our travels, getting us from here to Adelaide whence we take the train to Alice Springs. We can’t not rent it. The man at the desk was not especially helpful, apart from suggesting shortening the rental period so the FairFX card would cover it. Not really an option for us. Strongly-worded emails to banks began composing themselves in my head.

In an attempt to rule out any remaining options I handed over my First Direct Visa Debit card, not expecting any joy (this card always gets rejected at Woolworths). And it worked! O frabjous day! We had slain the credit-block; we were on the road. ['Twas billing and the sly vetoes did mire the rental in the morn. All flimsy were the borrow-codes, nor the motorist o'er-drawn...]

I found the car, a plush new Ford, and checked out the boot space. Ample room for passengers, but not so much for luggage; perhaps we’d have to ask for a different model with a bigger rear. We gave it a go and were pleasantly surprised to find that it exceeded the capacity of our New Zealand vehicle – it swallowed our dozen bags with room for more.

Get Lady TomTom out for her final tour of duty and head off into the remote wilderness of the Blue Mountains. No – stop! Vital to pay our wad of cash into the owner’s bank account to reserve our four nights in Jervis Bay (before 3pm today, or else). So first a detour to the middle of Granville to make our deposit in the Commonwealth Bank.

Heading west at last; such busy roads after NZ, and riddled with speed cameras. The rain set in and stayed with us all day as we drove away from Sydney. Stretches of motorway with traffic peeling away at every junction; soon we’d be surrounded by pure mountain air and be revelling in the breathtaking scenery. We stopped at the information point at the gateway to the Blue Mountains; not just a board with a map on it but a fully-staffed visitor centre. Well, okay, more of a souvenir shop where they’d help you book your accommodation. We piled up the freebies and left.

Maybe one of the maps would show us where we could pause for a scenic picnic by a waterfall. Various points of interest marked along the road – no, wait a minute, they’re all shops and businesses. So we’ll drive on and stop at one of those NZ-style rest areas.

We drove on. An interminable suburban journey at 60kph, built-up zone after built-up zone. Not a glimpse of any mountain, any waterfall. Remote wilderness my [insert requisite part of one's anatomy]. Lady TomTom ticked down the miles; through Leura and Katoomba in the grey drizzle, stuck behind lorries through to our destination of Blackheath. Nowhere remotely worth stopping to have our sandwiches.

Blue caravan signs led the way to the creatively-named Blackheath Caravan Park where we checked in. Here my Smile Visa card worked without a hitch – yes, the one that failed me just hours earlier. The owner was far more helpful regarding our difficulties – chip and PIN is a new thing in Australia and not all the card machines are set up to work correctly. So perhaps it’s not us, it’s them. Not that it’s any consolation when you’re unexpectedly barred from paying.

We are in cabin no. 1, right next to the entrance. It’s old but clean, we were informed, and it’ll do us fine for the next few days. Essentially it’s a small mobile home with a double bedroom, a passageway with a toilet/shower room off it along with a triple bunk, and then a kitchen diner with a sofa bed at the other end. We’re well off the road and it’s so peaceful here, with just the sporadic downpours and the odd kookaburra to disturb us.

We explored wet Blackheath to stock up with things for tea and supper before abandoning the latter in favour of fish and chips. When we later returned for our takeaway (the imaginatively-named Blackheath Fish & Chips) we were fascinated to see that our receipt read as follows:

2x Fish & Chips
4x Nuggets
1x no Salt
1x no Lemon
1x Female
1x Blue Shirt
1x Male
1x Dark Blue
1x Glasses

Never seen that before; do they have problems with imposters pinching someone else’s order? Though I would have thought that 1x Girl Pink and 1x Girl Red would have been a more discerning identifier. At least we didn’t have a price on our heads.

Back at base the girls watched their first Australian Children’s TV (a bizarre cartoon about a hypnotised dog called Gooser and ‘Scorpion Island’ – which has been shown in the UK – in which teams of children compete in various outdoor challenges). I struggled with our constipated laptop which now showed zero memory available and refused even to connect to the internet to allow me to search for a solution. We seriously contemplated ditching it for a larger-capacity model that works, but we don’t think we’ll find a Blackheath Netbook Shop.

At length and with great difficulty I tracked down the source of the problem (a series of failed installations clogging things up), but we were precariously close to losing our online banking, accommodation research, let along email and blogging facilities. It shreds the nerves to be on the brink of losing your means of accessing money and your means of accessing the internet, both on the same day.

The forecast looks damp for our entire stay here (thanks to Hurricane Olga) but we might check out the shops in Katoomba tomorrow; we’ll make a dash for the mountains and the views if the weather decides to clear temporarily.

Let’s go home

On the road for six months (and a day) and things ain’t easy; even that taboo phrase “let’s go home” passed our lips today, however much in jest it was intended. The latest snag came when I attempted to withdraw some cash and we got down to our final bank card (of four!). Kirsten’s bank has recently decided to change from Mastercard to Visa and her new card has just arrived back in England (fat lot of use), so she can’t access her money at all now. Our joint account has hit its daily limit. My Smile card gave the message ‘your financial institution has prohibited access to this account’ (despite telling them our itinerary and there being ample funds). So it was all down to our trusty FairFX card – which got us through South America and has never yet let us down.

We needed the cash to pay into the Australian bank account of the owner of a property near Jervis Bay; lots of emails and phone calls this morning to book the place for four days’ time. After a false start or two we also booked an on-site van in a holiday park in Blackheath (in the Blue Mountains) for the next three nights once we leave Sydney. A mobile phone and an internet connection were essential for all of this – we’d be taking pot luck with expensive motels otherwise, and certainly no self-catering.

So – quite a few frantic moments wondering if we’d have anywhere to stay tomorrow, or indeed if we could get hold of the money to pay for it. Fortunately the girls were happy to occupy themselves; at times like this we can’t give them much attention, however much a trip like this is supposed to bring us together.

The balance was redressed when we went for our promised picnic in the park (just across the road); they had a few hours to enjoy the well-equipped playground (with all the swivelly things), at least until a nearby secondary school invaded the area for their lunch break and took over just about every item of equipment. The girls clung to possession of their fortress cafe, however, and served us all manner of imaginary dishes.

Around 2.30pm it started to spit with rain so we took our cue to return to our apartment. We did a quick dash to the shopping centre (another bargain $6 top for Kirsten, bread, an airtight plastic food tub for the next time we attempt to pack watermelon for a picnic…) and were back in time for tea. The girls caught up with their diaries before supper, leaving them a nice chunk of calm reading time afterwards (as a change from their rather-too-silly games involving their cuddly toys).

So, that was Sydney. We couldn’t suppress a hollow laugh when we read the Sydney Official Guide’s recommended schedule for a week here with children; every day was packed solid from dawn till dark with recommended activities (about 28 for the whole time) for mythical families with superhuman stamina, bottomless wallets and a coterie of travelling servants to do all the boring stuff. What about ‘do washing’, ‘buy food’, ‘book onward accommodation’ or ‘collapse’? I think we did three and a half of the 28 listed activities (Botanic Gardens, Zoo, Manly, Opera House from the outside only), or barely one day’s worth. We’re just not trying hard enough, are we?

And Sydney hasn’t yet given us any especial flavour of Australia. It’s another big cosmopolitan city with green spaces and water – but there again so is Stockholm. We’ve seen kangaroos – but only in a zoo alongside elephants and tigers (the platypus and wombats didn’t feel like showing themselves while we were there). Neither do we have any concept of the sheer size of this land; we’ve yet to leave the city limits. The Aboriginal population is conspicuous by its absence (I think Bill Bryson was struck by their invisibility) in contrast to the overwhelming Asian influx; the one souvenir shop sign (a posh hanging one) I saw in Manly was mis-spelt ‘abroginal crafts’ and presumably no-one had ever seen any need to correct it.

So it’s time to venture out into the vastness of this country. I was listing the possible stops along the coast from here to Adelaide via Melbourne and it looks as if it’ll take us the full five weeks we have at our disposal. No time to squeeze in Tasmania, sadly, or else we’ll repeat our New Zealand mistake of trying to do too much and rushing things as a consequence.