Spent the night at Port Augusta, a dinky resort town at the top of the Spencer Gulf (which itself cuts inland into the south of the continent from the Great Australian Bight.)
The biggest surprise here was finding some excellent Indian food. The second biggest surprise was the serving staff: two teenage white girls with braces.
The population of Shanghai is 23 million whereas the population of Australia in total is roughly 25 million.
Melbourne’s architecture is more of what I think of as Victorian. This particular building looks like a Sorcerer Supreme ought to live here.
Appropriate, as the state is resides in is itself named Victoria.
Much like San Francisco (which it reminded me of, a bit) money flowed here during a gold rush.
Now it even has gentrified alleys with hipster eateries.
The whole city seemed to be out on the streets. A parking attendant told me it’s because the city has the day off because of the Melbourne Cup (which, I discovered later, is a horse racing thing.)
Sadly, didn’t get a chance to explore Melbourne’s Chinatown. “Have to leave something for next time!” as my grandparents used to say
En route to Melbourne, saw lots of sulphur-created cockatoos (like the one from Wikipedia above) all just standing around the side of the road, like pompadoured street toughs loitering on a stoop.
Australia is super serious about drowsy driving. There are road signs with warnings and admonitions and suggestion every mile or two.
Spent the night in a boutique hotel in Albury. (A Midnight Oil song was playing when I walked into the lobby. Peak Australia.)
The main street had architecture that reminded me of the Old West (if heavily painted over.)
It’s absurd that I’ve never made this connection before but the period of the Old West was contemporaneous with the Victorian Era. Wooden saloon doors and gas lamps and velvet? It was all right there, hiding in plain sight.
I’ve been shocked by how few American cars I’ve seen on the road here. Almost entirely Japanese and German cars. Only the rustiest of rust buckets turns out to be a Ford or a Dodge.
The Toyota Hilux is a model I’m unfamiliar with, but there are a staggering number of them on the road here, specifically with this particular off road configuration with a “snorkel” for fording flash floods, no doubt.
My first meal after landing I ate under a giant sign that read “Real Aussie Tucker”.
Then, driving down the M31, I saw a sign for “Dog on the Tuckerbox” (which, I discovered later, is apparently a famous statue.)
Wikipedia led me to an article on “Bush Tucker“.
Is this in any way related to how the British use “tuck in” to mean “eat”?
Bundanoon. Goobarragondra. Mirrabooka.
All the toponyms here sound like they were invented by a child while drawing a crayon map of their paracosm.
Wagga Wagga. Tangambalanga. Tumbarumba.
Or like they’re the name of a Chumbawumba cover band.
(More about my general obsession with toponyms here and here.)
I learned about this baffling phenomenon while listening to Australian radio. Apparently, in public school or something, everyone in the country learned some choreographed dance to “Nutbush City Limits” by Ike & Tina Turner. And no one seems to know where it came from.
Some sort of country-wide meme. Reminds me something Justin Pickard (I think) said about nationalism being merely a set of in-jokes.
North of Canberra there is a town named Yass. Luckily it’s in New South Wales which spares everyone involved a lot of “Yass, Queensland” jokes.
Visited the Australian capital of Canberra. (Rather than being a part of any Australian state, it’s in its own thing called the Australian Capital Territory, sort of like how D.C. isn’t technically in a state.) The Parliament house looks like it’s production design from a Syfy channel show: a giant, hollow, grassy mound with a huge medal quadrapedal stand holding a flag aloft.
A shot of the Telestra Tower seen over part of the Molonglo River.
First impressions of Australia? Much like the western coast of New Zealand on the other side of the Tasman Sea, it reminds me a lot of San Diego!
Although, sadly, a San Diego dotted with kangaroo roadkill in every conceivable phase of decomposition.
I suffer from pareidolia as much as anyone. Which is why when I look at the control panel in the elevator at work I can’t help but see a sad, unshaven clown.
Sunset behind the clouds, high over Hong Kong.