Germans

It’s twenty past nine in the evening. I’m in Cairns, having snorkelled for the day desperately trying to capture a blur-free shot of something from the cast of Finding Nemo. My legs are thoroughly sunburned on the rear, from ankle all the way up to where the wetsuit clung sveltely to my thighs. Two Germans are playing cards to my right and two Swiss-Germans are uploading pictures to Facebook to my left. A rather large cockroach has just nodded vigorously, no doubt on his way to clean up someone’s mess in the kitchen. To my rear several House Geckos sound off and drown out the nearby crickets, who are chirping without reprieve.

I’m the only Brit remaining, the two others (one from York, the other Essex), have departed for Brisbane and left me in the company of various dialects of Deutsche, which is in all estimates now a largely spoken language. There’s over four million of them here – the vast majority on working holiday visas – making up almost a sixth of the population of the country. That’s a lot; this place is big.

The Immigration Museum in Melbourne was an interesting, if expensive 45 minute introduction to the history of this continent. It explained the differing attitudes and approaches to immigration, which in typical fashion were largely racist, perverted and politically motivated; though skipped over anything to do with the local aboriginal people with the bound of a liver-flavoured meat-source (well, I think ‘roos taste like liver anyway). Back here in Cairns and I’m left despondent by the aboriginal youth that stalk the streets, shopping malls and fast food joints – leering at Caucasians with resentment. And it’s completely understandable, if not made even more disappointing by the white youth who demonstrate the intellectual ability of an Amoeba. Where Melbourne seems to have an overruling Asian majority bringing with them a melancholy, yet hardworking lifestyle that forces the Aussies to keep up or perish; sadly Cairns is dominated by a mixture of surly and somewhat aggressive Aboriginal-heritage youth that seem to have lost their way.

The town itself is unique; like most tourist spots it’s built upon the premise of a few attractions and has hit growth-saturation point with hotels, resorts and eateries: There’s no more room in the inn. If you’re not visiting to snorkel, dive, parachute or observe wildlife; skip on to somewhere else. Otherwise, the great barrier reef is indeed something to behold.
I’m not a great swimmer; something about the water getting trapped in my ears as a kid ensured I was petrified of the life-giving substance. Add to that a couple of failed drowning attempts by “instructors” and a recurring dream of being stranded in the middle of the ocean with sharks circling my soon-to-be-brunch legs, and I never bothered learning. That is, until last year, where I decided it may be an idea having watched a Dragon Boat capsize and also having spun a double scull in the Thames.

With two motion-sickness pills reluctantly taken, I’m very glad that one of the aforementioned Swiss-Deutsche offered me some – for the ride out to the reef was punishing. Sat at stern (the lowest and hence least-mobile place on a boat), I’m surrounded by no less than four passengers emptying stomach contents in to brown paper bags, handed out by the crew (no doubt on “sick-bag duty”), which are then tossed overboard for passing by fish to genuinely consume. Breath deeply and close your eyes; it helps. Take pills at least an hour before you depart, for they’re preventative.

On arrival and it’s a quick change in to wetsuit, combined with snorkel, fins and a life-jacket for good measure. So it’s easy going; effortless in fact. Floating is easy in sea water; with a life-jacket it’s impossible to sink, though some of our company refuse to take part. And boy did they miss out.

I’ve never understood the attraction of diving; it always seemed to me to be a mid-life crisis thing; for middle-aged men and women that have reluctantly and inextricably remained single to try and find someone (it’s a little incestuous after all), and so expensive that you’ll need to have saved up enough to partake. Though in order to see the barrier reef – at the edge – it’s necessary to dive; snorkelling just can’t get you close enough. Forget using the zoom on your borrowed waterproof-housed camera, there won’t be enough light. Sadly with Asthma, diving isn’t an option, so I’ll just bob about on the waves and have a squint at the big chubbies knocking about underneath the boat.



Back to the Hostel and I somehow manage to win the didgeridoo playing competition (keep the mouthpiece sealed and blow a raspberry to form the embouchure), winning me an XXL T-Shirt and a free drink. I’d have one to take home if they weren’t so expensive to buy and ship, though at least I now know the technique for circular breathing. We are later entertained by a fire display where for some reason, I keep picturing either the guy catching one of the balls on his calf, or one flying off and taking someone’s head off.

Thus far then, Australia has been fantastic. It’s rapidly encroaching on my list of best places to visit and there’s still more to come. On top the capital; Sydney.

This one’s for you, Sanj

Looking around I see excited faces, cheering and applauding. People that flank me on either side and in the rows in front and behind are Australian. And though I have no idea what AFL is (and nor do I care), it seems the entire convoy with me on this connecting flight do; very much so.

Leaving Christchurch and it’s clear to see the differences between these neighbours of the arse-end of nowhere. It’s also plain as day as to why just about every Kiwi I met is planning, saving or already en route here. Crikey mate, it’s bloody awesome.


Here’s the strange thing though; I’ve met lots of Aussies these past 9 months. And from old to young I’m afraid I’ll have to admit that I’ve not been all that keen. Some have stood out however, and taken the edge off my opinion from fermenting any further. I’ve heard tales of £3 Oranges and £8 pints, and stories of horrendous hostels and rude, crass locals that shout “fucking Pomm” in your face. Though as fearful of Australia as I had become, it trumps New Zealand in every way and this city for one – is certainly one of the best I’ve stepped foot in.

Picture if you will, a population of happy-when-drunk locals (as opposed to degenerate fighting proletariat), friendly and helpful people only too happy to talk (as opposed to looks of bewilderment and fright if asked a simple question), beautifully designed and maintained buildings and infrastructure (as opposed to winding narrow streets of cobbled terrain and old grey grade-one listed horrors), and – most crucially – a multicultural society that positively thrives on it’s differences; welcome to Melbourne.

With incredibly rich hillbilly-like miners to the West ensuring the economy hasn’t been touched by the world financial crisis, comes the great power of the AUD. So expect straight away to be utterly shocked in to starvation and fasting after arrival (eat every scrap of that meal and keep asking for apples until you’re full). Do not bring any food, wood or seeds of any kind and declare at Customs – well I declared just about everything I had, considering the warning signs of impending fines and imprisonment if caught. Step in to the airport and fancy a snack? How does at least a fiver sound for the most basic sandwich on offer. And this is the Yang of Australia’s Yin; it’s a bloody great place mate, but it is indeed awfully expensive. A bottle of Coke for examples comes in at $3.90, which is more than twice the price of even Waitrose (I looked it up online, having paid a tenner for 24 hours wifi, which in itself would pay for a month of DSL back home). Japan has finally been trumped on expense.


Out in to the CBD and there’s plenty to see. Some people say they “don’t get” Melby; stating it’s simply Coffee shops, people watching and nowt much else. I disagree; there is plenty for around a week and cultural displays – be it a museum, exhibition or performance – are very frequent. True it is that coffee shops are everywhere, but this affliction is now commonplace for any major city, and come the evening it really comes to life. Gone is the “after 5pm it’s dead” mentality of New Zealand and instead it is replaced by the Asian-influence of late night shopping, eating, grabbing a coffee or just taking a stroll. The Asian influence stretches far and wide across Australia, with Television, children’s cartoons, comics and other media demonstrating a clear following. Relaxed too, is the general population; laid back and easy going with cars stopping for any human with a foot in the road and most people happy to take time over things. What stark contrast this is to the history and roots of the country and a wondrous place indeed.

To the immigration museum and it’s a lot to pay for such a small history of the non-Aboriginal origins. Little is spoken of the latter sadly, though a relatively recent resurgence of interest in the roots of the indigenous population has ensured some semblance of reparations are being made. Federation Square thankfully offers free wireless within its boundaries, which is gratefully received and the Tim Burton exhibition of strange innuendo-inducing drawings is good for a few hours if you don’t mind the hoard.


Four nights, plenty of wandering around, dinner with a mate and plenty of conversation with randoms and I’m left a little shocked. I was dreading visiting the place, though with misconceptions swept firmly to one side, it has to be said – Australia, I’m a fan. On to Cairns.