Nov 18 - Sydney

Today was a going to be a big day. With all of Sydney stretched out before us we weren't really sure where to start. After hitting the hotel breakfast buffet hard, we set out to walk back down to Darling Harbour and check out the aquarium. Merely five minutes into our walk we stumbled upon a monorail station at Paddy's Market and decided to climb aboard. An all day family pass was a steal at about $20 and the monorail does a neat loop around the CBD allowing for the chance to jump out near a bunch of tourist spots. We took it around to the Pyrmont foot bridge and the kids, in particular Allie, loved it.

Of course all of the tourist attractions are set up to maximize the amount of money they are able to take from you at one go and at the aquarium we purchased a pass that gave us access to the aquarium, the wildlife zoo next door and the Sydney tower. It was so complicated in terms of the different prices and places I wasn't really sure if it was a deal at all but at least we now had a game plan.

The aquarium was quite good and the highlight was a huge room where the fish (including many sharks, huge rays and turtles) all swim over your head. Like scuba diving without the wetness. We were then on to a great city zoo next door that was divided into seven different areas for the seven different categories of animals found in Australia. The highlight might have been the insect exhibit where we saw the world's most dangerous spider - some sort of funnel web or trap door spider that actually lives all around Sydney! Yikes! This was a big hit with the kids along with the giant cockroaches and more venomous snakes. Soon we were off to the Harbourside of Darling Harbour for lunch and a bit of shopping. Lint and Al jumped back on the monorail while Colin and I walked.

After a so-so food court lunch we were once again back on the monorail and over to the city centre for a trip up the Sydney tower. Unfortunately, there were high winds which automatically shut down the elevators for 15 minutes. This was not good for two reasons: a) the anxiety created by a very high tower experiencing high winds b) Alex's patience threshold is low to nil so there was a need for some damage control there. Finally we were allowed to go up and it was well worth the wait. Great views of the harbour bridge and the opera house allowed us to get our bearings for the city and the boys' clambered all around the glass as if we were merely feet off the ground. The Sydney tower is not nearly as high as the CN Tower - maybe two thirds of the height, nor is it as high as the Eureka tower in Melbourne, but it's high enough. The unique thing about it is that it has many, many cables running up the full length of it as well as access to nine stories of decks.

Once we returned to terra firma we walked over and watched two short movies that were similar to the Soarin' ride we had done at Disney World. Watching a large screen you are strapped into a large seat that moves and shakes making it feel like you are moving and experiencing the things taking place on the screen. The first film was a tour of Australia and relatively tame but we stayed for the second which was a four minute thrill ride on a runaway rail cart through an abandoned mineshaft. I am getting old. Recalling my Reef Diver experience in Dreamworld I had to shut my eyes several times to keep the nausea at bay - thankfully Allie was totally fine.

We set about walking through downtown on our way back to Darling Harbour where an Imax film was to be our grand finale. The streets were absolutely jammed with people and we had fun watching and walking through the throng. We stumbled on a beautiful and old shopping arcade whose name escapes me but I am sure is famous. Linton and Colin did a bit of shopping while Allie and I watched the people.

An early dinner of popcorn helped to keep us busy while we waited for the movie to start. This day was for the boys and they had chosen to watch Santa vs. The Snowman in 3D - certainly not mom and dad's first choice. It was quite a lame effort - the kind that the kids love but really makes a parent feel like they are gettin totally fleeced. We eventually staggered our way back to the hotel where a swim and room service helped to cap off a very busy but very satisfying day. I hit the pillow looking forward to tomorrow where a ferry ride and the opera house were on the agenda!

Nov 17 - Merimbula to Sydney

Today was going to be our big day of driving so we were up and at it early. We budgeted for about six hours of driving (which always seems to turn into 7-8) and wanted to get to Sydney before six to return the car. Eager not to have a repeat of yesterday's backseat excitement, I created a sort of booster seat for Alex so that he could see out the windows. We also banned any reading or game playing while the car was in motion. Surprisingly, Alex was okay with this. It seemed he also did not want to go down that particular road again.

Once away, we quickly climbed up out of the coastal area and over a ridge of mountains into more of the beautiful rolling hills and lush green valleys. The lady at the motel had assured us the road would not be as windy today and this proved to be somewhat true - as a lack of trees also gave us a much better view of the places and pictures we were speeding by. We drove through Bega a capital for commercial cheese production and then detoured toward a tiny hamlet called Central Tilba which was advertised as a national historic preserve - where all of the buildings had been transplanted or preserved as century homes. Unfortunately, we missed it by one hamlet stopping in Tilba Tilba and not Central Tilba. Oh, well. We picked up a coffee and a cookie for our troubles at the Love at First Bite Cafe, Linton bought a used Dan Brown novel for her trashy reading pleasure and we were away again just as the smell of fresh manure on the fields and the infuriating flies began to get the better of us.

Ulludula would be our lunch time stop and thankfully all of our de-nauseating devices had offered Alex a much smoother and enjoyable ride. We were now starting to see signs that listed Sydney's distance and so we were encouraged to know that we had completed about half of the day's driving. We stopped in a nice park/picnic area with swings and climbers and we had a fun nature moment with a beautiful white heron, bread crumbs and some "flying" minnows. Once again, the public washrooms should have been condemned.

Throughout our travels Linton always has three maps, fourteen brochures and a couple of tourist books open and ready for consultation and planning. The process was to call and confirm hotel rooms, read about tourist attractions, navigate our best route, and provide me primarily with a play-by-play of the areas we were travelling through. On this day she spotted a place called Kiama which boasted of a blow hole that sounded cool and kid-friendly. Our afternoon route as set.

A blow hole is a place where the sea has eroded the rock underneath a cliff and then worked it's way to the surface. As the waves roll in they run under the cliff face and force air and ocean up through the eroded hole exploding in an impressive display of spray that at times was 20-30 metres high. We parked on a beautiful point with a lovely white lighthouse and walked down to the blow hole. The kids loved it and we were all enthralled with the show, watching and waiting for the inevitable payoff like tourists might watch Ol' faithful. This was a great stop and a beautiful town and as we pulled out we noticed some guest cabins that woould have been perfect for us to have broken up this six hour day. Oh well, next time we said.

We were now only 2 hours from Sydney and we raced down four lane highways trying to beat rush hour and get to our hotel by six. Australia is interesting in that it's major highways often turn directly into interior roads within a few kms of each other. You can be speeding down the highway doing 110kms one moment and the next thing you know there are traffic lights, McDonalds and car dealerships. This was the case as we drove into Sydney, by Botany Bay, under the airport and then almost through a toll gate that I momentarily thought I might simply ignore!

Once we finally popped out into downtown Sydney it was full blown rush hour and we were totally discombobulated. A couple of phone conversations with our concierge at the hotel didn't really help matters as I thought north was south and south was north! With the clock ticking and all of us feeling a little punchy we drove on down a street I think was called Macquarie that I claimed I didn't like because "It was taking us toward the bridge". No sooner had I uttered these words than we emerged into a tiny cul de sac and low and behold at the foot of the Sydney opera house, no less than 200 metres away! We laughed! Now we had our landmark and after pinpointing it on the map the trip back downtown was easy.

We were all drained after the day's long haul so instead of venturing back into the city to find a gas station we made the executive decision to pay the extra fee to have the rental company top up the tank. That was an expense I was very glad to make! But the day wasn't over quite yet. After a bit of a rest we cabbed our way down to Darling Harbour, only 5 minutes away, and walked over to Cafe Nico for a very yummy Italian dinner - Linton's scallops were the highlight.

It had been a big day with about 470 kms of driving but we were finally in Sydney, Australia! It was a place I thought we might have been before now but after the past three days, I also felt we had earned the right to visit. We went to bed excited to see all of what Sydney had to offer.

Nov 16 - Metung to Merimbula

Morning broke early as there was a call for a round of tennis from Colin and another liberal soaking in the pool by Alex. Check out was at 10:00 am but before that Colin managed to beat Mom 5-4 at tennis and Allie and Dad did about 48 pencil dives, 17 throws, and several trips to the spa (whirlpool). We managed to get it all in as well as few tasty croissants, a long black for dad and a flat white for mom. And then we were off, headed for Merimbula about 4 hours away.

Linton had created an itinerary that would allow us to travel along the coast seeing as many picturesque towns and beaches that we could find. We also wanted to break the driving into bite size pieces for the kids and 4-5 hours is about their maximum before their wheels, not the car’s, fall off. Therefore our route placed us on the one and only two lane highway that travels the coast between Melbourne and Sydney - the Sydney-Melbourne Coastal Drive. It takes drivers through an area known as Gippsland that is just south of some of Australia’s ski country and the area known as Snowy River where they shot the movie of the same name. It is beautiful, feels remote, and there isn’t more than about 10 kms that are straight!

We first stopped for a 5 minute photo op overlooking Lakes Entrance. This is the place where the sea tumbles in behind the Ninety Mile Beach to form the various inland lakes where Metung is located. Then we were off to Orbost, a centre for forestry in Victoria and apparently still a place where loggers and environmentalists clash. This would also be the place where the constant movement of some very twisty roads and Alex’s fixation on his Nintendo began to clash with his inner ear. Thankfully we made it to a supermarket to load up on lunch supplies before his nausea got any worse. He was still looking green as we headed back toward the ocean in search of a beautiful view.

We found one in a place called Cape Conran Coastal Park. Apparently a mecca for scuba divers with a good reef and a few wrecks, we parked the car near a beautiful beach as the waves crashed around a spectacular point. Egg salad sandwiches and Tim Tams hit the spot, though Al was still not eating. We should have taken this as a sign…After lunch we decided to explore a boardwalk trail that wound its way around the point and had us crossing a few rocky beaches as the waves tumbled in. This was gorgeous and really felt like we were exploring the country together as a family. As we turned one corner with Colin in front we were also quickly reminded of what country we were exploring. First Colin spotted an echidna, Australia’s answer to the porcupine, foraging beside the path. Very cool and our first “big” wild life. Then, not 5 minutes later he saw a large black snake slither off the path in front of him. Yikes! That gave us all more than a little bit of a scare and forced us into beating a hasty retreat. Whether venomous or not weren’t interested in finding out.

Back at the car we loaded up and headed back to the highway eager to make up some time for our extended lunch. And speaking of lunch, it seems Alex had not really recovered from his earlier bout of motion sickness and once we were back on the twists and the turns of the Coastal Drive his stomach finally revolted. Now Australia’s roads do not have a lot of shoulder space, especially when you need to pullover immediately. So while I was looking for a car’s width of shoulder at 100km/h, Linton was leaning over the front seat trying to aid Alex with Colin looking on in horror. Once we were pulled over in the middle of nowhere we set about cleaning up. This involved, among other things, stripping Alex naked and doing a fairly thorough wiping of Al’s side of the backseat. Thankfully the upholstery was thoroughly Scotchguarded! The flies were tremendously bad and our work was hastened by their interest. Colin was a trooper throughout even managing to ask if his brother was okay which was cute in spite of the circumstances.

Back on the road we managed to get to a place called Cann River without further incident and decided to fill up with gas. From there we were headed toward a place called Eden which is famous for its history as a whaling harbor. However, before reaching Eden there were two more road related events that would make this a day we would not soon forget. First of all, Allie lost his lunch again which necessitated another high speed pullover and backseat clean up. Then, without a word of a lie, I was forced into my best Young Drivers of Canada defensive driving manouveres as a 5 foot Goanna or monitor lizard (pictured) slithered out in front of our car! Now, I once had a moose trundle out in front of my car in the middle of Algonquin Park, but he clearly knew what he was doing, travelled in my direction, and had no intention of getting hit. Next on the size metre for large animals in my way was this lizard and he had no idea. Had he kept going, he might have made it, but upon getting halfway he decided to double back and there was nothing I could do. Pumping the breaks madly I pointed toward the shoulder hoping to squeeze around him before he got too far but once I had two wheels on the limited, gravelly shoulder I realized that was not a good plan and headed back in the direction that Mr. Goanna was coming from…I hope it was painless.

With our hearts pumping wildly and in sheer disbelief for what had just happened, Linton and I could only laugh. With a snake, two pukes and a very dead lizard behind us, the road seemed to be taunting us and daring us to actually try to enjoy the trip. What else might happen, one could only imagine, but as we once again coasted through the gorgeous coastal towns of Eden and on into Merimbula, the beauty slowly began to overtake the chaos. Parked cozily in our Best Western hotel room and gnawing away on some decent takeaway Chinese food we relaxed, licked our wounds and realized that now, we were truly living an Aussie adventure.

Nov 15 - Melbourne to Metung

Alas, our next big adventure began with a very humbling negotiation of the inner workings of downtown Melbourne traffic on a Saturday morning. Having packed our sleek, silver Renault Megane with bags, maps, coolers, Pokemon cards and Nintendos – all the essentials for a successful odyssey with kids – we set out for a five hour drive east of Melbourne to Metung, a small lakeside community known as Victoria’s Riviera. Unfortunately, there was the small matter of negotiating our way around a huge Italian festival, 50 000 environmental protesters and the Santa Claus parade all blockading the downtown core and frustrating our best Mapquested efforts to “get outta town”! Eventually, we managed to expertly wind our way down to the right highway – actually tollway – without a single wrong turn and we were away. But only after calling the toll company people to pay our $4.85 on credit card over the phone for the toll we owed as a result of driving our rental car over 3kms of toll road without a transponder! This was perhaps not the start we were looking for!

Eventually, we got ourselves a significant way into the countryside and started to enjoy the gorgeous rolling hills of eastern Victoria, the green forests and farmland, and the opportunity to explore. The tandem of Carter on map, Darling behind the wheel and kids working the Nintendos in the back was once again working its magic and the kilometers began to stack up. A lunch/coffee/toilet break found us in Moe, a small town big enough for a drive thru McDonalds, an impressive Dinky car collection and a transplanted heritage town (think Black Creek Pioneer Village). It was also home to quite possibly one of the foulest public washrooms I have ever had the non-pleasure of experiencing. In Australia it is more standard for the men to pee against a communal stainless steel wall than it is to have your own personal urinal. For those of us who might succumb to the periodic bout of stage fright, this arrangement is no treat. There is also the added complication of never knowing quite where to stand and if I don’t know, the kids know even less. If in doubt one tries to stand as far away from the wall as possible. Of course, the prospect of finding soap and warm water is a bet the most fearless punter wouldn’t take. There are many times I have stumbled out of a public washroom in Oz gasping for breath, wishing I could shower, change my clothes, burn my clothes and then perhaps, the building. It’s enough to make you want to find a good tree or fire hydrant. Needless to say lunch just wasn’t the same.

Once back on the road we wound our way over endless hills and thrills travelling through a very lush and green part of Victoria that stood in stark contrast to our very dry Melbourne. The driving was easy and quite fun and I was finally behind the wheel of my first automatic transmission. Changing gears was no longer part of the collective driving equation which eliminated those awkward moments of stalling my way through a roundabout with the wipers going. In our sporty mid-size Renault we zipped along in style though I imagined a nice little BMW coupe would be a whole heck of a lot more fun.

Soon we were slowing down for signs that said Metung and the smell in the air told us we were close to the sea. Metung is in an area of inland saltwater lakes that are protected from the ocean and created by a ninety mile spit of beach that is apparently the second longest piece of beach in the world. This beach creates a natural inland waterway and there are miles and miles of communities and little harbours that dot the area. Metung is one of the more picturesque in the area and is the vacation home of Simon Davies’ family.

We stayed at a resort called Moorings at Metung which was a series of very comfortable condo-style units complete with pools, spa, tennis courts and all of the amenities of a very nice home. After making ourselves comfortable and doing some serious work in the pool we headed out for dinner to the local pub/hotel/club known as the Metung Hotel. This might have been one of the best meals we had all trip and we were all in great spirits. It seemed like half the town was having dinner with us. We sampled the local wine, we ate gorgeous salmon, and we enjoyed the fact that we were once again together as a family exploring and sharing every dirty bathroom and beautiful meal the road and country had to offer.

NB – A final note must be made about our new “friend” – the Australian Bush fly – who accompanied us throughout this most recent journey. In Canada we have our mosquitoes, black flies, horse flies, etc. and they can be a right royal pain in wherever they choose to pester you. However, Australia is unlucky enough to have a fly far more insidious than any of those bloodsuckers. And where there is a definite time or place for our flies (IE swamps at dusk) the Australian fly is here, there, and everywhere all the time. Smaller than a common house fly but similar in appearance; this fly doesn’t even bite you. It does something far worse – it simply bugs you. You never find any mention of the flies in any tourist information. It’s like the Aussies don’t even know it exists. There have been times where I have been standing in a group of people trying to club 3 or 4 of the little bastards out of the air and the people beside me haven’t batted an eyelid or raised a hand. In fact, the Australians have this sort of official swat that involves the slow and deliberate waving of your hand three times across the front of your face that they lovingly call the “Australian wave”. You see people everywhere walking down the street or sitting in cafes and suddenly there it is – swish, swish, swish. The Aussie wave. Incredibly it works and is far more cool than the sort of irate rain dance that I have invoked. I am perfecting my salute as we speak. And I need to ‘cause they’re everywhere! I went for what I thought would be a pleasant stroll on the beach near our condo in Metung for 5 minutes and was chased indoors by a storm of flies that would have made Alfred Hitchcock proud. What’s the real kicker with these guys is that they try to get in your nose, eyes and ears. They want to get in there. They have to get in there, in order to breed or eat or some God awful thing!. And they are often successful at getting in there!!!!! Ahhhhh! We are in the middle of the fly season in Melbourne and I honestly have to say that the fly factor is enough to challenge this burg’s reputation as the world’s most liveable city. There may be flies on some of you guys, but there are definitely flies on us!

We have returned from the Red Centre! (and many parts in between)

The Carter/Darling odyssey concluded another successful leg of travels today with our slightly bumpy, more than a little exciting landing back in Melbourne. This was a fantastic 12 day adventure from Melbourne to Sydney to Alice Springs and Ayers Rock and then overnight by train to Adelaide and then home. 3 major cities, 4 states, one colossal piece of red rock and almost 6400kms in the process. Much blogging and pictures to come, but for now - to bed!

Themes on the Journey

A recent survey of my last few reading conquests reveals a similar theme throughout: the journey. As we, too, continue to move through our own Australian journey, I continue to find meaning in the travels of others, fictional or not. The movement from one point to another whether emotional, geographical, chronological or whatever reveals so much about the character of people and the qualities of the worlds they encounter.

A while ago I finally wrestled Jack Kerouac’s On the Road into submission. The iconic road trip story had proven to be quite a formidable opponent and I continue to wonder at its lasting presence in bookstore windows. There are times where Kerouac waxes poetic about the jazz in a Denver club or the heat of a Mexican night that did supply this reader with an original phrase or revealing insight. But too often Dean’s boorish dreamer and Sal’s wasted waste of his career become annoying and whiny in light of the lives they touch and ruin. It is a novel about the possibility of the journey but too often I felt I was being mocked. Forty years later, the glory Kerouac heaps on to the notion of escaping responsibility and driving into a hazy, booze-fuelled sunset seems at first impractical and then downright insulting. Oh, to afford the luxury of not caring. Not in this century I’m afraid.

My next novel was more promising in terms of taking responsibility for one’s life – at least, that’s what I thought at first. Dead Lucky is the autobiographical account of Lincoln Hall, the Australian mountaineer who was left for dead on the top of Everest but lived to the tell the tale. I am a sucker for a good mountain climbing story and Hall’s tale, though nothing close to Krakauer’s Into Thin Air, takes you into the mind of a man who impossibly defeated death through a combination of luck, skill, determination, and the efforts of others. But what strikes me about mountain climbing or marathon running or any extreme solo sport is that it is ultimately a very selfish pursuit – especially if you are putting your life at risk. And that’s what I could not quite hear in Hall’s story – a genuine concern for the sacrifices other people made to put him on top of Everest and then drag him back down. Having made it back to earth and life through the efforts of many, many people and after having put his wife and sons and friends through hell and back – Hall wants to chock it all up to the “pull of the mountain” and what he had to do to be true to himself. I’m not quite there. If what you must do in life is so important that you are willing to risk losing everything, hurt others in the process, nearly die and then conveniently tell all in a book about it - then you are truly selfish. This book is also a journey – but for me it wasn’t so much about a man conquering a mountain – but more about one man’s pursuit of an obsession that only he could really explain.

I then moved on to a novel I have been meaning to read for some time: Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart. What a great story and another great journey. I loved this novel for many reasons. Primarily because I felt like Achebe was playing with me the whole time. He is a master story teller and knows exactly what he is doing in terms of how and how much detail he offers the reader. The story is the tragedy of one man and a metaphor for all of Africa and its struggles with the influence of “white” Christianity. It is such a simple tale but it reminds the reader that what may seem primitive and barbaric to some is natural and real to others. The chance to watch the righteous Western conquerors move in from the perspective of the “conquered” natives is shattering and raises disturbing questions. Who is to say who is right or wrong? Why should those with the most power impose their will on others? How many incredible civilizations have been lost as a result of the “rightness” of might? So many relevant issues for today that Achebe saw and felt on the African continent 50 years ago. His wisdom about the way the world works makes me feel like a silly little school boy. Life’s journey is stark and moving here and its lesson about how we all have the potential to fall from greatness reminds me that the journey is not always completely in my control.

Shifting continents entirely I picked up Bruce Chatwin’s On the Black Hill. Having enjoyed Chatwin’s Songlines so much I was hoping for a similar experience. This is a wonderful story about the Jones twins, Lewis and Benjamin, living out their days in rural Wales throughout the greater part of the last century. There is something about the relationship between the brothers that is oddly reminiscent of the connection between Heathcliff and Catherine in Wuthering Heights. Maybe it’s just the similarity in the weather, but Chatwin weaves a very readable tale around all of the struggles and hardships the two encounter and the complex connection that twins share. What made this story such a revealing example of journeys is that all of the lives in the novel are lived by people who struggle simply and work hard to put the next meal on the table. The life is simple and rugged but also intensely beautiful for that fact. It is a romantic world in which people die nobly and live humbly and I defy anyone to read this story and not feel a little bit like riding a tractor or shearing some sheep. It reminds me that fulfilling life journeys need not be filled with the material trappings of fame or fortune.

Finally, I have picked up the granddaddy of all “journey” stories – The Odyssey. I am familiar with the tale but I haven’t “been here” for awhile. And though I am still on Ithaca waiting for Telemachus to depart, I am already inspired by Odysseus’s endless struggle to return to his family, his wife’s continuing faithfulness, and his son’s refusal to give up hope. I can’t wait for what else this novel and this continent may have to offer me about life and the theme of the journey…

The Punters and the Ponies

Culture update. We have just come out of Melbourne Cup Carnival week and I wanted to record some thoughts about what could be considered a combination of the Calgary Stampede, Grey Cup week, and the Toronto Film Festival/Fashion Week all rolled into one. Where do I begin?

You first notice it in the store fronts, TV ads and flyers in the paper. Like a huge back to school campaign, there are ads for Spring racing fashion and all of it has to do with what you wear to "the Cup" and its many parties. Ladies wear fitted, flowy, short dresses, with ridiculoulsy high heels and of course a very weird looking hat. Men wear suits, jazzy ties, bright shirts, and maybe a hat of some sort. Cup day/week/month is an excuse to shop and look good. Ironically, it is also an excuse to behave as a bit of drunk and much of the high fashion gets trashed as each race day inevitably ends up as a bit of a schmooze and booze fest.

First there was the Caulfield Cup, then Derby Day, the Melbourne Cup, then Oaks Day and Emirates Day. It's at least 3 weeks of horse racing over various weekends and weekdays and the city, at least a good portion of it, goes crazy. Some examples would include the full scale fist fight that broke out in one of the VIP bars one race day. Made the headlines. Or on Oaks Day the trains from the racetrack broke down forcing 100, 000 drunk and very well off punters to kick off their high heels and walk home. There was public outrage! An inquiry.The train company made a $100 000 donation to charity just to calm the frayed tempers of the Armani-set. There was also the headline a few weeks ago that due to the withering economy some of the major sponsors were planning to reduce the amount of money they spent on race day festivities. This was scandalous! Or one day I counted 31 total pages of the Sports section dedicated to horse racing. 31! It is the news story day after day.

The actual Cup day is the first Tuesday of November every year. It's a public holiday for Melburnians and so the kids were out of school. For weeks we had been wondering if we should take part in the festivities or not and people seemed to be of two minds. Some said definitely and others said watching a race or two on the tube would be enough. After some serious humming and hawing, we didn't do anything much. Testament to that was the fact that I was in the library writing an essay while the rest of Melbourne partied. Linton and the kids had lemonade and watched the race at the neighbours. We didn't so much as place a bet. But we could have!

There is literally a mini-casino on every other block in Melbourne. There are "sweeps" in every office. Everyone seems to have a buck on this filly or that "sure thing". As a direct result there are also a lot of public awareness campaigns for problem gamblers. I'm not sure they have quite drawn the dots between their love of the ponies, the number of gaming houses and the problems associated with both.

Even our house is filled with pictures of cup winning horses. It almost makes you feel that you should brush up on the sport so you can understand it - or at least speak the lingo. So I did. Well actually I found an article in one of the local papers that was trying to answer the same question I was asking: What is it with the punters and the ponies in this country?

In a recent op-ed piece in The Age newspaper, my new favourite, the writer talked about horse racing as the replacement for any type of religious zeal that Australians might harbour. That's quite a statement. He goes on to describe the experience of watching a race in Federation Square this way: "The thundering of the hooves made a metal hum that shimmied through the entire cavernous space...racecalling is a form of Australian jazz and that's what Greg Miles' call of the Schweppes Tonic 1000 was like, his voice galloping with monotonal ease, save for the occasional flourish at the end of a sentence. I didn't understand a word but enjoyed it immensely." Racecalling as Australian jazz? Now that's saying something.

In the conclusion of his article the writer wonders at the strange confluence that existed on a wonderfully historic day - November 5, 2008 - in countries half a world away. On one contintent Americans were making history by voting in Barack Obama as their next president and on this continent Australians were partying it up in style and celebration of the next great Cup winner - who won by half a nose. Unlike in the US, this horse was not the favourite. However, the passion that Melburnians dedicated to this winner and all those who have run before, was "Obamaesque" in its fervour.

Phar Lap is one of this country's most beloved heroes - man or beast. There is a stuffed version of him standing on regal display in the Melbourne Museum. In closing his article, the editorial writer quotes this poem as an explanation for the complete and total reverence Australians have for their horses: It is Australian innocence to love/The naturally excessive and be proud/Of a handsome chestnut gelding who ran fast.

If Barack Obama and Phar Lap can capture equal billing and importance, at least in one writer's eyes, then horse racing is truly a past time that either I don't understand or desperately need to "take up" tomorrow.

Nov 2 - Exploring the Yarra Valley

Because we hadn't really done much for about 24 hours, we were suddenly chomping at the bit to get out and see the countryside. Our neighbours had once again graciously gassed up the trusty Holden and thrown the keys at us so what were we to do but to clamber aboard and head for the hills - literally! After debating the merits of mountains, beaches, or wineries we decided upon the Yarra Valley and a combination of the Healesville Sanctuary and the Yering Station winery.

The Yarra Valley is about one hour due east from Melbourne and is home to more wineries than one can imagine. A sort of Niagara-on-the-lake in an Eastern Townships-like setting. Really pretty with a much more lush feeling than currently dusty, dry Melbourne. The driving and navigating was relatively smooth with only one minor freak out on my part. Pretty soon we were cruising down the very toursity main drag of Healesville - reminding us of an older Picton - with galleries, pubs and cafes.

On the way to Healesville we had actually stopped in a little widening in the road called Coldstream to visit the uncle of Alex's best friend at Maurice Cody. He is in Oz having married an Australian and working as the chef at the Coldstream Brewery and Restaurant. We had a nice visit taking a few pics and walking away with 18 of the Coldstream Brewery's finest.

Our first stop was the sanctuary which has the largest collection of indigenous Australian animals in the world. It also has an animal hospital which is home to 1500 abandoned or injured animals. It is very well set up and we enjoyed the playpusary in particular. Linton just liked saying the word platypusary. After doing all of the possible exhibits including a really cool encounter with a Goanna and a couple of magpies we headed to the gift shop to stock up on a few "stuffies". Then we were off to the Healesville Hotel for a garlic-infused lunch. A neat and very busy spot the crowds told us we had picked the "it" spot. The prices told us that as well.

After rolling out of the hotel we headed down the road in search of the first vineyard to be established in Victoria over 170 years ago. Today Yering Station is home to a five star guest house, 3-4 restaurants, a gorgeous fresh produce store and an unbelievable art gallery. We were blown away by the setting and the establishment and felt a little bit under dressed compared to the rest of the clientele and cars in the lot.

Nevertheless, we sampled a bit of wine while the kids were drawing chalk pictures on the floor. We liked the MVR over the Sauvignon Blanc and the Chardonnay. So much so we needed to buy some. With our bottle tucked safely under our arm we wandered over to the art gallery/restaurant and pretended to be rich and famous. There was one installation piece that consisted of three mounds of dirt, metal and plastic going for a cool $27 000. I was tempted.

The Yarra Valley was a real revelation for its proximity and beauty. If money were no object another trip to the wineries and a possible overnight at one of the many spas and guest houses would definitely be in order. Either way, we'll be back.