Perth, Australia

I've specified the country because, when we were listing our itinerary, one friend asked "Perth?" I'm not sure if they thought we might be going to Scotland or just wondering why one would go to Perth. Well, Perth Australia is a very nice place - though hot!

Actually I'm not sure that I shouldn't say "Perth, Western Australia". There is a certain amount of bickering between the tough, hard working, essentially decent, Western Australians and the soft, effete East (i.e. Sydney) where they sit around drinking coffee and being decadent. As a letter writer in The Australian put it "a bunch of politically correct pommo homo como vego bastards". Shouldn't that be "commo"? But I digress.

We stayed with old friends Judith and Ultan and their daughter Aislinn.

Aislinn is "practising to be five", which she will be any day now. So Happy Birthday Aislinn.

We had a relaxing time, sitting in the shade beside the pool which is lined with tropical vegetation. Where we get sparrows, starlings and seagulls, they have cukkaburras (sorry about the spelling) and assorted varieties of parrot.

There is also a lizard (called Coco according to Aislinn). And crows. The crows wake you up in the morning going "ah, ah, ah" which does no justice at all to their call. The first "ah" is a sort of small sound, suggesting "oh well I didn't expect it would work", the second is a "maybe it can be fixed" sort of "ah" and the last is "there you are, I've done it" sort of sound.

The next day we took a trip down the Swann River from Perth to Fremantle ("Freo"). The tour guide hadn't quite got to terms with political correctness: whoever he mentioned (Vlahming?) probably wasn't "the first man to visit the Swan River" - local aboriginal people had been there a while.

Actually the rainbow serpent carved out the river, resting a various spots which became holy places for the local tribes. This caused problems when there were plans to build a casino on what turned out to be one such site. White people didn't know it was a sacred site (it is known only to the local tribe and you don't tell outsiders). This led to a belief among some that aboriginals 'invent' sacred sites in the hope of getting compensation from developers. If true, what a heinous crime! People on the very edge of existence, living in appalling conditions, at way below the poverty line manage to screw some cash out of multi-millionaire property developers who are forced to pass the cost onto their equally wealthy clients. No doubt the entrepreneurs are crying into their champagne. (End of rant.)

Apart from history, the tour guide really specialised in how much various houses cost and who lived in them. Looking at the most expensive, my first thought was that, if it meant living in such a monstrosity, I'd prefer to be poor. Money doesn't buy good taste.

Judith and Ultan had arranged an assortment of outings for us and we had a great time, though as always it is the small things that strike you. We went to an outdoor movie. It was more civilised than the US version: no cars with steamed up windows! It is beautiful to sit out on a warm night watching a film but what really struck me was looking up at the stars and seeing Orion. The wrong way up.

We spent a day at Rottnest Island with Rosemary another friend of J & U from England. It reminded me of Tresco, another small island with wonderful beaches.

Except Tresco doesn't have "quokkas". Opinion is divided about quokkas, to their supporters they are like small kangaroos, about 1ft tall. To their detractors they are just big rats who have learned to look cute from a distance. My heart says kangaroo, my head notes a pointy snout and a hairless tail.

This one was squatting outside the tea room. He didn't look a happy bunny (rat/kangaroo). You are not supposed to feed quokkas but it doesn't take much scavanging to come up with melting ice cream, fried fish, muffins, rotting fruit and a feeling that civilisation has its discontents - and currently they were in this quokka's belly. Hope it's feeling better now!

Had a wonderful fish meal to celebrate the end of our stay and the next day it's time to fly to Sydney. On the last day I was invited into Aislinn's Wendy house. "You can stand up without hitting your head", she told me, correctly. As I straightened up, she added, "You're getting cobwebs in your hair. There might be red back spiders." But I'm still alive so I guess there weren't.

Lots more I could write but I still haven't reached Sydney. So off to the decadent east for the next instalment.

Lost in cybertime

I am adrift in cybertime, my blog talks about Hong Kong when really I'm in Sydney several thousand miles, several days and three hours (changing time zones) away.

First leave Hong Kong - though we're sorry to go. We did lots of things I didn't bore you with but here are a couple of sights I remember, both while wandering around the back streets surronding Nathan Road.

First, down a little alleyway a small group had errected a makesift awning and were performing Cantonese opera. Two very respectable looking ladies were singing and waving fans and a red handkerchief in approriately theatrical gestures. The 'orchestra' were two men on fiddle like instruments with a long necks and bowls the size of a grapefruit; there was a drummer and an elderly man playing a zither like instrument, tapping the wires with sticks. The zither player would have looked at home at a vicarage tea party in the home counties: well shined shoes, grey flannel trousers and a tweed sports jacket. The drummer was, well, like drummers everywhere. You could see he was dying to hurl himself into a frenetic rock solo but had to limit himself to the occasional 'dong' on a temple bell or dramatic 'bong' on a hand drum. Eventually a smartly dressed elderly gentleman passed. After making a donation he walked on to the 'stage' to inspect the sheet music and discuss technical issues (as far as we could judge) with the singers. It all had the air of a scholary recital, but performed in an alley with an audience of about five including a crazy tramp who waved his arms and did dance steps on an adjacent stretch of pavement. We made a small donation and were welcomed with open arms; we were offered the best seats in the house (two small stools) but life is too short to listen to a whole Cantonese opera.

Finally for H-K, the oddest shop we saw. Again down a back street. A small shop selling armour. Not Chinese, not 'antique' but shiny new, Knights of the Round Table suits. The window had the sort of outfit that Prince Hal might have worn ( maybe my dating is out by a couple of hundred years, 100 years war? whatever). Is there a big jousting scene in Hong Kong?

And so to the airport and an overnight flight to Perth. Still Quantas, still the same movies and the same food.