Rules of campervanning

1. Choose a van without daft patterns and logos on it. You're less likely to get lampooned by the locals.
2. The quietest campsite in the world is out there - just don't expect to find any spaces
3 (widely practiced) Look bored and wretched as you cruise from one place to the next. This will discourage others from taking up your hobby; thus the roads remain clear.
4. Late arrival will invite the angry glare of the established / territorial campers, especially the ones who've been there several months longer than they ought to've.
5. It's all about one-upmanship. When around others, talk loudly about where you've been and how simply fabulous you are
6. If you have a big rig (a house on wheels) don't try taking it to that idyllic campsite down 10km of dirt road with narrow wooden bridge. You'll just look silly.
You are now ready for the world of campervanning.

'Room for a small one?'

Life on Mars

This is what lies in the centre of Australia. Conveniently, most of the land that has been 'handed back' to the locals looks like this.
We've been in it for ... a day? A week? I can't be sure. Such isolation makes for strange feral thoughts. I keep wanting to dig a burrow, and I get confused and anxious at the sight of an approaching fuel pump or village.

Below: big lorries. Why do we never tire of seeing them? It's all, 'look Richard I think we need to discuss whether our relationship is going to survive the next-oh my god! Big lorry, BIG LORRY!'

All that glitters...

Things looking bleak at home? Fear not, readers. Our wheels broke down the other day, which puts us on the same level as that man in London who got snowed in for 7 days. Richard's conversation with the rental company went something like:
R: 'Hello.'
RC: 'Aa-yagoin'?' (or 'what do you want?')
R: 'Our van is in ruins.'
RC: 'Fair dinkum, mate' ('oh, really?')
R: 'Well?'
Silence.
R: 'I... demand a new vehicle!'
The new one's ticking over nicely for now. We recently made it on to the Barossa Vally for more serious matters. This place, just north-east of Adelaide, is home to such fine wineries as Wolf Blass, Penfolds and Jacob's Creek. I was so busy tasting the Reserve Pinot at one I missed a good wine tour. I turned up just in time for a lively discussion in the atrium, where someone was asking about why the grapes ripen this way instead of that.
'Because that's the way the cookie crumbles,' a wine buff answered, prompting a tipsy debate on odd sayings and how they came to be.
'There's "the pot calling the kettle black,"' said one person.
'How about "have your cake and eat it"?' said another.
There was a ripple of movement across the room as all those who had been involved in an affair (more or less everyone) suddenly felt compelled to shuffle sideways a little, smooth their hair, itch their little toe and so on. This was followed by 'all's fair in love and war' (more shuffling) and then 'there's no harm in a little white lie' (furious toe-itching).
Why are they 'white' lies, anyway? A good day in all.

Now the harsh South Australian outback lies ahead of us. It doesn't sound like a very hospitable place. A little late to worry now, seeing's we're hooning straight towards it.

Great Ocean Road

We've been on the GOR for the last few days. You can do adventure activities, or be a surfer, or simply stand at regular intervals, gazing out 'cross the oggan.
After some debate we've hired our own wheels again. We thought, we could return to buses / flying and hostelling, but there are the cockroaches, and it all ends up costing the same anyway, plus hostels often get taken over by people talking in loud voices about Big Brother and politics, and the relationship of Big Brother to politics and if I hear 'self-perpetuating myth' one more time I swear I'll ... Highly interesting topic, though.

* Oggan: 'ocean.' I heard some people in Devon saying it, once.

Coming soon: Rules of campervanning

Travelling safely

I ventured out to explore the city today, leaving Richard asleep. It's good to wander alone but you can't help feeling vulnerable at times, what with the ever-present threat from horrible sorts. I find it helps to sit and do a sketch because then you get a little following, usually consisting of nice people, who sit here and there around you, keeping the horrible people at bay.

Back at base R had risen late but had still managed to book this and that, write a novel and such. He's one of these people - we all know them - who really can just get on with 'to do' lists, without fretting. And in so little time! Like one highly trained in martial arts and capable of killing 6 people by just twitching slightly, Richard can sleep until noon and then spring up, move his a hand a little and ...ping! Everything is done. Hmph.

Get me some grog

I'm feeling flat. I wonder what to do. Don't any of you pretend that you haven't felt like this on your holidays. This vanilla muffin, covered with icing and jelly bits, should make it pass.

We're in Melbourne, Victoria, population 3 million-ish. Time to brush up on my 'Strine (Australian English):

Billabong: a waterhole

Milk bar: convenience store

Drongo: idiot

Grommet: a young surfer

Pohm (Prisoner of Her Majesty): person from England. Also Pome - Prisoner of Mother England

Esky: cooler

Thongs: flip-flops

See y's

We leave New Zealand shortly. A good job, because if we hang around I may be in danger of becoming a Kiwi and not returning.
Three months of holidays now and no developments on the new person front. I've turned up the heat a little by changing my hair. Still nothing. Australia next.

Rules of making long-distance phone calls

1. You have to make them, always.
2. Jumping up and down just before doing them is essential.
3. Have serious debate on how to 'get out' of current country and 'get in' to your home one. No one will remember off the top of their heads.
4. Always speak in a high-pitched voice
5. Make sure you call at the wrong time. You will inevitably. This is because (as with Rule 3) no matter how many times we're told the time difference, no one can ever remember what it is.
'It'll be about 8am there,' someone will say.
'No. We're never that far ahead!'
'That's what it said at the airport.'
'But what about daylight saving?'
And so on.

Picture: with the Kiwi Adkins.

This week: the mighty Mount Cook, New Zealand's tallest peak. Yesterday we climbed partway up one of Cook's smaller friends. A glut of glaciers greeted us at the top, making the nasty climb worthwhile.

We're now heading for a place called Kaikoura, where I've heard swimming with dolphins is all the rage. I don't think I'll be joining the queue. I've done some ridiculous things but 'swimming with dolphins' is where I draw the line.

Also pictured: the mysterious Moeraki Boulders on the East coast, so out of place with their fellow rocks.

-There are many theories as to how they came to be, but as with most things, no one really knows.

Cultural similarities #1

Yesterday we were on a scenic drive and we came across a town that called itself 'the sausage capital' of New Zealand. I thought I'd pick up a few, fry them up for dinner, keep R quiet for a while. But the shop in question was all locked up.
'So the er, sausage department is closed?' I asked the lady in the adjoining store.
'It's the weekind,' she said sourly.
'Sorry! I forgot- the shops don't have weekends back at home,' I said, laughing gormlessly. She answered by slamming my change into my hand, at the same time ridding herself, I noticed, of some euros she'd acquired from a previous customer. That's more like it, I thought. All that nice waitress business in America was just a passing dream.
In additional news we've been enjoying seeing lots of nice penguins and things, just there, in their own habitat, cages not included.