OZ BLOG PART 2

 Jim

BEER, BAILEYS AND BIKING

It's a mistaken belief that OZ is either sea and sand or desert. This isn't true. The proof of this is the 'bush' better known as the hinterland. It's a lush, green, verdant belt which runs behind  the coastal road and ends where the desert does start. But there is a lot of it. Hilly, winding and utterly splendid. Like the Windies, anything grows here. Unlike UK citizens, Australians can buy home grown produce at their local food store. No oranges from Spain, Apples from South Africa, Courgettes from Portugal etc, it's all produced in OZ. There are vineyards producing some lovely wines, and fields of hops producing some truly....... rank tasting beer. Yes folks that's where the eulogising stops. The main breweries must be run by brewers whose taste buds were removed at birth. All of them seem to produce the same foul Amber liquid. I have tried nearly all, Castlemaine, Tooheys, 4xxx and the assorted bottles that Jim had stashed away with his precious Baileys. The Baileys, he found out, courtesy of Trish, was the only booze he had that was drinkable. With the bravery of Julius Caesar's official food and drink taster, she ignored the 2010 sell by date on the side of the bottle and quaffed a sufficient amount to reassure Jim that it was indeed good enough to drink, put in his coffee, pour over his ice cream and use as toothpaste. For Jim loves the creamy elixir, and was grateful to be bravely re aquatinted with his ancient treasure. 

Jim's 24 hour Al Fresco area

This would be an opportune moment to associate you with our mate Jim. He's a Brit who sensibly emigrated here from Luton some 25 years ago. He lives North of Brisbane in Mountain Creek. He has a lovely one storey detached house in a long sweeping drive where no two houses are the same and no two houses are joined to each other. No semi detached living here. He has an
outside seating area which is used all the year round. It's not called The Sunshine Coast for nothing. Al fresco dining is the norm. Parrots squawk away in the trees above and at the end of his garden is The Creek. A mini rainforest with paved trails all around, on which cyclists are encouraged to pedal, runners run, joggers jog and power walkers don't see bicycles! Indeed, road cycle lanes here are twice as wide as any in the UK and strict laws govern just how close motorists can get to cyclists. As I found out there is a safe cycle way all the way to the seafront from his house. It takes about ten minutes to get there. When you do its all blue seas, white surfer waves and greenery. Paradise. On one side of the road is the sea and on the other, cafés and bars together with the usual sea side type apparel shops.

 

Bike Path To The Seafront

Jim made sure that there was a bike to use and I have repaid his kindness by buggering off on a daily basis to try and avoid getting lost, dying of heat exhaustion, and annoying other road users through ignorance of the local rules and regs. As you can tell or even imagine there is only one of the three I have succeeded in. Although it was a close run thing...............................

All Will Be Revealed In Part Three

OZ BLOG PART 1

TESTING CONNECTIONS: Thursday/Friday 26/27 March

I know it's well known and obvious but Australia is a  l... o.... n.... g way. It's three legs for us as we started out on the first at Heathrow last Thursday afternoon/evening. We arrived in plenty of time to allow for ourselves to be customarily ripped off at one of the posh new terminal bars they have established there. Unlike good old Stansted where you can get a decent pint, gin and tonic and a standard meal for less than a tenner, it cost sixteen quid at Queen Elizabeth's Terminal Two. I rather fancy even Her Majesty might have thought that a bit steep, a fellow pensioner, especially as the 'meal' was a paltry ramekin of rock hard olives. Still never mind we were in 'the holiday mode'.  I guess that's what the boutique bar proprietors rely on.

We didn't even manage to get any duty free. It's bad enough when all the deals are refused when you travel inside the EU, but, we thought, we're of to OZ well outside the EU, vodka and gin, litres of both on special offer, here we come! But no. Australia only allow in 100ml of booze bought in the UK. Might as well not bother. Trish puts that in one drink. They advised us to wait for Taipai. That didn't turn out well either. 

We were flying, Trish and I, on a previously unheard of airline, EVA Air. I looked them up. An Asian Airline. No idea what the EVA stood for but as a science fiction fan I was not hoping for the obvious. No need to worry. The aircraft were new and the cabin crews, all female, were so tiny slim waisted and petit that even with the refreshment cart in tow, you could still get past them in the isle with room to spare. Their livery however, left something to be desired. It looked a little like Plymouth Argyle's home kit. Bottle green with a thin white pinstripe. 

On the first leg there were however, communication problems. Mainly the PA on the 'plane. Each announcement was made in three languages, English being the second on the list. It was if each of the girls had been trained in librarian etiquette. This isn't normally a problem but when you are faced with interconnecting flights you really need to be able to hear the instructions. Their whispered lines were lost amongst the drone of the aircraft engines. It wasn't much better when we stopped either as the sound of seat belt buckles being undone drowned out the girls' gentle yet faint words. 

Where EVA really stepped up was in the quality of their in flight meals. For those of you who are frequent flyers, you'll know that the removal of the tin foil atop your breakfast or dinner can reveal all manner of horrors. On a recent flight with BA  my early morning repast was congealed baked beans and scrambled egg. Not so today. Lovely, tasty Asian food served with a smile. Your local Chinese takeaway would be hard pressed to equal it. Choice of alcohol was a bit limited but here was an opportunity to try some of the local beers as we made our way across the face if the Earth.

First stop was Bangkok. The plane was summarily full of your usual Brits, making their away to a nice cheap holiday, hoping no doubt for a fish and chip shop whichever resort they were heading for. There was a smattering of Asian people too and after we had disposed of the holiday makers and re embarked the aircraft, they had been replaced by a great number of Asian travellers, like us, en route now to Taipai. Naturally, as Trish pointed out, there was the customary young Asian girl with big over white weightman. (!) This occurs, so I understand, because in Thailand, the bigger, tubbier,  Westerner you are the more money you have. Therefore an attractive 'catch' (using a Moby Dick style harpoon gun I assume). The bloke we saw had to be loaded for surely he was paying for two seats on the aircraft plus another for his girl. He'd be ok at Queen Elizabeth's Bar at Heathrow. He'd be fine on the all olive diet! 

And so we flew on, out of Bangkok same plane same seats but newly through security, towards Taipai, another landing a change of aircraft and on and on to Brisbane.

 

REAL TO REEL

We landed at Brisbane mid morning. We had 'Stansted arrangements' with Jim who was going to pick us up at the airport. This entails parking your car five minutes away from the airport and waiting on a text from the newly arrived. Merlin and I have perfected this tactic at aforesaid UK airport. Avoiding the rip off parking charges is paramount when collecting him. There is a handy McDonalds five minutes from the terminal where the car parking is free. You don't even have to purchase one of their 'meals' but beware, your number plate is recorded upon arrival and if you exceed two hours hanging about loitering, a £40 fine comes your way. So timing is critical. Here at Brisbane Jim employed a similar tactic and we were soon picked up outside the terminal with the kind of haste reserved for gangsters exiting a bank job. 

Not long after we were cruising down the Sunshine Coast motorway towards his home in Mountain Creek outside of Maloolaba. The sun was indeed shining and the spirits were immediately lifted and the paltry two hours sleep I had managed to secure during the journey out and the ensuing fatigue was temporarily forgotten.

On Jim's suggestion, going to bed was not an option. He is a seasoned traveler and his advice is to be regarded so after dumping our bags and a show round of Jim's brilliant home were were soon having a snack and a drink before out again for some acclimatisation and orientation. I have been here before but for Trish it's her first time. She had regarded the trip with some trepidation, thanks in large part to mum Matilda who regularly informed us from the comfort of her home on St. Vincent that Australians 'don't like black people'. Jim was confident that it was a load of bull and did a brilliant job of putting her at ease.

In the evening we were guests at his club, an establishment on the sea front at Alexandra Headland. Views from the panoramic windows afforded a view of the surf crashing on the shore as the sun set in flagrant stages of fire. We dined on the finest .........no hang on I had pizza and the other two had passable pasta. But the welcome was warm. On my way to the bog, I took a wrong turn and ended up in the gaming room. The Ozzies, as we know, like a bet or two. A lot of hotels have gaming rooms attached to them. The Alex Surf Club had a mini Las Vegas. A room stuffed full of spinning reels and flashing lights, complete with one arm pullers galore. The bells, whistles and sirens constantly on the air. Manfully, I resisted and found the urinals. I was amazed there were no bandits to play as one stood contemplating the insanity of life and the nice comfy bed at Mountain Creek.