Matt Harwood is not The Lounge Walrus
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Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Tripod at the Metro
Last week we saw Tripod's Christmas show at the Metro. Tripod are a three piece comedy band, or a very funny three man rock band, or something like that. They are most famous for being on The Sideshow, which is on some Australian channel or other, and doing funny songs in an hour on Triple J.
Their support act was weird. Really weird. I liked him.
Tripod themselves performed a series of songs, some of which I'd heard before and some of which I hadn't. All were very funny indeed, regardless. This one is even funny without the music. But for me, the best bits were the bits between the songs. And during the songs in one case. A chap got up to use the lavatory, prompting a "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" from Gatesy (the middle one is called Gatesy, the one with the guitar is called Scod, and the shorter bald one is called Yon). He leapt off the stage and pulled him back to his seat. Makes for a good show.
At the end of their shows they tend to do a cover. Since it was Christmas, they brought on a lady vocalist and did "Fairytale of New York". Lovely!
The Music of John Williams, Sydney Opera House, Friday 30th Nov
John Williams writes a pretty nifty tune. Elissa managed to land two tickets for this, and I was pretty keen to go, but had been hogging the free tickets, so suggested she take her father. Then on the day, I had a change of heart, too late. I was all set to take the bus home as Elissa wandered off to meet her dad, but then I got a phone call. "Where are you?" "Waiting for the bus" "Can you get to the opera house in the next ten minutes?".
So wandering into the foyer of the Concert Hall, the three of us were beset on each side by R2 units. Not dwelling on this for too long, we went into the hall, and the Sydney Symphony opened with the fanfare from th 1984 Olympics. From then on, interspersed with bad jokes I would have been proud of, we had music from Superman, Jurassic Park, Schindler's List, ET, Close Encounters, Harry Potter, and briefly, Jaws and Psycho (the latter isn't a John Williams picture, but that shrill violin thing got a few seconds' airing anyway). The first half closed with some music from Indiana Jones.
Two things really struck me about this concert. Firstly, not having seen an orchestra play that often, I was surprised at just how loud it got, and just how deep the bass sounds were. I guess a hundred people can make a lot of noise, when they've spent their entire lives learning how. Secondly was just how vividly the images that go with the music came to mind. You could see ET and Elliot flying round the top of the concert hall, and the T-Rex leaping out behind the orchestra. Indy might has well have been swinging on the doughnuts (they have big perspex things hanging from the roof to help reflect the sound) with a couple of owls hanging round for good measure.
During the interval, I passed Darth Vader in the area around my door, as I made my way to meet Elissa and her dad. "There's a bunch of stormtroopers hanging round this side of the theatre". "I know - Darth Vader's just round the corner" I replied. So we set out to get as many photos as possible before we went back in. Sadly Darth was only stopping for photos with you if you were two pretty blonde girls. I am not two pretty blonde girls, so I settled for Boba Fett. As we aimed guns at each other I said "Now thousands of internet Star Wars geeks will be asking which of us shot first". He laughed politely... (By the way I'm not a huge Star Wars geek, I swear, I just spend too much time on the net not to pick up a few of these things).
Back in the concert hall, the lights go down until the hall is pitch black. Suddenly, with the accompanying noise, a light sabre is produced from the conductor's stand. As the lights go up, he puts it down and picks up his baton, to a quiet sigh of disappointment from a polite audience. As the Star Wars opening music dies down, Darth Vader enters the concert hall, proclaims he is the lead violinist's father, and insists that he will only spare the conductor's life if he continues to play music from Star Wars. Meanwhile, 5 stormtroopers post themselves at the foot of the stage. Music from all 6 films fills the rest of the show, the Imperial March getting the best reception. All in all, an excellent way to spend a few hours. I'm just glad I didn't end up with a seat at the front - those Stormtroopers looked pretty nasty!
It's official - I'm leaving Sydney, and Australia, on 7th March, until which time I expect to be all over the place. There's short trips to Canberra and the Blue Mountains that really should have been made by now, and then in a broader sense, the following:
12th Nov - 22nd Dec - Sydney, mostly working with Red Kite. 22nd Dec-24th Jan - Up and down the East Coast to Brisbane, Townsville and back. 24th Jan - 16th Feb - Sydney again, with my parents here for much of that time. 17th-22nd Feb - Cairns with my parents. 23rd Feb-7th Mar - In Sydney, frantically packing and figuring out what to do with my life once I get back to Britain. Meanwhile, Mum and Dad see Uluru and Perth 7th-12th Mar - Singapore. Again, with my parents around for a while. 13th March. Return to the UK.
Elissa and I are figuring out where we should be at New Year. I'm strongly in favour of hanging around the NSW-QLD border, so we can celebrate twice, because of the time difference. Elissa is strongly in favour of Miami, because of the Will Smith tune of the same name.
Well, no one expected England to get that far, but they did, and they held their own in the final. I could moan about the disallowed try, but I think it looked out as well, by a fraction. I think we lost to a better team, a more consistent team, and I'm proud to be an England supporter (albeit one who couldn't be bothered to watch it live), which I wasn't when the tournament started.
What I want to moan about is that as soon as the final coverage was over (the 2pm repeat, I didn't have the energy for the Australian 4am start) the Aussie commentators started whining about the style of rugby England had adopted. Presumably Australians think that people are conspiring against them if they don't win a World Cup at least once every three times. There were calls for a 'more entertaining style of rugby', 'less rules', 'less emphasis on kicking' - anything that would have had them win their match against England, to my mind. Essentially, they were calling to make Union more like League, and to make it more rewarding for the Southern Hemisphere style of play (grown, in Australia, largely from an enthusiasm for League over Union). Read the engraving on the World Cup, the lineup of winners since 1987. Do the Southern Hemisphere really need any more help?
I like my coffee like I like my women - covered in Bogongs!
At the moment, most of Sydney is covered in Bogong Moths. Initially I had confused conversation about Bogongs for conversation about Vogons, and later, Bogans, but I caught up in the end. These things get everywhere. The air is thick with them in certain parts of town, you could wave a big net and catch a hundred at a time. One office issued a memo, reportedly, telling its employees not to yawn outside the building.
We have found some entertainment in this, though. Every evening, Scampina, Elissa's cat, chases a moth round the living room, and then eats it. She's a pretty pathetic hunter, and like most cats, tends to play with her prey. She still hasn't figured out that when you let flying prey go, it flies away, and you have to wait half an hour for it to land near the floor again. Entertainment value aside, the more moths in the living room, the more exercise the cat gets, and because she tends to sleep better after exercise, which means she doesn't get up early and miaow at the bedroom door from 5am, the more sleep I get. So the more Bogongs the better, I say.
I'm on to my third temping assignment at the moment, and in many ways my favourite.
The first assignment was a day's work in Adobe InDesign, laying out a report for a teacher's association. Teachers are usually represented as overworked, underpaid and underresourced. The general mood in that office was pretty grumpy and sarcastic.
The second assignment was four months with a financial services company in the CBD. I was calling people and inviting, and at times demanding, payment for overdue invoices. The atmosphere in the office was relaxed but, being a finance department, still efficient. I met some great people, and despite a few difficult clients, had a good time.
Now I'm working for a cancer charity, doing data entry and random Excel and Access tasks. There's a great atmosphere in the office, with the sort of people you'd expect to work for a good cause rather than a big pay packet, and while there's still some gentle pressure, there isn't the same demand you get from working for a business. I think I shall find a charity to work for when I get home.
On an unrelated note, today we failed to get tickets for Big Day Out in Sydney, meaning we failed to get the opportunity to see Rage Against the Machine and Bjork perform in Centennial Park. I suspect we may try to get in by fouler means though, whether fence jumping or volunteering. And there's still a chance to see the show in Queensland, where everyone is reportedly a bit slower. Hopefully that means it won't sell out as quickly.
The Afghan Express was the name affectionately given to the camel trains that used to be Alice Springs' only connection to the outside world, and so when the rail link to Adelaide was finally completed, it adopted the same name. Australians, though, are remarkably lazy when it comes to words with more than two syllables (for example, aggro, ambo, arvo, bikey, beaut, and that's just from the beginning of the alphabet), and so they shortened it over time, until the train is now simply called the Ghan. It's pronounced to rhyme with can, though most British and some Australians pronounce it to rhyme with barn, quite understandably. The company that runs the train reverses the usual trend for abbreviation, insisting on calling the train The Legendary Ghan at every opportunity. Presumably the only reason they don't write that on the engine is because the writing would have to be much smaller.
I got onto the train and sought my seat. Seeing someone sat in the seat next to mine, I said "Hi, I'm seat number 6", intending it to be a light hearted introduction. She replied "Yes, that's the aisle seat, I'm number 5", clearly assuming I was asking her to move. There was a pause, while I contemplated spending the whole journey next to someone I'd ticked off in my first 5 words. "My name's Matt". "I'm Michele, nice to meet you". Michele was from Co. Clare in Ireland, and was also heading up to Darwin, so we chatted for a bit, and then she discovered a free seat at the front of the carriage. As we were stuck on the train for a full 24 hours, she thought it'd be sensible to take it, but we agreed to meet for dinner, and over dinner decided we got on well enough to organise our activities in Katherine together.
The Katherine stopover was from 9am to 2.30pm, giving us 5 hours plus to enjoy Nitmiluk National Park, or Katherine Gorge. So I booked my gorge transfer bus, and Michele did the same. On arriving in Katherine the following morning we were told we'd need to be back on the train at 1pm, as a freight train was due to use the track around the station from that time. Fine, that still leaves four hours. By the time we got to the gorge, it was shortly after 10am. Fine, still three hours to get back to the train. The coach driver said "Right, you guys, meet me at the visitor centre at 11.15am". My five hour exploration of one of the Top End's big draws had finally come down to a little under an hour, and Michele and I were more than a little vexed. Still, walking up the cliff of the first gorge, we made the first lookout and took some photos. A random Australian tourist talked about sport to me (I'm so glad I don't like cricket) and we headed back down, leaving enough time for a 10 minute swim in the river (keeping an eye out for crocs) before heading back to the bus. It was a hell of a view, as you can see, but I woudl have liked a little longer.
Back on the train, we waited in the platform from 1pm to 3pm, then headed to Darwin. On the way, the film in our carriage was Norbit. Don't bother seeing it. I never thought I'd say this of any film, but The Nutty Professor was actually better than Norbit. We finally arrived into Darwin at about 7.30pm, an hour late, and just in time to miss the sunset. The Legendary Ghan struck me as legendary in two ways only - slow and late. Having said that, it's a great way to see places on the way to your destination, there was much more space than on a plane, and not surprisingly, less turbulence.
Alice Springs is a fascinating town in its history. Originally just a telegraph station on the North-South line from Adelaide to Darwin, it was a vital link in communications with Britain and the rest of the world. The telegraph system meant messages to London that previously took three months to get there and back could be transmitted in a matter of days. The name came from the Alice Spring, a waterhole by the station 3km north of the town (originally called Stuart after an explorer). The spring, in turn, was named after the postmaster's wife, Alice. It's around 1500km to Darwin, and the same to Adelaide, and those two points are the closest coastal towns, and the closest settlements with more than about 10,000 people. A lot of this history is told on a very informative and well presented tour of the telegraph station, which I took yesterday.
Among Alice's attractions are a Desert Park (which Bill Bryson dryly remarks upon, exclaiming disbelief at a recreation of authentic desert environments in the desert), a Botanical garden sycophantically devoted to the woman who set it up, and even the reports in the ark only manage to thinly disguise how cantankerous she was - part of dealing with the harsh conditions, I suppose - and an annual regatta which has to be cancelled if there's any water in the river. The Todd river flows very rarely, and once didn't flow for 8 years. In fact, they say if you see it flow three times you're a local. This year it flowed three times between January and March alone, s there's a lot more locals out there these days, but right now it's dry as a bone.
Waking up in the dorm at Annie's Place just in time, I went out to meet Danie and Yoko for breakfast. We wandered up Todd Street Mall, and picked up a substantial breakfast. We bumped into Susan too, who was exploring the town. We all learned that Susan had vaccinated chickens for a living in Perth, and when she described the skills this required we were a bit surprised. Susan is a very quiet young woman from Taiwan, and the thought of her carrying 7 chickens in each hand didn't sit right somehow. Anyway, after sitting enjoying the busker on the bench across the street, we parted ways, and I explored the town for myself. The view from Anzac Hill was a great way to get oriented, though it's difficult to get lost in Alice Springs, and there were numerous places selling aboriginal art and didgeridoos. You get the impression that a number of Aborigines are able to make a living from this, as they should - it's good stuff. The sad thing is, the vast majority of Aborigines seem to be very poor indeed. The crowds outside the hospital alone are testament to that. This morning's local paper reported on some YouTube threads against a video containing racial slurs from a local sports match, and seemed to suggest that there were still a lot of problems in that area.
Across from the hosital there's an excellent secondhand bookshop, where the lady who runs it is so familiar with her products that she was able to turn straight to the section on Alice Springs in "Down Under" by Bill Bryson. "He was a bit harsh with Alice" she said. I read it later. He said it was a bit dull, and peole come here largely because it has a reputation for being hard to get to, which is absurd now it has a commercial airport. He also said people came because outback life is harsh and gritty, and right now, Alice is full of American chain shops. He also said that, despite all that he liked it rather a lot (though he liked it more after a few drinks). I agree with all of that, and don't think it's unfair or harsh at all.
Back at the hostel, Scott, a reptile expert from North Sydney, is staying overnight to make his way to Darwin. He's been trying to get there for years, but something always comes up. "Last year my brother died" he said. "That was inconsiderate of him" I replied, as sensitively as possible. "Yeah, he always was a selfish bastard". After the uncomfortable pause that followed, Scott said he was heading down to the bar "so I'll see you down there later". It was a statement rather than a question, so I went. There, Evan from New Orleans, Mark from England and Scott and I put a few beers away, with a German girl called Caroline and a Dutch girl whose name I've already forgotten, and Rio from Japan. Eventually the male contingent returned to our room and played Uno with a bottle of bourbon and some Coke. The room was a ten bed dorm, and there were six of us playing. One other guy was out for the evening. So we were a little surprised when 4 guys from Hong Kong arrived for the night. The problem was compounded when two Irish guys returned from their evening out. Eventually someone was called up from the bar to sort it out - it turned out the guys from Hong Kong had booked for the following night, or otherwise had been booked for it in error - and we got a good night's sleep. Scott, on the other hand, full of bourbon and Coke, decided now was a good time to hit the road. So he jumped back in his car and disappeared. Being half asleep when he left I did say "What, now?" and when he replied "yeah, this is the best time, the roads will be quiet", I hadn't the presence of mind to argue.
Most of the rest of my time in Alice has been pretty uneventful but it does have a certain charm. You kind of want to stay here longer just to see if anything happens. Maybe it's also because you want to see whether the river "flowing" is the same as rivers flowing everywhere else, or it's just a damp streak of mud down the middle. Maybe it's to see whether the busker knows the middle section to Easy by the Commodores or not (sadly he was interrupted halfway through by an admiring member of the public). Maybe it's because there's a rock festival here this weekend. Anyway, I'll be on the train to Darwin in a few hours either way, and I'll leave feeling glad I came to Alice, even if I can't quite say why.
This is the bit of the travelling I'd been waiting for. Three days in the desert, camping under the stars. The Olgas, Uluru, King's Canyon, and lots of other stuff. In a lot of ways it lived up to the buildup I'd given it, but in some, it was a little different. Firstly, the three days in the desert consisted of stops at fuel stations, and about 8-12 hours' driving a day, and secondly, the first night I had wildly underestimated how much I needed to wear to keep warm! All in all though, I'm still very glad to have done it, and grateful to Terry our tour guide and driver (and cook, and entertainment, and astronomer and general resource - a really incredible guy) and to the other folks on the tour for making it so much fun.
12th September - I was picked up from the hostel ready to hit the road. The driver, Terry mentioned we were being joined by Yoko Ono, and we joked about whether it would be the proper one. We picked up everyone else from around town and headed out of Perth. At about noon we stopped for lunch - sandwiches and pasta salad, very tasty, and a few people made introductions. Then we headed out to Kalgoorlie and Coolgardie, which is goldmining country. This would be our last chance to get cheap booze for about a week, the driver said. Then we headed out to our campsite - a flat area of dust just off the highway - and set up a fire and camp for the night.
13th September - We got up at sunrise, something we were going to have to get used to. I hovered by the fire, desperately trying to get back some lost heat from the cold, windy night. We piled onto the bus and headed to the abandoned gold mining town at Gwalia, and spent 15 minutes looking at the rusted shacks with tables and chairs, beds and even books still in there from 1967 when the town was closed down overnight. The rest of the day was spent driving, but we did see kangaroos, eagles, goats and even emus from the truck. We also saw a thorny devil, a spiny lizard, and so Terry stopped and showed it to us close up. It even ended up on Jurgen and Jo's heads! Terry also showed us a few waterholes on the way. The aborigines used to fill them with gravel to stop anything falling in and polluting the water. One we saw hadn't been maintained, and was full of emu, so probably wasn't good to drink. When we got to the camp, Ellie said she was worried about scorpions, but Terry said she shouldn't worry about them, the snakes are much worse! After that, she was going to sleep on the bus, but she braved it, even after spotting a snake shaped branch on the floor.
14th September - Lots of camels on the roadside all day today, and all dirt roads, much like yesterday, and much like the following day, it would transpire. We stopped at Warburton, one of the most remote petrol stations in the world! It's odd to drive 300km without seeing anything, and then arrive at a roadhouse by an aboriginal town you aren't allowed to enter, and then drive another 300km to the next one. At the next one though, there was a weather station, and we were there just in time for the weather balloon launch. If the meteorologist bears a striking resemblance to Ellie, that's a coincidence, members of the public aren't allowed to launch weather balloons.
Earlier in the day I'd asked Terry how often he got flat tyres. He said "Hardly ever, but now you've tempted fate, so if we get one, it's your fault!". Guess what?! We got one... Terry fixed it when we got to our camp, just over the Northern Territory border. And we found a frisbee and threw that about a bit. And I sang Great Balls of Creep to everyone, round the fire.
15th September - At about 10am, a few hours on the road, we sighted the Olgas on the horizon. I realised I didn't know what to expect from them, but they were every bit as impressive as Uluru. On the walk into the valley we met some very jubilant greek guys from Melbourne. They caught us up near the car park and danced with Megan and Danie, which we all joked about all afternoon! A few minutes later, Uluru came into view, and we drove past to Yalura, the Ayers Rock resort. After lunch we headed to the rock and saw a waterhole at the foot of it, and some cave paintings. The information we were given, and Terry's talks about the sites at the foot of the rock, drove home the cultural significance of Uluru to the ancestral owners. Later we watched the sun set on the rock, and behind the Olgas, and then headed home for dinner on the campsite.
16th September - Yesterday afternoon the climb had been closed so we headed back for another go. First we watched sunrise on the rock, which meant getting up at 4.45am. So much for being on holiday! The climb was closed again though, so we did the base walk instead. In a way it was a relief not to have to decide whether to go up or not, and the base walk was fascinating - more dreamtime stories about the patterns in the rock and what they meant, and incredible scenery rising from the flat of the desert. A talk we heard said "You could see a bull ant at 10km out there, as long as it wasn't lying down" and it's nigh on true.
In the afternoon we headed round to King's Canyon. Although we were getting rock fatigue, it was another spectacular trip. The climb to the top of the rim walk nearly killed me though! We also found the water hole in the back of the canyon, by the Garden of Eden, and I sat with my feet dipped in the cool water for a few minutes before we started the walk back to the bus. Alas, two of us got a little lost on the way - Megan and Ellie took a wrong turn and ended up back by the water hole. They radioed the rangers who came out to find them, following Terry who had left ten minutes before, and half an hour later we heard they were on their way back. By the time they got back to the bus, exhausted but safe, it was dark, and we spotted a satellite going overhead just before they returned.
17th September - Today there were lots of morning activities available - camel rides, helicopter rides, Harley rides. I chose the cheapest one, a lie-in! On the way we found some meteorite craters - not that impressive, as the sharp edges had been worn down over the years, but still colossal for the size of the rocks. At the roadhouse just outside Alice we tried to see Dinky the singing dingo, but he was on tour to Alice, so we soon moved on. Arriving into Alice was great - civilisation at last! I wandered to the station and caught the 'Ghan leaving for Darwin, so I watched it go. I'll be on the train myself on Thursday. Then we all met up for a meal in town, a goodbye for the tour people. The bar was great fun - peanut shells on the floor, and snakes in a tank in the bar. Later the owner brought the snake out, and passed it round. Even Ellie, whose fear of snakes was pretty intense, managed to stroke it at one point. It was kind of hard saying goodbye to everyone, but I was glad to be sleeping in a proper bed again!
I'm a little embarassed about this. My first night in a dorm, my three roommates all hardened construction workers, I hadn't eaten since breakfast and a few drinks later (well, a lot of drinks later) I had thrown up on the balcony. This is not something I plan to repeat, especially as we nearly came to blows, as apparently I hadn't been that quick in offering to clean up. Clean up I did, though, and since then I think we've all got on ok. Not to be repeated in Alice or Darwin I think. This did make 7th prety uneventful, but when I walked into town for dinner I saw they were setting up a tarmac rally, and got some lovely photos of all kinds of cars. Perth is very pretty at night too.
8th September I wandered round some of the museums, and was particularly impressed with the Aboriginal exhibition at the Museum of Western Australia. The rest of the museum was geology, natural history and a vague amalgamation of the three above areas specifically focused on Perth. All very nice, but nothing special, but the Aborigine section was fascinating. I spent a good 45 minutes in there (a long time for me, ask anyone) absorbing all sorts of information about early conflicts with the white folks, the 'stolen generation', Aboriginal rights in Australia. One particularly touching moment was when a father told his 5 year old daughter "Well, they were taken away from their parents when they were younger than you". I don't think I'd realised the enormity of it until then, and that it was all so recent, in the Fifties. I understand a bit more about all of the reconciliation and National Sorry Day and why that's so important, where I was a bit cynical before, as I didn't see what it would do. Another quote on the wall said "Black men know that when white folks find gold, black men have to leave, and the white men stay". I think that's been true one way or another all over the world.
The state art gallery is well worth a visit too - being out of my depth where art is concerned I won't go into too much detail, but it was nice to see mainly recent, mainly Australian works, instead of the Renaissance and classical oil paintings that seem to dominate the NSW art gallery. The glass sculptures were a particular highlight.
9th September This morning I booked my ferry and bike hire for Rottnest Island, and headed out to Fremantle. Arriving at 11.30am meant I had four hours to kill, so I headed to the markets for an hour or so. Fremantle Markets are a hive of activity, with all sorts of things on sale. Highlights for me were the kite stall and the Bratwurst, but I hadn't eaten since the previous afternoon, so I was pretty peckish. The Roundhouse seemed to suggest itself, so I headed up there for the time ball and time gun talk at 1pm. The man explained that the ball fell so that people would have the right time even on ships some kilometres away, as the shot would take time to travel there, and a few seconds translate to several kilometres when you're using the clock to navigate. That's where the phrase "keep your eye on the ball" comes from, in fact. The shot rang out with ear-piercing intensity - the little girl who had volunteered to press the button could barely contain her delight!
The Maritime museum was the next building round the coast and my cousin Jabez had given the Sydney one the thumbs up, so I had to go. I got straight on the submarine tour, which was full of fascinating stories about the dead man's bunk (right by the battery vents, where a malfunction would poison that man in 30 seconds) and Frankie breaking into the grog cabinet (only he knew that the bolt with the padlock on it was the only one that unscrewed, and betting $50 with each new crew member that he could get them a beer made him a fortune). If you go, ask for Ron's tour - he's a Scottish ex pilot who strays from the prepared script and has a chip on his shoulder about the management, but he knows his boat.
The museum itself is ok if you have an interest in that area, and there are improvements and renovations going on to improve it. It's an inexpensive way to pass a few hours but not worth the journey on its own. With the sub tour though, I felt I'd had my money's worth!
The voyage out to Rottnest left me checked into a hostel and on a beach alone waiting for the sun to set. I strode out to the island's one settlement as the last of the light was leaving and then a moment of panic when I thought I'd lost my keys turned into twenty minutes of panic when I realised that I had lost them. I didn't want to be stranded here with no bike and no access to my room! So I hurried back along the beach in the fast fading light, swearing to myself and scanning the sand for the red tag on my key. Five minutes more and the rising tide would have swept them into the Indian Ocean, but I found them, and calmed down a bit.
The Quokka Arms Hotel was the only place still open, so a burger and a pint of Swan Draught (the local brew) served as dinner. The quokkas wanted their share though, and wouldn't leave me alone once the food arrived. Again, photos later! For the uninitiated, they're the reason the island is called Rottnest (literally "Rat's Nest" in Dutch). They're small, furry marsupials, something like a cross between a wallaby and a beaver.
10th September Waking up, I chatted to the French surfer in the bunk next to mine. He'd been in Australia one day, and was looking forward to getting out on the water. We watched Sesame Street over breakfast (my choice) and I jumped on my bike.
The island is surrounded first by sandy beaches and rocky outcrops, and secondly by a rock ledge just below the water. It's a paradise for scuba divers and swimmers alike (and a little dangerous for surfers, but they're hardcore and don't care). All in all I must have seen 20 coves and bays that ordinarily I'd have walked over broken glass to swim from, but here I was spoilt for choice. I rode the length of the island and at the farthest point saw two galahs on a handrail. I got a couple of good photos and then they flew away. "Damn," said someone behind me "I'd just got my camera ready." Well I'll email you this one? I said. She laughed, and I said "No, really, what's your address?" We chated for a while and I discovered she was there to show her daughter where she had scattered her late husband's ashes. He had fished from Rottnest Island for forty years, she said. I told her a bit about myself, and her friend said "Pity my daughter isn't here, she's a beautiful girl". I laughed and said something about being spoken for.
The lighthouse was a treat too, though the ride up to it makes it well earned. Many of the roadside verges contained lizards and snakes (the latter of which I gave a wide berth) and pelicans and wading birds cover most of the rocks on the edges of the island. Eventually I did settle on a beach and dip in the water, with not a soul in sight and beautiful clear water in front of me. Half an hour later, though, I headed back to the main settlement for the ferry. Somewhere between tying up my bike and getting the ferry, I lost my bike lock key - this time, seemingly for good! I explained to the guy at the desk back in Fremantle and he said "We'll call and let you know what we had to do, and how much deposit you'll get back". Which is fair enough. Before I left I told the lady at the visitor centre it was a shame it was so remote from Sydney or London, or I'd be back again. She said "You'll come back anyway, everyone does, it's something in the water". I think that sinister prophecy might well be right, if just to find a beach more perfect than the one I settled on this time.
11th September I think it'll be mostly spent in the hostel. My tour leaves on Wednesday morning, very early!
Ok, I know I said I wouldn't write, but I always put those "It'll be quiet things" up when I'm about to update loads... No photos til I get back though, and they're the best bit, right?
30th July We flew into Perth late on 29th July, and Elissa had been at work all day, so she was understandably prety tired. I went to secure food for the both of us, and we slept like babies in the nice hotel we'd booked on Wellington Street. In the morning I woke up, keen to use the hotel's facilities. To my surprise, and Elissa's initial disbelief, I managed to rack up 100 lengths of the hotel's 10m swimming pool, though I felt it later. A guy working for the hotel said "Do you want the sauna switching on?" and I was all for it. He told me it was an electric one though, and I wasn't to throw water on it. Some of the guests do, even though there's a big sign on it, and they risk electrocution (sauna heaters run on ridiculously high ampage, which makes it very dangerous). I asked him if he'd ever lost any guests, and he said "Unfortunately not - those are the guests we'd like to lose".
Down by the river, we were lucky enough to see dolphins herding fish - fetching their lunch, which was shared by opportunist pelicans and cormorants. This is something I haven't seen again since, in the week I've spent here, and I keep checking. At one point they were only 30m from the shore, easily visible and audible. That was a real privilege.
Kings Park was as beautiful as everyone says. One particularly beautiful bit was the view from the top of Jacobs Ladder. A hell of a climb, for someone as out of shape as me, but well worth it. Elissa spotted Kevin Rudd (Australian Opposition Leader and strip club frequenter, for the uninitiated) recording a commercial in the park, looking very orange; presumably makeup for the cameras. The wildlife in the park was incredible too, all kinds of birds, some lizards and some beautiful plants. It's a day's entertainment in itself.
We rushed back into town and grabbed a bite to eat and jumped into the cab to the airport. The driver confirmed, yes we were lucky to see dolphins in Perth. Then we flew to Singapore (which I'll cover in a separate post).
5th September We arrived late again on 4th September, and went for dinner in a well priced and suitably dingy bar. The music was excellent, mostly, and the food was plentiful and very affordable. Elissa drank a Smurf (not sure what was in it, but it was blue-green and milky) and swore never to do so again. The hotel room was beautiful, soft, enormous bed, big TV, spa, all the things you hope for when you book. Breakfast was included so we woke up just in time and made the most of that. Elissa made some enquiries about Rottnest Island, but it seemed the only way to see it was overnight, and we'd booked the hotel that night, and Elissa was due to leave the next day. We settled on taking the ferry down to Fremantle. When we got there we had some excellent Gozleme in one of the cafe areas, and headed to the markets, to discover they ran Friday to Sunday. It was Wednesday.
Pottering round Fremantle was nice enough, but Elissa and I eventually agreed a beach was in order, so we jumped on the train to Cottesloe, and walked out to the beach. We joked about the golfers on the course by the coast, and applauded one somewhat unsuccessful player for not swearing more (quietly of course) and to my surprise, Elissa suggested we grab a few drinks. Normally if there's a suggestion of drinking, it's from me. We sat at a bar by the beach waiting for the sun to set and drinking a few beverages on the outside area. Unfortunately the sun wasn't setting nearly fast enough for either of us, so we caught a bus back to town, and made our way back to the hotel.
6th September We woke for breakfast, just in time again, and headed down to James Street for a few games of pool. Elissa and I have a running tournament for every new location, (which she will insist she's winning - I think it's a draw by now) and so the Western Australia round had to be played. Naturally it would be ungentlemanly of me to say anything about the result...
Elissa got herself a massage and I went to investigate a new camera in town. We made our way to the airport shortly afterwards, and said some emotional goodbyes over a drink in the airport bar. Needless to say, I'll miss my closest friend on this side of the world for the next few weeks while I'm travelling, and there's already been a lot I've seen that I'd like to have shared with her, but I'm sure the next four weeks will fly by, and I'm looking forward to being in Sydney again, with lots of stories to tell.
The next part of the Perth story is about the rougher end of travelling - no spas or saunas anymore!
You may have noticed I've been a bit quiet on here recently. I'm actually out of Sydney and around various bits of Australia at the moment, doing travelling for real, rather than the home away from home I had in Sydney. It's proving both challenging and rewarding so far, and I'm very excited about the 6 day tour to Alice I have booked for Wednesday, and the prospect of the National Parks around Darwin. I'll be back in Sydney and writing about James Morrison at the Basement, Alec and Michelle's wedding and Elissa and my trip to Singapore, and all of the WA and NT stuff, from 4th October, so if you're checking back more than once a month, probably best not to bother til then.... Thanks for reading!
We left the chalet at about 11am, and headed back south, through Ballina, Coffs Harbour, past Port Macquarie, to Taree, where we spent the night. We ate in the local pub and found ourselves a room for the night. The following morning we headed out to Old Bar, where Elissa's aunt used to live. There were mud flats and beaches along there that would have been perfect for camping, and I think we'll be stopping there on the way up the coast in December. I wandered across the mudflat, as the water only got to knee level. It was beautifully clear and full of fish and shellfish.
On the drive to Saltwater, just up the coast, we saw a bird of prey perched on an old dead tree. We're still not sure what it is, but it's very pretty. I'm still amazed at the creatures you can see in the wild in Australia - Ben's chasing a kangaroo and spilling his wine, the koala in the tree by the Great Ocean Road, possums on the phone wires in Melbourne, thousands of fruit bats all over Sydney every evening. I can't wait to see what else there is in NT, Tasmania, WA and Queensland.
We hung out on the beach for lunch at Seals Rocks. There was beautiful clear water and a whole bay without any people. A gentle breeze on the hill we sat on over the bay provided good lift for the seagulls who thought they might be able to share our lunch. I made it as clear as possible that they weren't that lucky.
Then we drove down to Hawks Nest to pop in and see Elissa's parents. They provided much-needed coffee, and we headed back into Sydney, exhausted but content, and with lots of happy memories from an excellent long weekend.
We got up, breakfasted ourselves hard, and then headed out to Byron. We sat on the beach, trying to shoo seagulls away and enjoying the sunshine, then grabbed a lunch of burrito for Elissa and sausage and chips for me. At about 4pm we made it to the festival in time for Midnight Juggernauts, a dancy Aussie group, kind of in the vein of Hot Chip. We tried to get in to see Gotye, but he'd been put in the third stage, and there just wasn't room for everyone who wanted to get in there. Everyone had been saying how well organised the festival was, until this one, but other than that they'd done a good job. And we'd seen Gotye at the Metro a week before, so we hit the nearby bar.
We emerged again in time for Josh Pyke (who had the same problem with overcrowding) but he wasn't much cop so we headed back to the other stages, and caught up with a friend of Elissa's. He'd managed to get in by highly suspicious means, as had his friends. We learned later that it had been the worst year for fence jumping in the festival's history. The lot of us went to see Hoodoo Gurus, who were a good old fashioned rock band, and one of Elissa's surprise acts of the weekend. I wasn't overly impressed, but they did the job. Eager to see Bloc Party, I stayed where I was, as the others went to see Cut Copy on the other stage. But by about halfway through Bloc Party's set they'd played everything I wanted to hear, and the pressure from the crowd was pretty crazy, so I went to join Elissa and her friends for the start of Hilltop Hoods, an Aussie hip-hop group. Hip-hop's mot my thing, but the atmopshere in the crowd was great. After about 20 mins I headed over the catch Arctic Monkey's festival-closing set. They're still not my favourite band, but there's some catchy tunes in there, and it was a diverting hour and a quarter.
Elissa and I managed to meet up and ead back to the chalet. About halfway back we spotted Candice and Jo, and we all walked back together, grabbed a glass or two of wine and slept like babies! A good time was definitely had by all!
Waking up on the Saturday morning, breakfast was foremost in our minds, and Elissa and I headed to Woolworths to pick up everything. And it really was everything; bacon, sausages, beans, eggs, bread, mushrooms, tomatoes, ham, cheese, croissants, butter, icecream, potatoes, apple juice, milk. When we got back we cooked a breakfast fit for a king. Well, four kings, really. We didn't plan to be hungry for the day.
We set off walking to the festival, which was about 2km outside town. When we got there we ran right into the back of an hour-long queue of about 4,000 people, presumably all trying to get in to see Editors, who were the next act on the main stage. We made friends with a guy from Brisbane, and chatted, and bounced a beach ball around, and eventually got our wristbands and got in, in good time to catch Editors' set. They were great fun, and had apparently just come from setting Glastonbury, metaphorically, on fire. I'd not be surprised to see them headlining festivals the world over in a few years.
Wandering round the festival we could see the place was packed out, but there was a great atmosphere, everyone having the time of their lives, and looking forward to some excellent music. We went to the Save-A-Mate stall, as some friends of Elissa's were running the show there, and we grabbed some drink tickets too. Grabbing a couple of beverages we went to see Ash. They are now a three piece again, Charlotte Hatherley having disappeared again. I've just seen them on TV in an interview from Splendour and they say that Charlotte doesn't miss herself in their shows. I sgree, they sounded great, and I've been expecting Ash to sound tired for some time. Hell, they did sound tired at Glastonbury in 2004. Nothing world-changing, but some songs we all knew (including Kermit) and an appreciative crowd.
We watched The Cat Empire from much further forward, but shortly after they started, the bathroom called, so I headed off, leaving Elissa to get some great photos. The Cat Empire is one of Elissa's favourite bands, so she was having a fabulous time. We met up afterwards and wandered round some of the stalls, and got Elissa a blanket, but by the time the Kaiser Chiefs started, we disappeared back to the chalet. On top of the drive up, it had been a long day, and we weren't big Kaiser or Powderfinger fans anyway. We had a couple of drinks and headed to bed, ready for a big day on Sunday.
Byron Bay is about two hours by plane, or about 12 hours by car, from Sydney. The cost in fuel and accomodation for one night and the cost in airfares is roughly equivalent. The view from the car, though, is far superior to the view from the plane, and the New South Wales coast is pretty quiet in the winter, so we drove up and enjoyed a couple of beaches on the way almost completely to ourselves.
We left on Thursday morning, and pulled up in Hawks Nest at about 2pm, at Elissa's parents house. Colin introduced me to his Old Grey Whistle Test DVDs and Vivienne put on the lamb roast, apologising several times for having slightly overcooked the lamb last time. The lamb last time was beautiful, for the record. Elissa and I headed to the beach and flew the kite a little bit, and we came back and ate, and played Rummikub for an hour or two, with more than a couple of remarks about turning tiles over and using them as blanks (as that had been a strategy by one of the players in the scrabble game last time!).
The following morning we headed out at 9am, and struck out for Coffs Harbour, and the Big Banana. The Big Banana is the first Big Thing in Australia, and is one of many, including The Big Merino, which we saw on our Melbourne road trip, and the Big Prawn, just up the road to Byron, at Ballina. My favourite is definitely the merino so far. The Big Banana was pretty tiny, and though the smoothies were pretty good, I feel like they could have done better. While we were there, some people on the next table were having a meeting about door to door sales, but we didn't establish what brand. It made our skin crawl to listen to their team leader, so we left and pressed on.
The next stop was on Harwood Island! We drove past a sign that said "All of Harwood has 50km/h streets" and Elissa asked, do you want to stop and take some photos? I said no, and then thought for a few seconds and said yes... So we went to the pub, picked up a stubby holder and a lighter, and took photos by the school and the sugar refinery. If it wasn't a tiny little country town with less going on in it than in Corby Glen, I'd probably consider trying to retire here.
From there, we headed up to Ballina, and the Big Prawn. There's not much to see here, so we pulled into the car park and took a photo and then pressed on. Byron Bay was only another 40km on or so, so we were excited to get there! We got into Byron at about 5.30pm and got ourselves a pie, and headed to the hostel. The traffic wasn't all that bad, but the town was packed with crazy hippies and music fans, and there were guitars and drums being strummed and beaten all over town.
We met Candice and Jo, who would be our housemates for the weekend, and were shown the chalet we'd booked for the weekend. Jaws most definitely dropped. The place was incredible! A full kitchen, a spacious lounge, a lovely bathroom, a balcony in front of the chalet with a really comfortable daybed and a table and chairs we used for breakfast. We were impressed. And Candice and Jo had got both colours of wine ready for our arrival, so we knew we'd get on well.
Today, I got some tickets to see The Police. I've been playing Roxanne badly at parties for more than a decade, and I've waited to see a Sting tour I might be able to catch for several years now. And I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to see the three of them in the same place, playing the songs they last played before I even knew what an electric guitar was. I'm almost ashamed of how excited I am about this show. And it's three days after my birthday too.
On Saturday we went to see Gotye, doing what looked like a warmup show for this weekend. He's a very earnest singer-songwriter-drummer chap who does funky electronic stuff, and he puts on a good show. There were some lovely moments where a guy next to us tried to sing along in the same octave, and sounded really bad for the high notes. A few minutes later he said to his companion "He's a good singer, isn't he?". And he is.
This weekend we're off to Splendour in the Grass in Byron Bay, one of the most eagerly followed festivals on the Australian calendar. Highlights include Lily Allen (sadly) Powderfinger, Damien Rice, Bloc Party, Artic Monkeys, The Cat Empire and Hot Chip. Should be good. We're staying somewhere very cool too.
A couple of days after The Police is Big Day Out in Sydney. It'll have lots of international names, lots of rock, lots of singing and hanging out in the park. But it's still all about that eighties band I'm seeing just before that. Woohoo!
It works! And it's a danger to me and to other people! but a few design changes should fix that. By the time the next one comes down, it will be well out of sight, and may have gone out with any luck. Watch this space!
Last night we saw Il Trovatore. Babies on fires, inappropriate nudity, and everyone dies at the end - that's what an opera should be like. Lots of threatening to kill people, at least one poisoning, pop-up nuns hiding in a slowly advancing wall, hatred and jealousy simmering for two decades between two people who turn out to be brothers, lust, abuse of power, revenge, insanity. The Anvil Chorus was a cracker too. The singers and orchestra were, if anything, tighter and more polished than the previous evening. If only I hadn't been so tired, it would have been a really incredible evening - as it was it was still pretty special. I think we got the two operas the wrong way round, on reflection, but I definitely don't regret seeing either.
Sydney Opera House is, unsurprisingly, a fantastic place to see fantastic opera, as well as all the other excellent shows I've been fortunate enough to see.
Last Thursday I went to see James Morrison. Not the British singer-songwriter (who I always took as being a bit polished and pop, perhaps unfairly) but the Australian jazz trumpet legend. He and Ambre Hammond, a pianist of high standing, were playing a double symphony written specially for them, by Lalo Schifrin, a world-renowned composer, conductor, pianist, but who is perhaps best known for the theme to Mission:Impossible! Before the symphony we were treated to the Australian debut of two suites of Schifrin's orchestral music, played by the Sydney symphony, all excellent stuff (though as someone with a limited experience of orchestral music I don't have much to say on it). Then the soloists came out, and showed some incredible skills on their instruments, and the music was at times energetic and compelling, at times gentle and emotional, and swung from the classical to the jazz to, well, all sorts of stuff. Again, it was great to see people perform who are really, really good at what they do. But my favourite bit was the encores.
James Morrison and Ambre Hammond came back on to play an unaccompanied version of Basin Street Blues. Morrison played part of the theme with one finger, towards the end, and Hammond played a jazz improv-style solo, interspersed with some big Romantic piano chord runs. As if that wasn't enough, Morrison and Schifrin came on afterwards and played Theme from Mission:Impossible to us, Schifrin on the piano (a little shaky and out of time but pretty solid for a 75 year old) and Morrison playing the melody on the trumpet. The orchestra seemed pretty ready for it.
Last night, Elissa managed to arrange for us to see The Barber of Seville, through her network of contacts. This was my first Opera at arguably the world's most famous Opera House, so I was really looking forward to it. We dropped into City Extra for a bite to eat and headed up to pick up our tickets, both for that evening and for tonight's trip to Il Trovatore. Sitting down in the Circle we saw the set, an impressive, colourful, almost garish affair (Elissa said it was very Gaudi-esque, and I agree), with a few folk already wandering around it, keeping the gathering audience entertained. The orchestra fired up and the whole show began. By the time the interval arrived, we were already pretty blown away, and I'd remembered how much I enjoyed the last opera I actually paid attention to (I tend to go to open air screenings with a bottle of wine, and ignore everything but the last act). Figaro was played magnificently, and the whole cast were very impressive - not only singing impeccably but looking like they were enjoying it. There's a moment where one of the characters was playing piano for another's music lesson (I won't ruin the plot, but it's several hundred years old, so if you haven't seen it by now...) and he plays the first note on a piano onstage. The orchestra strikes up and the singer/actor looks confused and glances under the piano. Several moments where the Doctor impersonates his daughter's whining tone by adopting her range, falsetto. That sort of thing. It was all so fluid, you barely noticed they were singing in a language that I, certainly, didn't understand a word of.
I sometimes get a bit snobby with things like this being dumbed down. I think it's possible, though, to keep something as serious as it should be, as polished and as slick as it should be, and inject some fun into it. This was one of the times when it added something to the show, rather than taking it away. I had an incredible time. I can't wait to see what they come up with this evening.
We had another go at the Sky Lantern thing last night, with mixed success. Well, no success really. The 140l bags were a massive improvement on the 36l ones we'd used previously. The frame we used would, in principle, be liftable by that sort of volume of hot air, but could be lighter - lighter is always better. At one point I got brave and let go to see what would happen. The thing went sideways for a bit, but never really went upwards. I'm hoping that the next time there's a flat calm we can give it another go with a bit more success, but I'm keeping an eye out for alternative frame materials in the meantime. Here's a few photos.
This evening I tried two forms of aviation. When I went out to fly the kite earlier there was no wind, but there had been a low-wind activity I was looking to try for a few days, so I gave Elissa a call. "Let's go down to the beach and make sky-lanterns!" I said. "You're on" she answered.
So we did. And the bin liners I'd chosen were worse than useless, so it didn't work, but the results were very pretty anyway, and I'm having another go next week.
Following the major piping festival that is Bundanoon Is Brigadoon (which I sadly missed) Ben took us to Aberdeen for the highland games for the weekend. We drove to a cottage in a small fishing resort just outside Aberdeen, which took about 5 hours (a short trip by Australian standards). We pulled out wine and whisky and chatted til bedtime, pretty early as the Saturday was a busy day.
Ben was up at 7.30, and Elissa and I left the house at 9ish, ready to watch the opening parade. It was great to hear the pipe bands coming down the road, and the games were impressive too. Five guys tried to lift the five stones onto the barrels, including one at 165kg, but five guys only managed the four stones. That last one is a killer for most people I think, even the pros. We watched the tug of war, with a pretty dodgy Army side (all their best rope-tuggers are in Iraq). And the three legged race was an open affair. So Ben and I entered. Here's how I remember it.
To our left were two pipers. To our right, two children. We'd been rehearsing beforehand, so not only were we honed and ready, but we'd put the fear into our opponents. When the whistle went, the pipers took off at tremendous speed, and we and they left the kids for dead. Ben and I were having none of this, so we picked up the pace and at the line, we'd just caught them. Our leg tie snapped at the last moment, but the tie fell just over the line, so it was called a dead heat. We'd won! And we were handed $10 to prove it!
The ceilidh in the evening was a splendid affair, frequented by Dawn Fraser (who I hadn't heard of but who is something of a national treasure apparently), and with excellent food, music and dancing. Breakfast on the barbecue the following morning was a perfect end to the weekend, and we drove back to Sydney exhausted but satisfied. Elissa even managed to pick up some olive soap, so she can now wash in her favourite foodstuff!
...one hump, two eyes made of ping pong balls, with fleece eyelids, two makeshift ears added at the last minute, a set of reins made of wool, tiny tiny nostrils, Kermit's mouth, four legs with little hooves, a blanket-saddle thingy. And I'm very pleased to share the results with you here.
Kermit was a birthday present for Elissa, who is a big Muppets fan. But when Kermit was being passed around in the pub on Elissa's birthday, someone mentioned how much her colleague hated the song about Alice the Camel (being called Alys herself), so it didn't take them long to demand a camel puppet. It did, however, take about three weeks to get round to making the puppet. I'm hoping Elissa will take the camel into work tomorrow and give Alys some stick with it, and I shall pass on any tales of the reaction.
Prototype Kermit came bowling with us yesterday, and there's a lovely shot of him taking a turn, but I can't find it right now. I didn't manage a strike, but there were strikes from everyone else, and some beauties from Ben and Clint, both of whom had a very full-on bowling style. Not so full on as the guy in the next lane though, who had a special glove. I'll keep practicing.
Lots of fun things have been happening recently. I've seen Richard E Grant talking about his life in Swaziland, England and America. Elissa had her birthday, and I was able to unveil the Kermit The Frog I've been working on recently, and the prototype model, which isn't quite as pretty. George had his birthday and we ate a huge amount of food, and I took a photo of my posterior on Sam's camera, just for the hell of it. We played mini-golf and I got a hole in one. In fact, all three of us got holes in one at one stage. I watched England go from a 22-22 draw at 60 minutes to a 55-22 loss, versus South Africa. And tonight I've got the book club's first book-related meeting (we read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon, it's a great book, I thoroughly recommend it. I've been very lucky to be involved in a lot of these things - the food at George's birthday was amazing, and the Richard E Grant thing was surprisingly entertaining - I have a lot more respect for the man now, and I had plenty to start with.
But none of it has felt like it's worth blogging about, cause it all feels like stuff I could do in London. Well, no, not Elissa or George's birthday, nor shows at the Opera House, but the show could have been at the Barbican and the birthdays could have been other birthdays, in themselves... what I'm trying to say is that none of it feels uniquely Australian. Maybe what I'm trying to say is that none of it has involved the beach.
This Saturday (I think it's Saturday) I'm going for a walk with Elissa's family along the coast just north of the harbour. It'll involve sunshine, the Pacific Ocean and the beach. I'll take photos, because my Flickr account is feeling neglected. It should be nice and Australian. Even more than last night's creamy bacon and kangaroo bolognese.
I'll probably post some of the things people said about the book tomorrow too - and anyone whose read it, I'd love to hear what you think.
Out of curiosity, I recently checked Borders on Pitt Street Mall for the Abel & Cole Cookbook. This is a book about cooking local food with the seasons, and is very much aimed at British seasons, British foods (or at least North West Europe foods) and local conditions. So it was a surprise to see it all the way over here, but a pleasant one - HarperCollins are earning their cut!
I'm playing with Blogger settings and trying to make collapsible posts. This means I can talk about films without ruining them. Click on Read More! if you want the film ruined anyway, or if you've already seen them.
Pirates of the Carribean 3: At Worlds End. ....(cont.) More of the same from the popular nautical franchise, as the reviews probably all said. It was too long by about half an hour, but if cutting it had meant taking out Keith Richards' appearances, let it run for an hour or so more, as far as I was concerned. I've been waiting, like many others, a few years now to see the Stones' guitarist make this cameo, so it was great to see it finally happen. He didn't do much, but he didn't need to. Great outfits, outrageously contrived storylines, ridiculous special effects and Johnny Depp camping it up for what must be the final time as Captain Jack Sparrow, made for a fun evening. Afterw
