We’re back in Sydney again, and aside from my knee which is worse for wear and the intermittent mozzie bites,we have been having a wonderful time. So wonderful in fact that we stayed there much longer than intended and nearly missed the only bus to Sydney.

The Aussie accent is contagious – I can feel it sneaking up on me and almost irresistibly coaxing my I’s into Oi and E into Eeees and Ehs. Not to mention the fact that I keep finding myself wanting to address everyone as mate and wish them a G’day.

Day One- Wednesday the 15th

We took the bus north from Sydney Central to Port Stephens and used the three and a bit hours journey to sigh at the changing scenery and the beauty of the countryside. The Australian bush remindsus of the smalltown America, except with far fewer firearms, better beer and friendlier locals.

We got to our hostel (Samurai Beach Bungalows) as the sun was dying over the edge of the world and the sky above and through the treetops ablaze with its vanishing fire and promptly fell in love with the place. We were instantly charmed by the lush green vegetation, by the neighbouring koala we could spot and by the brush tailed possum which lived in the roof of our bungalow and came out to eat pieces of apple we offered up. (Although the latter’s charm paled significantly when its amorous gruntings awoke us at 4am).

Since I am a fangirl of both nature and modern conveniences- I was delighted at having electricity and running water AND being able to sit on the porch and feast my eyes on the fierce green of everything and listen to the raucous laughter of the cockaburras (a sound for me unsettlingly reminscent of one of my former Greek housemates from Liverpool).

As we were unpacking Mark (one of the hostel owners; we had decided to find him charming) showed up with an eight-foot diamond-back python (”it’s just a baby”) whose body felt surprisingly warm to the touch (the python’s not Mark’s) and who began to lovingly loop it around my neck which I found disturbing despite Mark’s assertions that “he won’t constrict”.

When the evening cold set in, it was another thing I hadn’t been entirely prepared for – the chill was so bitter that I shievered in bed beneath a duvet and two blankets and compared and contrasted my need to go to the bathroom with the likelihood of hypothermia (as to get to the toilet I would have needed to go outside). And having drifted off to sleep on those happy notes, woke up at 3am discovering that the temperatures were bearable but the need for toilet wasn’t, so I spent disoriented moments stumbling around in the dark looking for the door and then stumbling around outside looking for the bathroom (and finding it wonderfully free of rodentia). Stumbling back from the bathroom waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark and muttering “nice rat, nice snake – let’s just stay out of each other’s ways now” I found my way to the room , located door handle by trial and error as I failed to see anything – including Lynne- crouched in the gloom by the fridge.

And so when she reached out to touch my leg I nearly jumped out of my skin (although all in all, I consider my scream to have been fairly restrained).

Day Two

Our second day dawned bright and lovely; we breakfested on Vegimite on toast, and hand-fed cockaburras (whose beaks are wicked sharp and who look at you with great indignation when you pet them) and I got intimidated by some waddling fowl who looked to me like an evil turkey-goose hybrid but turned out to be a duck (which makes it all the more terryfing in my mind). I spent many hours in terror of this creature who it seemed was bent upon stalking my person, until I realised that I could chase it away if I flapped my towel at it matador-style.

We caught a bus to Port Stephens (a little coastal town, where the Club Scene our guidebook referred to consisted of The Boules Club and the Returning Servicemen Association) and went on a whale and dolphin watching cruise. The whales made themselves scarce that day and did not surface (perhaps chased away by the fighter planes out en masse for training day) but we spotted a few dolphins leaping in and out of the sea and surfing the bow waves). It was bitterly cold (fast becoming a pattern of my days) on board the ship (mainly due to wind chill) and I heaped on as many layers of clothing as possible (including a huge wet weather yellow fishermans jacket the ships crew provided) but shievered in spite of these measures.

The sea was lively and after several hours of leaping up and down on the waves terra firma proved to be more of a challenge than usual.

That evening I finally managed to master the backwards weave with poi, and practised it with delight underneath the eucalyptus trees while cockaburras laughed and koalas slept and grunted and scores of stars came out in the undefinable spaces overhead.

Day Three

Lynne, being an industrious person who likes to sight-see and functions in the morning went off to Shoale Bay and climbed a hill and spotted more interesting wildlife (a lizard, and an iguana) while I spent a blissful time being asleep (and warm) and that afternoon we went sandboarding on a huge dune (some twenty-three miles long)- which arose like a surreal mini-desert. Sand-boarding was fun (bringing back the gay sledding adventures of yore) and I sailed down sand in the trusted method of my bum, while the board did sideways tilts and the occasional pirouette.

It was all marvelous, and loads of invigorating fun (although it was not long before my knee began to hurt and my back threatened me with dire consequences unless I rested) so I just watched Lynne climb up gigantic steep dunes sinking into sand to her knees on the way up and whizzing down on the board, and then we both climbed the dunes and watched the sun set over the sand and on the way back saw an echydna trudge along flanked by birds who heckled it like troublesome attendants.

That night we sat around by the campfire and then went to the beach, (guided thither by our next-door-bungalow-Evangelical-Christian-neighbour without benefit of flash light or a map, except perhaps the pure celestial light of Jesus) and then sinking into sand up to our knees and bumping into trees (to my melodious trills of *Ouch!* *Shit!* *Motherfucker!* ringing through the bush) as we ascended what felt like another giant sand dune on the way to the beach. And then we huddled together and watched shooting stars hurtle on the horizon, through a sky so dark and clear that we could see the Milky Way, (Which was just about the only celestial formation we recognised- even the moon is lopsided here) and a constellation of stars that was
a) The Southern Cross
b) The Little Dipper/Chariot/Bear
c) Something else altogether

and listened to the ocean to the delicate accompaniment of my chattering teeth.

Eventually made way back to bungalows (and inordinate amount of sand followed me home in my shoes as souvenirs) and I thawed gradually and was gratified to find that I could feel my fingers and toes again.

We also discovered mosquitoes in thier droves, which stung us through several layers of protective clothing and did not let up until the following day when we killed them with spray. My love of nature is not unconditional.

Day Four

We took the bus to Shoale Bay and spent some time looking for an acceptable stretch of sand on whcih to sun ourselves and then went for a symbolic swim in the Tasman Sea (pretty; inhospitably cold).

I continued with my experiemnts about minimum amount of sunprotection factor and maximum sun exposure, and then later we caught the bus back and spent another evening by the camp fire (ah, the only night-time so far when i felt warm in Australia) while small things rustled in the bushes and big things rustled and grunted and moved about in the trees.

Day Five

We went on a bike ride, made all the more exhilarating by me not having ridden a bike in ten years, never having been particularly good at it in the first place, and discovering that I had an inability to signal turns without careening and crashing headlong into traffic.

When not staring at the road in furious concentration we saw very gaudy birds and trees with crimson flowers whose petals were long and graceful as dragonfly wings.

We cycled to a small beach we had been on at night the day before the day before, and I sunned myself on the rocks while Lynne went off climbing more hills and ran across a colony of mutant, huge, and very evil ants (not all locals in Australia are friendly).

It rained that night (it was clear by then to me that our clothes we had washed were doomed never to dry) and the day after that we caught the bus back to Sydney.