"I reckon this beetroot looks a bit dodgy...."

"No worries, mate! We'll have bush tucker for brekkie."

"Good on ya!"

For those who have expressed concern that I might talk like this when I get
home, don't worry. I won't.

Adelaide has turned out to be a dud. Spent my first night at a hostel in
the city. The pub downstairs was dead after dinner, so I took a walk around
downtown and couldn't find a single damn place to have a drink or socialize.
It seemed like a ghost town. And it was damn cold.

The next night, I decided to give Glenelg, a beach suburb known for its
backpacker lifestyle, a shot. So I hopped onto the 1920s-style tram and
rode it to the end of the line. I checked into my hostel, Albert Hall (no
relation to the Atlanta Braves outfielder of the mid-80s). It's a mansion
on the beach renovated and rebuilt into a youth hostel. Pretty decent
place. The owner had an awesome orange and white cat who lived in the
hostel with all of the backpackers. He slept on my lap. Sylvester never
sleeps on my lap.

The next day I walked around Glenelg. Amazing how many people down here
walk around with cellular phones. I see a lot of people walking around with
cords dangling down from their ears and microphones resting on their chests.
It looks like they're talking to themselves as they walk down the street but
I think they're on the phone. I decided to treat myself to some CDs. I
bought U2's latest movie music and a dance music compilation set. Down
here, they open up all the cases and store the CDs in the back room so
nobody steals them. When you want a CD, you bring the empty case to the
counter and they give you the CD. That got me in the shopping mood, so I
asked where the nearest shopping center was. The guy standing next to me at
the counter offered to give me a lift. His name was Rex, and he seemed like
a nice enough guy. How could I refuse. At the shopping center in Marion, I
bought Boney M 2000, cool dance stuff they used to play a lot at the
Woolshed in Cairns.

Early the next morning, I took a ferry out to Kangaroo Island, a minimally
commercialized nature reserve just off the coast of Adelaide. It was
freezing outside, but the nature tour was still good. I finally saw my
first koala in the wild. Along a dirt road, there was a line of eucalyptus
and pine trees, and we spotted a zillion koalas high in the trees. On one
particularly low branch, two koalas sat next to each other, smiling and
looking at me. They really are darn cute. They're so small and cuddly that
they almost look like they're animatronic and fake. Also learned quite a
bit about the differences between sea lions and seals. Anyone except Liam
or Laurie want to give it a shot? Saw lots of sea lions, seals, wallabies,
pelicans, and lots of cool rocks.

The only complaint I had was the food. When I booked the tour, they asked
me if I was a vegetarian. Not sure why since they served entirely
vegetarian food both days. And not even good vegetarian food. The first
night, after our idiot driver told us that he had lost the potatoes, we had
some concoction that looked like horse vomit, made with beans, corn, and
onions, on top of rice. The next night, we had the same thing on top of
spaghetti.

I pretty much got along with everyone. But then there was Gary, an older,
balding English guy who talked and acted like he was five years old.
There's always one schmuck on every tour.

The night I got back from Kangaroo Island, I decided to check out the night
life around Glenelg. Couldn't do much 'cuz I was wearing sandals, and all my
other shoes were locked up in storage. So I just walked around in the cold.
Pretty boring place.

I had one more day to kill in between buses, so I decided to give my
brother's friend Michael a call. My brother Laurie is a real WarBirds
freak. He gets online and pretends he's flying WWII planes with other
online geeks all around the world. And Michael, one of his Warbirds
buddies, lives in Adelaide. So I gave him a call. He offered a few free
meals and a bed for the night.

Early the next morning, Michael and his cute four-year-old boy Kean came to
pick me up in Glenelg. We went back to his house to have a yummy breakfast
and meet his wife Nora. I also met Andrew, a local university student who
was staying with them. The guy is majoring in mathematics, physics, and
nanotechnology.

After we ate, we hopped into Michael's Holden Rodeo 2800 Turbo and took a
trip through the Vermont-ish hills around his neighborhood and up to Mt.
Lofty for a scenic view of Adelaide. Then we left the city and drove out
into the surrounding grassland. Michael had some botanical surveying to
take care of, and Kean and I just came along for the ride. It was a perfect
day. Clear sky, warm sun, cool, dry breeze.

Michael and I had a good talk. First, we talked about his WarBirds
obsession a little bit, then about war movies. I asked him what he thought
of "Saving Private Ryan", and he shook his head and grumbled a bit. He then
proceeded to give me a list of the film's technical inaccuracies. To me,
the film was entirely believable and captivating. To him, it was a poorly
done hack job.

He asked me about my travels, and I tried to explain how tired all of it has
made me. He had an interesting take on it. He suggested that perhaps I'm
so tired not because of the physical stresses of travelling, but because
there is so much learning and decision-making everywhere I go that I wear
myself out thinking about things so much. Never realized it, but he's
definitely right. Every time I arrive somewhere knew, I have to stress out
over finding a place to stay and keeping my stuff secure. Then I stress out
some more meeting new people, explaining myself and going through the same
canned introductions ("What's your name? Where are you from? How long have
you been travelling? Where have you been? Where are you going?") with
every stranger I meet. How nice it would be to wake up and not worry about
paying for the next night, booking a bus, or about the security of my stuff.
And how nice it would be to spend the day with my friends back home who
already know everything about me.

I *am* getting tired, and I am for the first time wondering if I'll even be
able to last six weeks in New Zealand. But I keep pushing myself, because I
know that this will probably be the only time I'll be able to get down here.
And I want to make the most of it. Perth and Tasmania beckon.

On the way home, we stopped at a bottle shop to get a few drinks. Michael
cracked open a beer as we were driving home. This took me by surprise, but
apparently it's perfectly legal. You can drink and drive, you just can't be
drunk. We went to Chinatown for dinner, then back home and off to bed on
one of Michael's fold-out mattresses.

Packing up the next morning, I discovered that my Boney M 2000 CD case had
the wrong CD in it. Bastards. Andrew said he would take care of it for me.
I carried my bags to the train station and thanked Michael for having me.
He gave me a map and said goodbye. It was certainly nice to take a break
from the backpacker scene.

I arrived at the bus depot just in time to catch the Oz bus. Good thing,
'cuz I was ready to leave Adelaide. Not sure why Adelaide was such a dud.
Maybe it's because it's no longer backpacker season. Maybe it's because it's cold.
Either way, I crown Adelaide the Most Boring City in the Southern Hemisphere.
And everybody knows that Katy, that little jewel of southeast Texas, has already
won the prize for the northern hemisphere.

I'm starting to get sick of all the bus rides. These smaller buses aren't
comfortable enough to sleep in and they don't seem to have any shocks or
suspension, so the rides are very bumpy and noisy. And then we have to stop
every 30 minutes for a toilet break. And inevitably, someone always has to
go.

The guy that nobody liked this time was Lars. First of all, he looked like
he's been dead for years. And he didn't speak much English, so everybody
had to repeat things for him. And it didn't matter what you'd say to him,
all he'd ever say back to you was "OK" or "Pardon?".

We drove all day through cows and sheep grazing on scrub, finally stopping
in Mt. Gambier for the night. It's a small town, and we stayed at the old
gaol (jail). As recently as 15 years ago, they used to hang people in what
is now the laundry room. Cool place, but kind of eerie.

Then off to the Grampians National Park. Lots of beautiful scenery. We
stayed the night at Camp High Spirit, in the heart of the Grampians. We
canoed across a glassy lake to watch the sunset and ate dinner around a
campfire. After dinner, keeping with tradition, a few of us got into the
bush sauna and sweated our asses off, jumped in the freezing lake, got back
in the sauna, jumped in the freezing lake again, covered ourselves with mud
from head to toe, baked in front of the campfire, and scrubbed the dry dirt
off our bodies, revealing beautifully exfoliated skin. The stars in the sky
were incredible, brighter and clearer than anywhere else in Australia.

The next day, we began our tour of the Great Ocean Road, Australia's answer
to the Pacific Coast Highway in California. This one's better. Beautiful
scenery and interesting geology. At one of our cliffside stops, we learned
about the Loch Ard, a British ship which sank just off the coast. Only two
survived, a young boy and a young girl that he swam back for and saved after
hearing her screams. The whole story is pretty exciting. Movie material.

While cruising the Great Ocean Road, I skimmed through a friend's NW
Magazine and was horrified to read that Sarah Michelle Gellar is seriously
dating some doofus actor. She's got a boyfriend. Strangely enough, the
article renewed my interest in acting and aspirations of becoming a movie
star.

We stopped the next night at Cape Otway for some more camping. The next
morning, we stopped at Lorne, a surfing town along the Great Ocean Road. It
was there that I learned that Telstra pay phones don't make change. I made
a stink about it since every damn snack machine gives change, but no one
seemed to care.

We had a few more scenic stops along the Great Ocean Road, and it was at the
Twelve Apostles that my camera broke. I believe an internal spring snapped,
so I don't think it's something I can fix myself. I can still take
pictures, but I have to monkey with it a bit for it to work. We then
stopped at Bells Beach, another surfing spot of Pointbreak fame, and then at
Torquay, a small town with lots of surfing outlets and retail shops. I
bought myself a small Quicksilver and Rip Curl wardrobe.

Finally, we rolled into Melbourne. At first glance, it looked a lot like
Sydney. Your standard urban skyline, drab gray skies. Haven't been here
long enough to make an educated judgment. I have high hopes for this place.

Last night, I had a very realistic dream that the Space Shuttle had launched
from the US and it was coming over Australia. I was standing in downtown
Melbourne with my family watching it, and it started sinking because it
wasn't going fast enough. We watched it crash into downtown Melbourne. I
ran to get my camera and started taking pictures. It was scary.

This morning I confirmed that iced coffee is a laxative.

This afternoon, my roommates all decided to go to the neighborhood where the
TV show "Neighbours" is filmed. It's an Australian show that's made it big
in the UK. I had never heard of it, but I decided to go with them anyway.
They were hoping to find Ramsey St., where the show takes place. We were
on the train for an hour before they admitted that they had no idea where
they were going. We got on a bus and asked our bus driver for some
assistance, and he got off the bus at our stop to help us out and point us
in the right direction. People are so nice here. We walked around a bit
and finally found it. How disappointed I was to learn that Ramsey St. is
Pin Oak Ct. in real life.

Standing in the middle of that suburban neighborhood, I suddenly had a
craving for a Red Rooster Big Boss Value Meal. We walked a mile in every
direction but couldn't find a Red Rooster, so I had to settle for
McDonald's. I had a McChicken Deluxe, which is like a McChicken but with
cheese and tomato.

I've already run into a few old friends here in Melbourne: Tonje, Jane,
Jody, and Lisa from my trip up the east coast. Incidentally, I just got an
email from Janet, one of the girls I stayed with in Sydney and one of the
most independent people I have ever met, saying that she met and got married
to a guy from Beaumont (a town just outside of Houston) and moved back to
Texas with him.

Tomorrow, I call Emily, an Australian friend from my trip up the east coast
who has graciously offered a place to stay while I'm here in Melbourne.

No Regrets.

Jeff