by David Gourley
Way back in 1968,
Cathy and I, newly-married and barely out of our teens, went out to stay with a
friend in Auckland. We used this as a base for visiting other parts of New
Zealand, including Rotorua, the Waitomo Glow-worm Caves and the South Island,
our tour of which was somewhat marred by bad weather, which prevented us from
going to what should have been the highlight, Milford Sound. We also turned the
trip into something of a round-the-world expedition, travelling out via the
USA, which we crossed by Greyhound Coach, and stopping over in Sydney, and
several Asian capitals, on the way back.
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| Milford Sound |
All very exciting but
- "youth is wasted on the young"! I don't think we really appreciated
what NZ had to offer. Nor was the trip especially well-planned. It might have
been adventurous to have travelled from New York to San Francisco by Greyhound
but unfortunately we did so in more-or-less a straight line. So, no boring old
Grand Canyon for us, rather we had two nights in scintillating Omaha, Nebraska!
(I'm pleased to report that we have since made it to the Grand Canyon, though we
have yet to feel any urge to revisit Omaha.) On the return trip we became
rather travel-weary with so many stopovers: it was a bit like "if it’s
Thursday, it must be Bangkok".
For some time, I have
hankered after going back to New Zealand and seeing it through more mature
eyes, as it were - and getting to see Milford Sound! I had envisaged doing so
at age 60 i.e. on my retirement. It so happened, however, that I took early
retirement four years ago, at the age of 50. So the trip was brought forward.
This time we did not clutter the trip up with too many stopovers. We flew
straight out to Auckland, but added a week in Australia on our way back,
divided between Sydney and the Queensland Coast near Cairns. (We were
admonished by an Australian friend, "New Zealand with Australia as an
add-on: that's the wrong way round!") We had just one other stopover,
which was in Singapore.
This being our
special retirement trip, we did not stint. We flew business class, an
extravagance, maybe, but in my view worth it, especially as I am over six feet
tall and would not have much enjoyed sitting all that time in cramped economy
class. We ended the trip in some style, spending our last night in the
legendary Raffles hotel in Singapore. Lest anyone thinks we are super-rich, I must,
I fear, disabuse them. Some people have a lifestyle that enables them whenever
they wish to travel business, or even first class and stay in the most
prestigious hotels. We were just dipping into that!
We had a refuelling
stop in Los Angeles. Before September 11, we would simply have made our way to
a transit lounge. Now we had to reclaim our luggage and go through immigration,
technically, therefore, entering the USA. This was all rather tedious and,
despite my strong sympathy and support for the Americans following the
monstrous attack on their country, not to mention my concern for my own safety
as an air passenger, I wondered whether it was a bit over the top. Another
result of September 11 was that the cutlery in all classes was plastic, though
later on some compromised by still providing metal forks and spoons.
On the taxi ride from
Auckland Airport to our downtown hotel, we were straight away reminded of home:
we drove through a suburb called Epsom, named, presumably, after our hometown
in Surrey. We booked into our hotel at the unearthly hour of 6.00am and rather
feared that we'd have no accommodation until checking-in time in the afternoon.
We now had our first experience of something we were to experience a lot in the
next three weeks: Kiwi hospitality. Out of our tally of 56 countries visited, I
nominate New Zealand as the friendliest. For no extra charge the cheerful
receptionist gave us our keys there and then.
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| Auckland from Mt Eden |
We did not, though,
go to bed, tempting as this was (even in the comfort of business class, I do
not sleep well on planes). If we did, we thought, we would remain out-of-sync
with the local time, thirteen hours ahead of the UK. So after freshening up, we
set out to explore Auckland. The city had changed enormously since our last
visit. Then it had seemed rather dull and provincial. Now it is a cosmopolitan
and lively city, whose downtown is full of high-rises, including the tallest
building in the Southern Hemisphere, the Sky Tower. Known as the "City of
Sails", Auckland offers some spectacular harbour views.
We had rather felt,
in 1968, that, in coming to New Zealand, we had travelled through time as well
as space. I did not feel that way this time. Much improved communications mean
there is no longer the dependence on infrequent "imports" which were
very much a feature of bygone days, and severely limited what was available in
shops. Eating out has been revolutionised. For lunch, during our previous
visit, there might be sandwiches or a (not very interesting) salad, or, if one
was really lucky, a plate of mince. Now there was enormous variety and we
invariably ate well - too well, in fact, as I put on weight when I should
really be losing it! The "Britishness" of New Zealand, which the
visitor at one time was bound to notice, is fading. Auckland, indeed, is the
world's largest Polynesian city. When Australia becomes a republic - despite
the defeat for the republicans in the referendum not so long go, it is still, I
am sure, a case of "when", not "if" - New Zealand will
almost certainly follow suit. It is true, though, that Christchurch still
boasts of being the most English city outside England whilst Dunedin takes
great pride in its Scottishness.
The next day we awoke
to a pleasant surprise - bright blue skies! I had looked up the Auckland
weather on the internet before our departure and it had looked none too
promising. I rather feared that history would repeat itself and that we would
again be dogged by bad weather. But though our first day had been cloudy, the
rain had held off. We were in fact to have decent weather for most of this
holiday, with just one really grotty day.
We ascended the Sky
Tower for the second time, just to see the view on a fine day. That evening we
went back up again for dinner in the revolving restaurant. In between we went
to what I consider a "must see" if one is visiting Auckland: Kelly
Tarlton's "Underwater World". This was something of a traipse, as it
is some distance from the city centre, but it was well worth it. It is named
after the man who established this very impressive aquarium, ingeniously
fitting it into some disused holding tanks that had once stored stormwater and
sewerage. Sadly he died, though still only middle-aged, soon after it opened in
1985. At least he lived long enough to see it brought to life after a lengthy
gestation period. More recently an "Antarctic Encounter" has been
added. First one steps inside a life-size replica of Captain Scott's hut in
1911, a surprisingly cosy-looking place. Then one moves into "Antarctica"
itself where there are penguins (real ones, that is). The temperature here is
zero degrees Celsius (I usually make a point of sticking to Fahrenheit but 32
degrees doesn't sound so impressive!). Visitors are blissfully unaware of the
cold as they travel round in their heated Snow Cats.
The next day was the
start of a tour that would last nearly two weeks, spent mainly in the South
Island. A surprise was in store for us. A lady from our tour company boarded
our coach and I assumed she would be our courier. But she was only seeing us
off: there was to be no courier, just Mike, our "driver guide".
Invariably we have had on previous tours both a courier and a driver. Mike was
an affable chap who turned out to be very good, a guide who drove rather than
vice versa, much better in fact than some of the couriers we have experienced.
I thought it was a bit much to expect one person to do absolutely everything
and I did occasionally wonder about the safety aspect e.g. when he was driving
down a steep and winding road at the same time giving a lively commentary.
However, he clearly enjoyed being his own man.
We headed south
across the pleasant North Island scenery to Waitomo Caves. We had been
particularly looking forward to revisiting these and were not disappointed:
they are spectacular. We descended to a subterranean lake and boarded a
paddleboat which took us into the glow-worm cave, pitch dark except for
thousands of starry lights clinging to the roof and its stalactites. It is
important that no-one makes a sound, otherwise the glow-worms are liable to go
on strike!
We had two nights in
Rotorua. We remembered scarcely anything of this from our 1968 trip. That
evening we attended a Maori concert, followed by a Hangi, or Maori feast with
the dishes cooked in an earth oven. This is not to be confused with the Hongi,
the traditional nose-to-nose greeting. The Maori people of New Zealand are to
be found mainly in the North Island and Rotorua is the main centre of their
culture. It would be folly to claim that all is perfect but generally the
Maoris and the Pakeha i.e. New Zealanders of European origin, rub along with
each other reasonably well, with a relationship that is based on mutual
respect. The British determined more or less at the outset that the Maoris
should be consulted about the future of their country, hence the Treaty of
Waitangi, signed on behalf of the British Government and by local chiefs on 6
April 1840, which is regarded as New Zealand's founding day. The Treaty is by
no means uncontentious, but the treatment of the indigenous New Zealanders
compares well with that of their Australian counterparts. We were later to
meet, in Queensland, an English chap of about our age and his Aborigine wife.
They were rather down on their luck and he spoke with some bitterness about the
treatment of Aborigines, with a good deal of justice, I fear. We mentioned that
we had been in New Zealand. "Yes", he said, "Things are much
better there, they have the Treaty of Waitangi".
Our sightseeing the
next day included Whaka, which is short for Whakarewarewa, which is,
unbelievably, short for something-else-yet-again. This combines a Maori
cultural centre with a thermal reserve, where one can see boiling mud pools, a
lot of rising steam and, if one is very lucky, Pohutu, an active geyser. We weren't
lucky - but we had seen it in 1968! It reminded me, at least in terms of its
geology, of a country at the opposite side of the globe which we have visited,
Iceland. Both countries are located at the junction of tectonic plates and
offer surreal thermal landscapes. Iceland has the original geyser. We also saw
some kiwis. These are housed in a specially darkened building, designed to
replicate their nocturnal way of life. Sadly they are a threatened species. The
kiwi evolved into a flightless bird as there were, before the coming of man, no
predators: the only mammals were a species of bat. Another flightless bird, the
giant moa, became extinct some 400 years ago. The kiwi is especially threatened
by stoats and weasels, imported into the country as a way of dealing with an
earlier import that had turned into a pest, the rabbit.
The next day saw us
on a long but very enjoyable journey to the country's capital, Wellington, in
the far south of the North Island. Our lunch break was in Taupo, located on the
eponymous lake, New Zealand's largest. Here we saw what is perhaps the world's
strangest golf course. There is just one hole, located on a pontoon some
distance out in the lake. One stands on the shore and tries to get a
hole-in-one. A frogman has the job of retrieving the lost balls. We continued
our journey south along the Desert Road, so called because of the desolate
landscape, though there is too much vegetation for this to count as a real
desert. Mount Ruapehu, an active volcano, could clearly be seen in the
distance.
We stayed overnight
in Wellington. Like all of New Zealand's four main cities - the others are
Auckland, Christchurch and Dunedin - it enjoys a spectacular coastal location,
its size and shape very much determined by the backdrop of steep hills. (The
forthcoming census returns are expected to show, though, that Dunedin has ceded
to Hamilton, an inland town, its status as fourth largest city.) A city tour
the next morning took us first to Victoria Point, from which there is a fine
view over the splendid harbour. The other main highlight was a trip on the
city's cable car, which took us up to the botanical gardens. Our coach
meanwhile drove to the other side of the gardens, giving us a chance to walk
through them. It is a good idea to start from the cable car entrance as the
gardens are built on a steep slope and we were heading downhill! It was
agreeable to have a second chance in 2001 to see spring flowers, including a
magnificent rose garden. Less agreeably, my hay fever, usually suffered only in
April-June, returned! After completion of our tour, Mike drove us to the ferry
terminal, and we departed for the South Island.
Our crossing this
time to the South Island was far more agreeable than on our previous visit in
1968. Then we had travelled overnight, in a cramped cabin, from Wellington to
Lyttelton, the port for Christchurch. This had been on the Maori, sister ship
to the Wahine, which had sunk, Titanic-style, in Wellington Harbour just
a few months before. We had met a woman who had witnessed the disaster. It was
possible, she said, to throw a stone from the quayside and hit the sinking
vessel, yet many had lost their lives. The crossing on this occasion lasted
about three hours, subdivided into three roughly equal parts. First we sailed
out of Wellington's magnificent harbour. Then we crossed the Cook Strait.
Finally we reached the South Island, sailing up the scenic Queen Charlotte
Sound to the port of Picton. From here Mike, our driver-guide, transferred us
to Blenheim, a few miles to the south.
Blenheim itself is of
no great interest. But it is a good base for exploring the vineyards which are
to be found here in the Marlborough Region. In recent years wine exports have
been of growing importance to the economy. They have benefited from changes in
consumer taste back in Britain, with the pronounced shift from French to New
World wines. This is a long way south for vineyards to flourish, yet the
produce is excellent. Vineyards flourish still further south, in Otago
Province, the hinterland of Dunedin. We visited the Montana Vineyard, with
whose products we were already familiar. In the USA the wine has to be marketed
under a different name, Brancott, so people don't think it comes from the State
of that name!
We continued to
Christchurch down the scenic Kaikoura Coast, with its backdrop of mountains.
Christchurch is the largest city in the South Island. We had not seen much of
it in 1968. This time, too, we were to see little of it, as we were staying
just one night before setting off for the rest of our tour. However we were to
have a two night stay here at the end of our tour. And in one respect we did
see a great deal of Christchurch - from our room on the 22nd floor of the
centrally-located Grand Chancellor hotel.
There was just time,
before dinner, to do a five minute walk to the Cathedral, right in the heart of
the city. As might be implied from its name, the city's origins are of a
religious nature, for it was founded in 1850 as a Church of England settlement.
In Cathedral Square we saw a large modern sculpture, which looked a bit like an
ice cream cone though it is actually supposed to resemble the spire of the
Cathedral, turned upside down. Personally I don't think juxtapositions of this
type between the ultra-modern and the traditional work very well. The more
well-known example, which we have also seen, is the glass Pyramid in the
Louvre.
The next day was the
only one on which we had grotty weather. We crossed to the west coast on the
TranzAlpine Express, reputedly one of the most scenic train journeys in the
world. It might well be but visibility was so poor, especially during the
mountainous second half of the journey, that we were in no position to judge.
The first half was better, but this was mostly spent crossing the flat Canterbury
Plain! Our journey finished in the port of Greymouth, a name which seemed
rather apt on this miserable day. From here we transferred by coach for an
overnight stay near the Fox Glacier.
I have remarked
elsewhere on 'Kiwi' hospitality - these are about the friendliest people we
have encountered anywhere. There were, though, the occasional exceptions. One
such was the manager at the hotel where we stayed overnight. Like some managers
elsewhere, he boarded our coach, supposedly to welcome us. Someone was running
a cine-camera. He said he had never been videoed before and I assumed he was
going to make a light-hearted remark. However he went on to say that it was
usual for someone's permission to be asked if they were being videoed. He had
lost it as far as everyone in our party was concerned. Some people, it is true,
go a bit OTT when using their video camera, so much so that one wonders if they
actually ever take in the scenery around them, but I don't think that was the
case now and in any case the remark was uncalled for. It was not a good hotel
and meals were poor. It took so long, the following morning, to produce any
bacon that a lady in our party offered the explanation that "they must be
out killing the pig"!
It was still raining
and an optional helicopter flight onto the Fox Glacier had to be cancelled.
Nevertheless, we went to have a look at the foot of the Glacier. Visibility
here was not bad and we watched an intrepid party of Japanese tourists set out
for a Glacier Walk, seemingly oblivious of the rain. Visibility remained good
as we headed down the west coast then inland through the Haast Pass. The
weather gradually got better too. So much so that when we reached our lunchtime
stop in the scenic lakeside town of Wanaka, there was bright sunshine and we
ate al fresco!
There was more fine
scenery to be enjoyed as we headed for Queenstown, where we were to stay for
the next two nights. This is one of the most beautiful towns in New Zealand,
set on a lake amidst soaring mountains. It is also noted as a centre for
activities. We went into The Station, the place downtown which organises all
manner of activities, and booked a jet-boat trip for the following day.
One of the most
popular of the Queenstown activities is the bungee jump, which was in fact invented
here. One can choose between three jumps of differing heights and, if one is
sixty or more, there is no charge. We still have a few years to go, but I'm not
sure we'd have been tempted even if we had been senior citizens! Mike viewed
bungee jumping with disdain: "bridges are meant for crossing, not jumping
from". That evening we ascended the Skyline Gondola (cable car) to a
restaurant, where we enjoyed a good buffet dinner and superb views over the
town and its lake.
Next morning we
headed out to Glenorchy for the Dart River jet-boat trip. I have managed so far
not to mention Lord of the Rings! It was here in fact that we learnt
about this film, which had still to be released. This had been shot in various
locations in New Zealand, including here in Glenorchy. It has provided
something of a fillip for the tourist industry, suffering like others
throughout the world from September 11. (In Australia there had been the double
whammy of the simultaneous collapse of the domestic airline, Ansett, not all of
whose flights were taken over by other airlines. New Zealand got much of the
blame for this as the airline had been owned by Air New Zealand.) I'm afraid,
though, that we have not been to see the film.
The jet-boat trip,
into breathtaking scenery in the evocatively named Mount Aspiring National
Park, was a wonderful experience. Jet-boats, which were invented in New
Zealand, are ideal for use in shallow and white water, as there are no
propellers to damage and they can be reversed instantly. The boat is driven
simply by directing a jet stream produced by an inboard engine. This is not
daredevil stuff. Our captain did though ask, once we got back to deeper water,
if we'd mind if he did a few spins - I don't think one is meant to say 'no'!
The next day was set aside
for a visit to Milford Sound, a highlight of any visit to New Zealand. The
problem is with getting through the rough-hewn Homer Tunnel, which lies astride
the only road into the Sound. The earlier bad weather had caused me to worry
that history would repeat itself and that we would miss out, as in 1968. Even
as we departed Queenstown, there was some light rain but this soon left off and
another glorious day lay ahead.
We had an early lunch
in Te Anau, to which we were to return for our overnight stay. I had something
of a grudge against this otherwise blameless little town for we had been based
here last time. We had been driven, tantalizingly, right up to the entrance to
the tunnel, then deposited back in Te Anau, with loads of time to kill but nothing
to do with it. It is noted as a walking centre but this is mainly long-distance
hikes, such as the Milford Trail, and there is little of interest in the
immediate vicinity. Another afternoon of reading in our hotel room!
The drive from Te
Anau is actually very scenic. I was keen, though, to get to - and through - the
Tunnel, fearing we were still jinxed! So I almost begrudged the various
photostops which Mike thoughtfully provided. The last of these was by the
entrance to the tunnel, where we were entertained by some kea, alpine parrots
which are unique to this part of the world. These are sometimes described as
the clowns of New Zealand's birdlife, fearlessly hanging around car parks
awaiting tourist handouts.
At last, we were
driving through the tunnel - and were out the other side! Once we reached
Milford Sound we went for a cruise, right out to where it joins the open sea, a
distance of some 15 miles. This was no anti-climax. Milford Sound was how I had
imagined it. The scenery is spectacular. Mitre Peak stands out above all but,
in every direction, there is stunning beauty. We were very lucky, for the
chance of not having rain in Milford Sound is apparently around 1 in 3. We were
even lucky with the wildlife: there was a rare glimpse of penguins and we also
spotted seals and dolphins.
There was the option,
as we started our drive back, of going on a helicopter flight. So many of us
wanted to do this that three flights were necessary. Each one started and
finished from a different place, with the coach meantime driving on to await
the helicopter. The flight was not over the Sound itself, which could be viewed
in the distance. Rather it took us over spectacular scenery to a Glacier, where
we briefly got out. We had been thwarted in our last attempt to visit Milford
Sound but had now, after over thirty years, managed to do so.
Our drive the next
day, to Dunedin, was the same as in 1968. Again the main feature of the
landscape was the countless sheep. There are far, far more sheep than people in
New Zealand though fewer than in 1968 as lamb exports are no longer quite so
important. Hogget sometimes appears on menus. I had initially been baffled
during our first visit - was this some sort of pigmeat? It is actually a
year-old sheep, an intermediate stage between lamb and mutton that somehow we
don't bother with in Britain. We passed through the town of Balclutha, of
significance to us as being the southernmost point in the globe which we have
visited.
Dunedin folk pride
themselves on their Scottish origins. The main thoroughfare is called Princes
Street and the central square is dominated by a statue of Robbie Burns. Dinner
that evening was to be preceded by the ceremony of carving the haggis. The very
name is derived from Edinburgh and the city calls itself the "Edinburgh of
the South". This is a tad presumptuous, I rather feel, for Dunedin,
pleasant city though it is, does not begin to compare, in terms of beauty or
for that matter importance.
There was an optional
tour that afternoon, which took us out onto the Otago Peninsula, signposted
simply as "The Peninsula". The objective was to see albatross and
penguins. Here I might contrast the approach of Mike with the visit of Sally
Branston to the Colca Canyon in Peru (issue 44); she was informed that she
would "see condors" but saw just one, in the far distance. Mike made
no attempt to hype the trip up: "the wildlife is not under contract, you
may see it or you may not". In the event, we were lucky. We boarded a boat
and at first albatrosses were to be seen only on the cliffs, some distance
away. But then one of them obligingly flew right past our boat. Maybe he was
under contract after all! To see the penguins, which were of the rare
yellow-eyed variety, we returned to dry land. We descended into cunningly built
covered trenches, which allow one to see any passing penguins at close
quarters. Again we were lucky, as several of them were returning to their
abodes from a day on the beach.
Our drive the next
day was to Omarama, a fairly nondescript place which serves however as a base
for visits to Mount Cook, New Zealand's highest. We first headed in the
opposite direction, back onto The Peninsula, for a visit to New Zealand's only
castle, Larnach. Then we headed up the coast, pausing in the town of Oamaru.
New Zealand towns, though generally pleasant, are not for the most part
historic or picturesque - it is after all a young country. Oamaru is an
exception, a delightful place around which to wander. There is even an ancient
steam train, which runs through the streets to the harbour. We stopped at a
viewing point close to the town. Here, there was one of those signposts which
show directions to places all over the world including, in this instance,
London, New York, the North and South Poles and - oh yes, of course - Devizes
in Wiltshire!
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| Lupins by Lake Tekapo |
The final leg of our
tour took us back to Christchurch, diverting first to the celebrated Hermitage
Hotel, viewing point for Mount Cook. Another stop was by the shores of scenic
Lake Tekapo, best viewed through the window of the picturesque Church of the
Good Shepherd. Close by is a statue of a collie, a tribute to the sheepdogs who
played a vital role in developing this area. Wild lupins were in abundance
here. These are to be seen quite frequently in the South Island and in the eyes
of the visitor are an attractive addition to the landscape. But locals,
apparently, regard them as something of a nuisance, a weed almost, as they
deprive the soil of nutrients. As we approached Christchurch Mike played a
local version of a song I've not heard for many a year, I'‘ve Been Everywhere
Man ("I've been to Oamaru, Timaru etc etc etc"). We were rather sad
to be ending our tour. It had been a great experience. But a full day in
Christchurch still lay ahead.
We had one full day
in Christchurch before continuing to Australia. This is the largest town in the
South Island, a pleasant city which has a somewhat more relaxed pace of life
than Auckland. It is sometimes described as the most English city outside
England. One can even go punting, Cambridge-style, on the River Avon, which
flows through the centre of the city. I had assumed, amidst all this
Englishness, that this was named from one of the English Avons, maybe the one
that flows through the city's namesake in Dorset (with which it is twinned). So
I was surprised to find that it is named from a river in Scotland!
In the morning we
went on a walking tour, led by a very knowledgeable retired gentleman who
clearly loved showing people around his city. The tour finished in his alma
mater, Christ's College. Here one can indeed believe one is back home. This is
a boy's public school, which reminded me somewhat of Eton, to which I have been
(on a guided tour, I'd better add). I suspect, though, that Eton is a bit more
up-to-date! A huge Union Jack decorated the rear wall of the dining room. By
that I mean the UK flag, not the New Zealand one, which still incorporates the
Union Jack.
In Christchurch, as
in some English cities, trams have made a comeback in recent years. But they
are not at all like the sleek supertrams which travel miles out from the
centres of Sheffield or Croydon. These are vintage trams which trundle around
the central area in a loop and are intended primarily for visitors. Their
friendly crews provide a lively commentary. We used these to get round the city
in the afternoon. We spent much of the time in the large and impressive
Botanical Gardens. The city is noted for its many parks and green spaces.
Next day we flew to
Sydney, where we were to spend three nights. This had been on our itinerary in
1968. On that occasion, as we flew in, we could see that the city was virtually
ringed with fire. That was not the case this time but, barely a month later,
there was another serious outbreak of bushfires, some caused by arsonists, in
one instance a nine-year-old child. Dramatic pictures were to appear in the
papers of smoke reaching even the Harbour Bridge and in total an area
equivalent in size to Greater London was reduced to ashes. But mercifully, and
unlike in 1968, there were no fatalities.
I had not much liked
Sydney in 1968. Indeed I had written in my travelogue that I never wanted to go
there again. For all too many years, chance would have been a fine thing! My
view this time was quite different. We thoroughly enjoyed our stay. This change
of view no doubt reflects changed perspectives on my part. But I am sure it is
true, too, that Sydney has changed for the better. For example the Rocks
District, close to our hotel and right by the Harbour Bridge, was once
down-at-heel but has been extensively restored in recent years and is now
rather chic. A small street there has been renamed, in tongue-in-cheek fashion,
Suez Canal: it was formerly known as Sewer's Canal! It was, of course, the 2000
Olympics which really put Sydney on the map as a world class city. But if the
Olympics did a lot for Sydney, so did Sydney do a lot for the Olympics. After
Atlanta's poor showing in 1996, Sydney showed that the Olympics can after all
be hosted successfully and with style. Athens has a hard act to follow!
One reason, perhaps,
for our negative view of Sydney in 1968 was that we stayed in a rather dowdy
hotel in the King's Cross district. Guide books generally refer to this area as
“cosmopolitan”. Some might substitute the word “seedy”. This time our hotel was
very different. We stayed in the ANA hotel, enjoying from our 22nd floor room
magnificent views across the Harbour taking in the Bridge and the Opera House,
both close by. This is perhaps our best view ever from a hotel bedroom.
One of our gripes is
that very tall hotels, like this one, often insist on having their restaurants
close to the ground, rather than giving diners a magnificent view. Not long
before, in Tallinn, we had headed for a tower block hotel - a Soviet era
building not much liked by the locals - as our guide book said there was a
restaurant on the top floor. The hotel had been privatised and subsequent
changes were, I would guess, mostly for the better. But one change wasn't: the
top floor, to which ordinary visitors could not even gain access, was now set
aside for penthouse suites. The receptionist correctly surmised that we had an
out-of-date guidebook.
We were gratified to
find that the ANA did have a top floor restaurant. That was the good news: the
bad news was that it was Japanese (the hotel is actually Japanese owned - ANA =
All Nippon Airways). I get along fine with most foreign cuisines. Indeed,
sampling different cuisines is for me one of the pleasures of travelling. I am
a bit corny in this respect, making a point of having Wiener Schnitzel in
Vienna, Steak Bordelaise in Bordeaux and Zurich Veal in, er, Basle. But somehow
I don't get on with Japanese. Not liking fish is something of a problem in this
respect. What wasn't fish, I asked. The answer was beef teriyaki or chicken teriyaki.
Oh yes, and shabu shabu. I'd tried this once. It was fascinating to watch it
being prepared, with all the vegetables and so on being cooked at ones table.
Pity it was tasteless! We retreated to the hotel's conventional restaurant,
located, needless to say, on the first floor. Here I had an excellent kangaroo
steak. The waiter asked if I had had kangaroo before. I said that I had, adding
that in England we regard it as an exotic meat. “We call it that as well,” he
responded.
Next day we explored
the Harbourside, naturally doing a cruise as well. We later headed into the
downtown area. If Christchurch offers old-fashioned trams as a way of getting
round the city, Sydney has something that still seems rather futuristic, a
monorail (albeit the best-known monorail, in Wuppertal, is just over a hundred
years old). This too forms a loop round the central area. Having travelled
round this, we ascended the AMP Tower, the tallest building in Australia. To
Sydneysiders' chagrin, it is a few feet short of the Skytower in Auckland. We
ordered room service that evening, complete with candles, so we could feast on
the view as well as in the more literal sense. The meal was good but dessert
had to be chased. It arrived with a complimentary bottle of champagne, to make
amends for the delay.
The next morning we
did the Sydney Harbour Bridge Climb. This was something we could not have done
in '68 for the Climbs have only been going for a few years. They are run by an
enterprising private company who had some difficulty in persuading the
powers-that-be to allow them to go ahead. The authorities apparently came up
with 61 objections, the Company with 61 solutions. They have been very
successful, with groups of climbers leaving every ten minutes - it is advisable
to book ahead.
Around three hours is
needed in total, much of which is for preparation. This could have been tedious
but our bubbly young guide, Kathy, made even this fun. One dons a special
lightweight suit, worn over one’s own clothes. “The hardest part lies ahead”,
Kathy told us as we set off, “For you will now be wearing those in public!”
(There is a short walk along the approach road before one reaches the Bridge
itself.)
The Climb is not
difficult and one doesn't even need a head for heights. To begin with there is
a catwalk, then we ascended four fairly short vertical ladders to the arch of
the Bridge. This provides a gentle climb and is very safe: broad, with railings
either side, to one of which we were fastened. It would be impossible to fall
off, even if one wanted to. Every few minutes, Kathy would stop and point out
the various Sydney landmarks. We could see just how much we were having to miss
because of the shortness of our stay. Some miles to the west, the Olympic
Stadium could be discerned. At the very top the obligatory group photo was
taken. We crossed the Bridge to the other side of the road but then returned to
the south side of the Harbour. So we have been up the Bridge but not actually
over it! Along with the trip to Milford Sound, described in the previous
article, I would rate this the highlight of our 'Down Under' holiday, indeed
one of the highlights of our travels more generally.
With so little time
in Sydney we decided on a city tour as the best way of seeing as much of it as
possible. After lunch we set off, first visiting Mrs Macquaries Chair, in a
scenic location overlooking the Harbour. This is named from the wife of an
early New South Wales Governor, who would sit there and think of her distant
homeland. Then we drove through Paddington. Yes, Sydney has a Paddington as
well as a King's Cross. But they are very different for Paddington is an
elegant and fashionable area: there is some serious wealth in the eastern
suburbs of Sydney.
The weather now
changed for the worse and there was thunder and lighting by the time we reached
Bondi Beach. We were lucky it hadn't been like this in the morning as the
Bridge Climb takes place in all weathers except, obviously enough, electrical
storms. We were supposed to get out here but our driver thought better of it
and we headed up the coast to South Head at the entrance to the Harbour. We
then returned to Bondi Beach. The storm had now finished so we were able to go
down to the Beach. But this was not how one imagines Bondi: dull and overcast,
hardly any people and no sign of any lifeguards. Our drive back to the city
took us through King's Cross, whose symbol is the giant Coca-Cola sign seen on
the hilltop as one approaches from the city centre. I still didn't think it was
lovely.
Our next four
evenings were spent on the Queensland Coast, in Palm Cove, a little to the
north of Cairns. A transfer from the airport to our hotel, the Sebel Reef
House, was included but we could see no sign of anyone to collect us and I even
phoned the hotel. Cathy meantime had located the young lady who was organising
our transfer. She had no form of identification, did not introduce herself and
uttered barely a word to our small party as we drove to our hotel. This
po-faced kind of individual annoys me. If one chooses to work in the travel
industry one should at least try to be friendly and put people at their ease,
even if that does mean putting on an act. Overly garrulous guides can also be
pains in the neck but there is a happy medium. It would surely have cost her
nothing to say “Hi, I'm Marylou (or whatever), welcome to Cairns, we're going
to take about forty minutes...”
Fortunately this
young lady was not typical and just about everyone else we met in Australia, as
in New Zealand, was friendly. Our hotel was a charming place, intended to have
the ambience of the private residence it once was. One helps oneself, for
example, to drinks from the bar, with the hotel relying on one’s honesty to
ensure they are paid for. There were other restaurants in the vicinity, but we
dined each evening in our hotel as the others could not match the al fresco
setting, looking out on the beach with the full moon shining through the palm
trees. We had some pleasant strolls along the beach but it was wise not to go
in the sea, except in a specially roped off section. One was liable, otherwise,
to find oneself up close and personal with some rather disagreeable jellyfish.
There were two “must
sees” here in Cairns. First there was Kuranda, which is located in the nearby
rainforest. The village itself is rather touristy and not worth lingering in,
though there is an interesting butterfly sanctuary. The interest is in getting
there and back. It is usual to use two modes of transport. We travelled out on
the historic Kuranda Scenic Railway which snakes inland from Cairns through the
rainforest. We returned on the Skyrail which opened over a hundred years later,
in 1996. This is a cablecar which glides over the forest, with two intermediate
stops, one to view the Barron Falls, the other at Red Peak, where we went for a
guided walk through the trees along a boardwalk. To avoid ecological damage to
the forest, the pylons were lowered by helicopter.
The other “must see”
is, of course, the Great Barrier Reef. It would be a bit odd in my view to stay
in Cairns and not go there! We sailed from Port Douglas, a few miles up the
coast, to the Outer Reef, a mile or so out to sea. Here we anchored alongside a
floating pontoon, the focal point of the day's activities. Whilst some went
snorkelling, we went for the less strenuous option of two trips on a semi-sub
which is skilfully navigated through the reef, affording magnificent views. For
part of our second trip we were accompanied by a school of dolphins. On our
third and final day in Cairns we enjoyed the luxury of - doing nothing. It had
been a hugely enjoyable holiday but also a very busy one and it was agreeable
just to be able to laze around in the sun.
On our way home, we
stopped over for two nights in Singapore. This involved a change of planes in
Brisbane. To get from the domestic to the international terminal we had to use
the local train service. We could, had time permitted, have stayed on and gone
into the city. Indeed the downtown skyscrapers were visible in the distance. I
suppose I can still claim to have been to Brisbane, sort of.
For our second night,
we had upgraded ourselves to the legendary Raffles Hotel. It did not seem worth
doing so the first night as we were arriving fairly late. We stayed in the
standard hotel offered by our tour company. We transferred across first thing.
I was bristling when we checked in as the receptionist started lecturing us, or
so I thought, about our room not being available until the afternoon. We had
guessed that and merely wanted to leave our luggage. But I soon had to dismount
my high horse: our suite, we were informed (there are no “rooms” as such in
Raffles), was ready for us.
It would have been
very easy to spend the entire day in Raffles, enjoying the ambience of our
suite and of the hotel more generally, without setting foot in the city itself.
Indeed we spent the morning doing just that. Lunch was taken in the poolside
restaurant on the roof; an excellent curry prepared in the kitchens of the
hotel's celebrated Tiffin Room restaurant. But there was hardly anyone else
there. We remarked on this to our waiter. It was all to do with 11 September,
he said. Even here, in a country that is about as safe as any, the number of
visitors had plummeted.
We had never even
considered cancelling our trip. Yet when we had asked a friend of ours how
they'd enjoyed their holiday in Thailand they told us “Oh, of course we didn't
go after all that's happened, we went to Wales instead”! To my mind, cancelling
one’s travel plans is doing just what Osama Bin Laden and his gang want people
to do. Had we been holidaying in the States, we'd have been doubly determined
to go, just to show them two fingers. And of course it is invariably ordinary
folk, waiters and so on who depend on tourism for their livelihood, who suffer
most when visitors stay away.
After lunch we
thought we'd better see something of the city. It seemed a pity not to. As soon
as we set foot outside the hotel, we were offered a guided tour by bike. This
was well worthwhile. Our daughter, who had, a few years earlier, spent a few
days in Singapore during a trip around SE Asia, had warned us that it is
somewhat sanitised. I would rather agree: there is not much of an oriental feel
to the place. With its many skyscrapers much of it could be taken, at first
glance, for the downtown area of a North American city. But we saw on this tour
something of Old Singapore, in particular Little India, which has been declared
a conservation area so cannot now be threatened with the bulldozer.
We strolled down
afterwards to Orchard Road, which I understood to be the place for shopping
(not that I like shopping, unless it be in a bookshop, but Cathy does!) We
fondly imagined there would be elegant boutiques where we could shop, or more
correctly at this point in our travels, window shop. So it was something of a
culture shock to find ourselves in a shopping mall that, Chinese characters
excepted, could have been in any provincial town back home. The main store in
the first one we went into was a Courts. After going into a second one which was
very similar, we retreated to Raffles! We went into the famous Long Bar for a
drink. I confess we just had a Coke. One is supposed to have a Singapore Sling,
a rather unappealing looking vivid pink concoction. But we conformed to the
other tradition here. This is to eat the complimentary peanuts; these are still
in their shells, which one throws onto the floor.
In one respect only
was Raffles something of a disappointment. We decided to go out in style by
eating in Raffles Grill, their fine dining restaurant. I took the precaution
beforehand of enquiring if there was a dress code and was told that jacket and
tie were required. I was happy about this: it is agreeable, very occasionally,
to dress up a bit for dinner. So it was with more than a little annoyance that
I noticed, when we arrived in the restaurant that evening, that other chaps
there were jacketless and open-necked! The ambience was great, but the meal
wasn't, and they were into portion control big time, or should I say small
time. I don't subscribe to the view, beloved of nouvelle cuisine chefs, that
gourmet dining requires meals to be elegantly presented but minuscule in
quantity. One might want a fine dining experience, but the main reason we eat
i.e. to ward off hunger, is still there as well: I am not exactly small and my
appetite is not exactly dainty!
We nevertheless
thoroughly enjoyed Raffles and would certainly recommend it to anyone wishing
to indulge in an extra special treat to themselves - albeit we would add the
advice to dine in the Tiffin Room!
First published in
VISA issues 46-48 (summer, autumn and winter 2002).
