It's a big big rock

Uluru:
Ancient
Monolithic
Sacred

A sandstone remnant of a mountain range long since eroded away.

Red at sunrise and sunset, brown in the afternoon, silvery-grey when it rains.

Standing 348 metres high and measuring 9.4 km in circumference.

9.4 kilometres exactly, actually, and I should know because I walked it.

So, LRD seems to have forgiven me slightly. He's finally climbed out from behind my mountain of Terry Pratchett novels and has slowly inched his way across the living-room floor to my desk. Either all is now well or he's just curious to see the photos.

Sunday morning, after only 3 hours sleep, we rose and drove from Yulara into the Uluru - Kata Tjuta National Park to the sunrise viewing area for Uluru. Just us and a couple of hundred of other people watched the first strikes of sun turn the rock red. Uluru is sacred to the Pitjantjatjara people of the area, who gained land rights over the area in 1985. The land was then leased back to the Government for 99 years and is jointly-managed.





Photo: south-west side of Uluru

After sunrise, we trekked round the base of the monolith (takes about 2 and a half hours) before heading off to Kata Tjuta, otherwise known as the Olgas. Kata Tjuta is Pitjantjajara for "many heads" and its series of large domed rocks do look like many heads. The Olgas are also sacred to the Pitjantjajara people but while Uluru is primarily a tourist attraction, ceremony is still undertaken at Kata Tjuta.

Photo: Inadequate shot of Kata Tjuta.

After finishing our walk into the heart of Kata Tjuta (we were far too tired by now to do the Valley of the Winds walk) we barbecued some lunch and drove back to Alice Springs.

And drove...
and drove...
and stopped for icecream...
and drove...

And when I finally got back to Alice Springs I curled up in my lovely king-sized bed with five pillows and a view of the McDonnell Ranges and I slept.

Great weekend.

PS: Oh, and on Monday I saw the sights of Alice Springs: climbed Anzac Hill and went to some art galleries.

The Lonely Road

So, Little Red Dave refuses to come out from the bookshelf: he’s currently sulking between a copy of My Name is Red and my as-yet-unread copy of War and Peace. (Hey, have you seen the size of that thing? It’s on my to-do list...for the last 10 years). Apparently LRD’s still despondent over the whole Uluru thing and, coming on top of me going to Kakadu without him earlier this year, I think he’s waiting for some sort of grand apologetic gesture. I’ll try to write up my trip without rubbing salt in the wound too much.

I flew down to Alice Springs on Friday and checked into the Comfort Inn Outback, nestled in the McDonnell Ranges. 5am I was up and 6am I was on the road as the sun rose over the surprisingly-green landscape. I had booked a tour with an Adventure Tour company so it was just me, about 10 European tourists, who were all about 12, and two older English women so at least I had someone to talk to. [Yes, Dave, it would have been better if you had been there. I called this post 'The Lonely Road', didn't I? No, don't hide behind the Terry Pratchett novels. I'll never find you again.]

Photo of Alice Springs from Anzac Hill

And we drove....
and drove....
and stopped for a coffee...
and drove...

Kings Canyon is about four hours from Alice Springs but of course, by the time we got ourselves together and stopped for breaks, it took us 6. We grabbed a barbecue lunch and then drove to the canyon itself. The walls of Kings Canyon are over 300 metres high, with Kings Creek at the bottom.

Against my better judgement and possibly against sanity, I decided to do the 3-4 hour Rim walk with the rest of the group...at 1:30 in the afternoon in 37 degree heat. The walk itself is fantastic, if far too hot to be doing in the heat of the day, but the first part of the climb, Heart Attack Hill, is the most challenging. Once the steep ascent was under my belt, the rest was comparatively easy. Afterwards, we stumbled down the mountainside, piled back into the car and drove...and drove...and drove...arriving in Yulara about 9pm. We set up camp, we ate barbecued roadkill and then hit the sack. Literally: I have never been so tired in my life.

Photo: Heart Attack Hill. It's much higher than it looks.

Photo: Lilliput, so named because it looks likes a miniaturised version of the Gorge itself. One can imagine tiny people, just like ourselves, walking through it and looking up at the sheer walls.

Photo: Garden of Eden

Photo: Walls of Kings Canyon

Mea culpa

Dear Little Red Dave

You know I love you, right? I mean, I did dedicate this entire somewhat thematically-confused blog to you, because of my love (and not at all because it gives me an excuse not to publish photos of myself). So I know you won't take it personally that I went to Uluru, the iconic world heritage-listed image that defines Australia for so many, and left you on my bookcase in Darwin.

I know, you'll say there are photos of you at the Great Pyramids of Giza, the leaning tower of Pisa and the Taj Mahal. I can lug you across Europe and Asia but when it comes to my own country, I consistently forget.

I can only hope you accept this apology and stop sulking behind my copy of The Hogfather.

Mea culpa
genfie



PS Here's a photo so you know just what you missed

The Dave Files: Part Something or Other

Apparently there's a rumour that this blog was supposed to be about this "bear" called "Little Red Dave", affectionately known as LRD or even just "Dave". In honour of this, a photo from the Dave Files just to remind us all why we're here.

This photo was taken in the beautifully-restored city of Dubrovnik in 2001, probably about May. After trekking up through Northern Greece, through Macedonia and Kosovo and then moving down through the glorious Montenegro I arrived, broke, in Croatia. Restaurants, ATMS, other tourists, local men looking down on me because I was a poor backpacker and wasn't dressed well enough: all the trappings of modern civilisation again! As I took a taxi from the border through the mountains, the cab driver stopped to give me a wonderful view of the city. I'll also attach this photo, although it doesn't do the view justice. It was taken on an old film camera and then scanned and has lost a lot of resolution in the process.

I absolutely loved Croatia and didn't stay there long enough. Firstly because I had had to leave Montenegro because I ran out of money (yes, I actually went to Dubrovnik just to use the ATM!) and went back there as soon as I'd cashed up, and secondly because I was racing to get to Italy before the peak tourist season. If I'd known that it's always peak tourist season in Italy, I wouldn't have taken the freezing ferry from Split and would have made my way to Zagreb instead. Still, beautiful country. Would love to go back.

My inspiration for post titles is gone

The Wet is here! What happened to the build-up? It just never really happened. I'm disappointed actually. There's nothing better than a steaming day with the pressure building minute by minute until it finally breaks in a spectacular electrical storm. It seems to have gone from the Dry straight to raining. I find it not a little ironic that while Darwin is experiencing so little storm activity, Brisbane is being wiped off the map with its worst storms in like 30 years.

Haven't been moving around too much lately, mostly due to work and Uni. I have finally finished the great all-consuming research project, the popularised version of which is in a post below. I also spent the last two weeks in Nhulunbuy (Gove Pensinsula, north-east Arnhem Land) doing some work at the indigenous community of Yirrikala. It was not the most successful trip but it was great to see a part of the country I would probably not see otherwise. Here's a photo of Nhulunbuy from the lookout, which is on a Yolgnu sacred site nearby.

I also managed a short trip to Galiwinku, an indigenous community on Elcho Island and the home of Gurrumul Yunipingu. They've recently had a festival there complete with the Chooky Dancers, Saltwater Band and Gurrumul. Wish I'd been there to see that.

Wisdom teeth: is there a better argument against intelligent design?

My teeth hurt. I mean, my teeth really hurt. Not only do I have two wisdom teeth floating in my sinus cavity pressing against bundles of nerves, but one is currently engaged in an attempt to move all my other teeth slightly to the right to give itself room. The pain is constant, the pain is grinding and, while the pain is not overly bad at times, its persistance is enough to drive me into a slow insanity.

And as I sit here, doped up on painkillers that seem for some reason not to be working and contemplating all those aspects of our physiology that are now redundant due to the great force that is evolution, I ponder how anyone could believe in creationism or intelligent design. I mean, seriously, God thought, "I know, four useless teeth" or, "how about an appendix?" Useless, painful and possibly deadly. Yeah!

Just a thought.

Yes, this was worth a blog entry

http://www.xkcd.com/

The Myth of Walkabout

As I now have a new blog devoted to my more academic opinionating (hey, English is an evolving language; if I say it's a word, it's a word and I'm hardly going to use the more accurate 'pontificating', am I?) the Myth of Walkabout has now been moved to a more appropriate location at http://www.galtha.blogspot.com.

Has the LHC reactor destroyed the world?

Has the Large Hadron Collidor destroyed the world yet? What do you think? Let me know.

LRD thinks the world is a figment of his imagination, which is why he gets all the food and drink he wants and I carry him everywhere. Yes, in Little Red Dave's world, he is God.

This Balanda had a great night

The tourists have left, the streets are emptier and the Danish cyclists are no longer taking their lives into their hands on the roads. Yes, the Dry is almost over and as the humidity starts to slowly build up, Darwin is saying goodbye to the cool weather with the Darwin Festival: 14 days of music, theatre, art and food in the Botanic Gardens.

Last night was the NT Indigenous Music Awards at the amphitheatre. After a day spent recovering from the extraordinary amount of alcohol I consumed the night before (I drank 4 beers and 1½ bottles of wine, talk about a walking advertisement for the dangers of binge drinking), I was just well enough to make myself down to the Gardens (photos below).

The Awards were a load of fun, although not particularly well organised (my favourite moment was when they asked one of the bands to come back on stage and found they’d already left). The highlight of the evening was the Chooky Dancers, sporting a bit more co-ordination than in the past. If you haven’t seen their YouTube vid yet, check it out. These guys are talented and irrepressible. They naturally performed Zorba the Greek and it was just as entertaining as expected.

The hero of the evening was without doubt Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunupingu from North-east Arnhem Land who won four major awards, including act of the year and album of the year. In case you've never head of him, Gurrumul sings in Yolgnu and has been blind from birth. I own his solo album and it is beautiful.

The band B2M from the Tiwi Islands was named the emerging act of the year and are probably hoping that Boys2Men never hear about them.

Overall, a great night.

Life is like a gift they say, wrapped up for you everyday

Yes, it has been a month of somewhat ordinary miracles as the reality of my hectic schedule for the next 6 months starts to really sink in. Uni has started back again and I have to do a remarkably boring managerial course for work, although this has meant three trips to Brisbane in the next few months. Yay for work-related travel.

I have, however, managed a few touristy things: a few trips to Mindel, dinner at Pee Wee's (by far the best restaurant in Darwin and something you have to book about a month in advance this time of year) and a day trip to Mandorah.

Mandorah is a small community just across the Harbour from Darwin City and, according to my guide book, is a good place to go for lunch by the sea. It wasn't the most exciting outing but the boat ride was nice, even if I still couldn't find the promised fairy.

I fear my blogging will be somewhat sporadic over the next few months as I once again knuckle down to three subjects. Please read through the arhive and feel free to comment.

99 red balloons

If there's one thing Territorians know how to do, it is party. And that's party with a capital F for firecracker. It's firecracker night in Darwin, otherwise known as Territory Day, and even now the dogs of war are being released over my head.

The view from my balcony down over the bay is pretty good at any time, but spectacular with hundreds of fireworks being released all over the city.

Earlier, I went down to Fanny Bay to join the multitudes in setting off fireworks on the beach with some friends. We had a prime position near Mindel and the Casino and the view was amazing.

I had been finding it difficult to motivate myself to join in (drunken Territorians trying to blow off bits of themselves didn't seem like a good time, at least in theory) but changed my mind at sunset when my neighbourhood simply went off. No time to be at home.

Now the city is covered by a thick pall of smoke, fire engines are racing everywhere, there are distant sounds of people cheering and...I think...yes, one of my neighbours has possibly just set fire to that tree. Time to hose the balcony down.

Darwinians certainly don't do anything by halves.

I'll take 31 degrees over 13 anyday

As they say, "time flies when you're...unbelievably busy". It's nearly July and with July comes my new job; or rather an old job, as I go back to my substantive position in Canberra. I will be working remotely, which means I had to visit Central Office last week to re-connect with my team and be briefed on my new project.

I actually had a great time visiting Canberra; in many ways everything is so unchanged that I feel as though I never left. I was reminded of the stark winter beauty of frozen deciduous trees; ate, drank and made merry with old friends; and generally froze my arse off dear Lord was it COLD.

I swear I'm about 5 kilos heavier and no longer possess a functioning liver. Yeah, I guess then it was a fantastic trip.

Pizza: It's a Thing

In my family, as in most, we have institutions.

Not many people's institutions are pizza, science fiction and red wine (I don't mention Bundy rum 'cause, as unAustralian as it makes me, I just could never like it) but institutions are always individual ((or maybe independently communal (communally independent?).)

Despite the fact my family are far away, tonight I made myself pizza (gluten-free dough, gluten-free salami, no yeast, little cheese - is that still pizza?) and thought of home. Now I just have to pour myself a glass of red wine and find an episode of Star Trek...miss you everyone. Hope you had a good long weekend.

What's in the grass?

The Dry is here.

The dragonflies are gone, the mornings are cold (19 degrees this morning) and the humidity is gone. The annual burnoff has started. The faint smell of smoke is almost permanently in the air and a miasmic haze blurs the horizon.

With the Dry comes Mindel Markets, sunsets, tourists in vans heading south and a raft of outdoor activities. The Deckchair Cinema is once again operating and, last weekend, the Bass in the Grass music festival attracted 3/4 of Darwin.

After a beautiful lunch at my mate Deb's place at Cullen Bay, we walked over to the festival with our daggy hats and drank, sang, danced and generally felt...really really bloody old.

The Audreys were great in the afternoon, Gyroscope was quite forgettable, the Hilltop Hoods went off and, despite my dislike of hip hop, I am now a fan (go figure). Wolfmother were bleeding awful and Powderfinger still remains my favourite band in the whole world. They're like an old friend you haven't seen in years but you can still sit down and talk to for hours.

The turnout shows just how much Darwin is crying out for quality entertainment. Anyway, had a great time, even if I did have to be at Uni at 10am the next day. Oh, the pain!

Le Chalet Bear

To celebrate Little Red Dave's brand new home at LittleRedDave.blogspot.com, here's another piccie from the Dave files. This was taken at the end of 2000 in France on a fantastic skiing trip to Val'disere (hopefully someone will correct my spelling soon).

Dave was mostly a Chalet bear on this trip. While I hit the slopes, he stayed inside and drank lots of hot chocolate.

For me, this trip is most memorable for my brutal ski instructor who, despite being totally terrifying, taught me how to parallel ski in only one week.

Reflect

During my rather rambling Australia Day post, I jokingly noted that the nature of our nationhood was best discussed on ANZAC Day.

And although this blog is supposed to be concerned more with movement than ideas, I have nonetheless chosen to write about our national identity on the day I believe most defines it.

Below, I’ve posted in a piece I wrote while in Turkey in 2001. I attended ANZAC Day services, along with 15,000 other people because, although I have long been an ardent pacifist, the military has been a part of my life longer.

I was surprised by how moved I was by the service; how powerful the sense of history and the all-pervading knowledge of senseless death.

And it was senseless. No one celebrating the day should deny this. We were invaders sent to our deaths for a misguided and rather esoteric military objective. The Turks were defending their homes and their families. And everyone died. The bodies lie side by side and anyone visiting the area tours not just the Allied graves but those of the Turks as well.

In one grave, an Australian soldier lies wrapped around a Turkish soldier: we lie together in death. The Turks see this as a symbol of mutual respect and understanding between two opposing forces and so should we.

Standing on those shores one is most struck by the fact that we are not glorifying battle or some misguided notion of an honourable death for Queen and country. No, we are commemorating the willingness of people on BOTH SIDES to sacrifice themselves for something they believe is greater than themselves. We are also reminding ourselves of the ongoing need to strive for peace, to prevent these horrors from happening again: something that we seem to have lost the will for in the past few years.

To quote the Dedication to Peace, spoken as part of the Dawn Service on that day in 2001: “Anzac Day is important We must not forget those who went to war and those who died. We must honour them. We must not forget the example they showed us; we must develop their Spirit of Sacrifice and Commitment. We dare not forget the terrible cost of war: we must work for peace together. In this Peace Park, we are surrounded by the final resting place of soldiers. If our coming here moves us to work even harder for peace, their deaths will not have been in vain.”

I’ve often pondered why we as a nation commemorate a defeat and a skilled withdrawal. I feel this is the defining aspect of our identity that we should not lose. We stood on those shores as Australians for the first time, our identity separate from the other nations that stood with us and we became for the first time ourselves and not a colony of British people on the other side of the world. Whether we won or lost the battle before us was irrelevant. There is no glory in this moment, no great heroic victory to sing songs over. There is simply ourselves; stripped bare and exposed to the world to see. And we lost and liked what we saw nonetheless.

And we cannot forget that for those brave soldiers fighting on the other side, this moment was theirs as well. Because Gallipoli was not just our defining moment of identity: it was the moment the modern nation of Turkey was born as well. There is a reason why the Turkish people celebrate Sovereignty Day on 23 April, a date so close to the one we commemorate. This is something we share and that moment of mutual respect and recognition should never be lost. Because it is within our knowledge of our enemy as human beings that we forge connections across culture and country and become one body of people inhabiting this planet.

As Ataturk memorably said in 1934:
“Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country Therefore rest in peace There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours You, the mothers who sent your sons from far away countries wipe away your tears Your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace After having lost their lives on this land, they have become our sons as well.”

Today is ANZAC Day. March, protest, wear medals, use the word 'digger' a lot, hide from the pageantry, rant about the glorification of war, drink coffee with rum in it or sing songs at dawn in the chill air. But above all things.

Reflect.

I am...you are...Anzac Day 2001

We gathered in the darkness before dawn.

I'd love to say we arrived silently, barely disturbing the stillness of mountains and ocean. Instead we roared in. Buses and cars a choking snarl of steel.

We gathered in the darkness. Fifteen thousand people on a pilgrimage to a single ancient battleground.

Anzac Cove
Anzac Day
Anzacs

As dawn broke over the Dardenelles, striking the mountains and beaches of the Gallipoli Pensinsula, those of us who had travelled from across Europe and across the world repeated an 86 year old tradition of commemoration and prayer.

As the flags of Australia, Turkey and New Zealand fluttered in the morning breeze against the brilliance of a clear blue sky, and the strains of The Last Post echoed and then dissipated, I heard the single amazing sound of my life.

The silence of 15,000 people.

Not one rustle, one whisper disturbed the air. The gentle wash of the ocean against a once-bloodied beach the only sound.

At Lone Pine later in the day, where a single Pine tree still sways in the spring breeze, there was an air of celebration and spontaneous joy. The day was hot and bright and blue and we sat in the cemetary among the graves of Aussies and Kiwis and Turks and sang for the dead and for the living.

It's unusual to see a group of Australians displaying nationalism in an overt way. Yet that is what we saw on that hill as diggers made their way through a crowd 10,000 strong and received a spontaneous standing ovation. Old men from an old war with tears streaming down their lined faces, their medals proudly displayed on their upright chests.

The New Zealand Memorial Service was no less moving. Chunuk Bair, where the Kiwis hovered on the edge of victory before the English were defeated by Ataturk, is one of the few places on this Earth where a memorial to two opposing forces stand facing each other.

As the crowd finished singing the bi-lingual Kiwi National Anthem, a spontaneous Haka by NZ forces was greeted with cheers. It was an amazing day of celebration, commemoration, sadness, joy and an overwhelming call for peace.

Anzac is not and never should be a glorification of war. That we choose to commemorate Anzac Day and a battle of defeat and skilled evacuation does not just serve as an indication of who we are, of our heart and spirit. The celebration has also shaped us over the past 86 years. And the commemoration has shaped and continues to shape what we think, what we feel about what it means to be an Australian. And as the numbers attending Anzac Day increase the impact it has on our psyche will also grow.

In the end, Anzac Day is less about a battle and more about what it means to be Australian. The Turkish people believe the Gallipoli campaigns gave them their nation, their freedom and their identity because it gave them their father: Mustafa Kemal known lovingly as Ataturk. In the same way, Gallipoli gave us our freedom and our independence by giving us our first sense of nationhood.

And as we stand on the beach and up at The Lone Pine this is what we gain and what becomes strengthened. Many query the journey. Even those involved find it difficult to explain what draws them to this place in greater numbers as each years passes. For me, and I believe for many others, the answers lie in that open applause for the diggers.

I am
You are
We are
Australian

Happy birthday to..Meeee

Flew down to Brisvegas last week for my birthday and had a very good time. Mostly eating, drinking whisky, and watching too much bad science fiction but I also climbed the Story Bridge, which is well worth a blog entry. Dad and my birthdays are only a week apart and we both got the climb as a gift. Had to get up at 3:30am to get to the climb at 4am and My Lord was it cold after Darwin. The climb itself was quite easy and we finished as dawn started breaking. It was a little cloudy, unfortunately, but still a beautiful view (see photo of me and my father below). Raced off afterwards for a traditional coffee at the New Farm Deli, which still has some of the best coffee ever. However briefly, it was really good to be home.

Red on Blue, just the other side of day

One of the best things about living in Darwin is the beautiful clear sunsets and, now that the Dry has begun, they're even better than ever. One of the best ways to view them is on one of the many sunset cruises on Darwin Harbour of an evening. My friends, Kerry and Bruce, were up from Sydney last week, so I took the opportunity to tick yet another activity off my "before I go back to Canberra list" and booked a dinner cruise on the Alfred Noble off Stokes Hill Wharf. The cruise was great, the food was fantastic, the wine refreshing and the sunset impressive. It was well worth it.

Farewell my baby

After 18 years of being a member of my family, my cat, Tia, died today of rhenal failure, which afflicts all cats in the end.

He was a real personality, loving social occasions, laps, sitting in the sun, pizza crusts and generally what everyone else was doing at the time. He was very loving and, like a two-year old person, had all the frustration of complex needs without being able to communicate them. Heaven forbid if we misunderstood the miaow for 'I want to be let out' with 'I want food' or, mostly, 'I want you to go back to bed because I'm tired and I want company'.

Goodbye baby (or, as my mother unfortunately and traumatically called you 'pussy boy'). I will miss you a great deal.

Tiwi Dreaming

A tropical dawn is beautiful. The birds are singing, the stars are still faintly visible in the sky and the sun rises pinky-red over Frances Bay. I sit on my balcony overlooking the water clutching my cup of tea and think: "why the hell am I awake at 6am on a Saturday morning?"

I have been so busy these last few weeks with Uni that I haven't written up about my trip to Tiwi on the Tuesday after Easter. It was a lovely day with visits to the Museum and some Tiwi ceremonies. I bought some artwork from Ngaruwanajirri (The Keeping House), which provides employments and skills training for Tiwi Islanders with a disability. The art is below. The artist for both pieces is Marie Yvonne Tipuamantumirri.

All my friends are getting Mazdas...

Or, in the most traditional version, marriage is in the air. My brother's! Little brother just rang and announced his engagement to his partner, Dan. The two have decided to have a "wedding" (personally I HATE the term commitment ceremony although considering the legal status of homosexual relationships in our country it's probably more accurate). A declaration of commitment and then big party. Congratulations, guys.

I thought the world was supposed to look better in the morning?

It is a truth universally acknowledged that when you take a week off work you will instantly get sick. Such was my thought on Saturday morning as I sat drinking tea in my surprisingly-nice cabin to try to calm my swollen gland, sore throat and headache. This bug, characterised by the headache and a general feeling of being hungover even when you've had nothing to drink has been hanging around work and I keep getting patches of it off and on. Thus I was not the happiest puppy when, three cups of tea but sans breakfast, I met up with today's tour guide. Maybe this is why I didn't enjoy today so much. Still, I got to see Ubirr and that is the main thing.

To start things off, our taciturn guide Victor drove us around Jabiru: not quite the cultural tour I was expecting unless you find uranium mines and demountables fascinating. Then we spent way too long at the Bowali Visitor Centre where I obtained an apple for my breakfast. The Bowali Visitor Centre is very nice but not a patch on the Cultural Centre of the day before. Finally time for the trip to Ubirr, where the rock art is much older than Nourlangie. The paintings range from about 20,000 years ago up to the present day. Because the road is flooded this time of year, the tour company has set up a system of cars and boats to get us across the flooded part.

Photo: People fishing on the road to Ubirr.

What you can't see in this photo is the large croc trap just to the left, thankfully empty. This next photo is of the flooded road from the other side of the boat trip. The boat trip was very pleasant as the plain this time of year is completely submerged in water making it an eerie swamp-like landscape with the ever-present dragonflies that signal the dry is coming flitting everywhere.

Finally we made it to Ubirr and oh yeah, you know how I mentioned it was hot yesterday? Make it hotter today. Definitely 40 degrees, 90% humidity. We started climbing the escarpment at 11:30 and we were clambering up the exposed top at midday. Beautiful view though. The rock art itself was sheltered away from the elements, although a natural leak in one of the galleries has ruined some of them, as have vandals. There is, high on the rock, a painting of a thylacine now extinct everywhere, although extinct on the mainland several thousand years ago. The photo below is the amazing view offered from the top of Ubirr.

Now on the homeward run, we left Kakadu around 4pm and drove back to Darwin via the great view at "Windows on the Wetland" where we had a glass of wine and watched a very impressive storm roll in. Positively monsoonal, it was still raging when we got to Darwin and was very relaxing to watch from my balcony while I ate dinner and chilled.

A Very Good Friday Part 2

From Yellow Waters to the mystic beauty of Nourlangie, where Aboriginal people are believed to have sheltered from storms and the heat. One of the great tragedies of our heavy tread upon the Earth is that the people who lived here, the Warramal clan, were decimated after Europeans came and are now extinct. As such, no one is left alive to tell the stories of the artwork that remains on the rock walls. The art is very special of course and, being comparatively modern, is quite distinct: there is a tradition of painting over older artworks so older paintings can be seen behind the more modern versions. However, what is special about Nourlangie is that it has an old, ancient feel to it. This feel pervades all of Kakadu from the floodpains through to the layered walls of the escarpment. This land is so ancient you can feel its great age surrounding you.

I had some initial reservations about showing the art but have decided to. I've had a look around the net and there seem to be photos of it everywhere. If I find I've made a mistake I'll take it down later but for now here is some art from Nourlangie.

After viewing the main gallery, we clambered up to the lookout for the view. It being around 3:30pm now and nearly 40 degrees, I was, to put it bluntly, buggered. I admired the view then staggered back to the bus to down another litre of water. I had a headache, bad sign, but honestly could not have drunk more water than I did. I drank more than 5 litres and it still wasn't enough.

All finished for the day, the tour bus dropped me off at my accommodation, which rather surprisingly turned out to be a really nice self-contained cabin just outside of Jabiru in a spread-out complex with a pool and bistro. Big shout out to the nice man at Kakadu Lodge who moved heaven and earth to get me a gluten-free meal. I was feeling weary and unwell by this time and it was very welcome. Ate dinner, finished the inevitable "I'm on holiday" Terry Pratchett novel and went to bed at the late hours of...7:30pm. No joke. Bye bye good Friday.

A Very Good Friday

Friday morning, 6am and man was it was hot. And yeah, I know, it's Darwin so it's always hot. But lately it has been genuinely hot. 25 degrees, apparent temperature with humidity 31 degrees. At 6am. Up here, that's about half an hour before sunrise. I stood on the driveway
sweating for all of about 5 minutes before whisked away in air-conditioned comfort to Kakadu.

You know, I have a traditional aversion to coach tours. The only reason I compromised this time round was that it's the only company that takes you to Ubirr (arguably the best rock-art site in the park) in the Wet. The road's still flooded at this time of year so no cars can get through. I have to say, our driver was very knowledgable and I quite enjoyed the three-hour drive down.

So, what's to say about Kakadu that hasn't already been said. It's 20,000 sq km of National Park. It's World Heritage Listed for both natural and cultural reasons, making it only one of about 6 such sites in the world (really should look that up but it's something like that). The name "Kakadu" is from Gagadju, a language that no longer has any living speakers. The Park consists mainly of Aboriginal land leased back to the government and jointly managed by the traditional owners. Most of it is Savannah or woodlands. This time of year, many of the floodplains are covered with water but they're draining fast and will soon be normal ground.

Photo: Photo from South Alligator River of Yellow Waters Floodplain. The bird in the tree is drying its wings after fishing.

Our first stop was actually the Warradjan Aboriginal Cultural Centre near Cooinda. I must admit I wasn't expecting much and was pleasantly surprised. The building is designed in the shape of pig-nosed turtle and the displays are about local flora and fauna in terms of their traditional cultural uses. It also has creation myths, an outline of the local tribes' kinship system (including both moieties and skin names) and I really enjoyed my time there.

After the cultural centre, it was off to Yellow Water Wetlands for a cruise with a fantastic guide. Most of the guides and rangers that work in the park are traditional owners and as such are amazingly knowledgable. Not so much wildlife around in the Wet, they all congregate around the remaining billabongs in the Dry, but the cruise was definitely worth it for the eerie paper-bark swamp and the vista of floodplains. The photo below is of the paperbark swamp. It definitely doesn't capture it, unfortunately.

No Easter Eggs for Miss Chubby this year

Wow, it's been a busy couple of weeks. Uni has started and the idiot who took a full-time study load as well as working full-time spends her whole time doing assignments or walking round and round her desk in the time-honoured manner of all procrastinators. Having said that, I really DID need to do that laundry, that floor needed to be mopped and what's the point of studying if I don't have another cup of coffee?

But none of that matters today because it is Easter Sunday and I'm a little sad. This year, I didn't do my mad dash home for Easter as I set aside this time to see the Top End. That's right. I put aside the study books, the familial responsibilities and the Trepang Farming (long story regarding the only Uni assignment I've ever written that involves the word "penis" and not in a metaphorical, semiotic, feminist-studies way) and hit Kakadu.


I spent Good Friday and yesterday touring around in 40 degree heat with a mere 90% humidity and got to see the top three on my Kakadu hit list, Ubirr, Nourlangie and Yellow Waters, and some other stuff as well.

I have a load of photos so I'm going to divide this post up into separate pieces. Thankfully, I'm not sunburnt and exhausted this morning, like I was when in Katherine, so I intend to produce complete sentences, spell words correctly and not generally babble incoherently.

I'm such a teeny weeny bear...

Haven't put a photo from the Dave files up here for a while so here he is: being held in the hand of my lovely assistant (I totally don't remember her name) in front of the Great Pyramid of Giza circa March 2002.

Typical hazy Cairo environs day, unfortunately.

Egypt is pretty amazing. I definitely want to go back.

Sorry

Today we honour the Indigenous peoples of this land, the oldest continuing cultures in human history.

We reflect on their past mistreatment.

We reflect in particular on the mistreatment of those who were Stolen Generations – this blemished chapter in our nation’s history.

The time has now come for the nation to turn a new page in Australia’s history by righting the wrongs of the past and so moving forward with confidence to the future.

We apologise for the laws and policies of successive Parliaments and governments that have inflicted profound grief, suffering and loss on these our fellow Australians.

We apologise especially for the removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families, their communities and their country.

For the pain, suffering and hurt of these Stolen Generations, their descendants and for their families left behind, we say sorry.

To the mothers and the fathers, the brothers and the sisters, for the breaking up of families and communities, we say sorry.

And for the indignity and degradation thus inflicted on a proud people and a proud culture, we say sorry.

We the Parliament of Australia respectfully request that this apology be received in the spirit in which it is offered as part of the healing of the nation.

For the future we take heart; resolving that this new page in the history of our great continent can now be written.

We today take this first step by acknowledging the past and laying claim to a future that embraces all Australians.

A future where this Parliament resolves that the injustices of the past must never, never happen again.

A future where we harness the determination of all Australians, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, to close the gap that lies between us in life expectancy, educational achievement and economic opportunity.

A future where we embrace the possibility of new solutions to enduring problems where old approaches have failed.

A future based on mutual respect, mutual resolve and mutual responsibility.

A future where all Australians, whatever their origins, are truly equal partners, with equal opportunities and with an equal stake in shaping the next chapter in the history of this great country, Australia.

Kevin Rudd
February 13, 2008


EDITED 03/04/09: Want to contribute to discussion about important issues such as the Stolen Generation and overcoming Indigenous disadvantage? Join me over at www.galtha.blogspot.com.

I Am...? You Are...? We Are...?

What is Australia Day anyway?

God knows. Aside from representing the ultimate in Australian pragmatism (celebrating the real one would mean we lost a public holiday because January 1 is also New Year’s Day), what else is it? Invasion day? Well yes, absolutely. Triple J hottest 100 day? Considering a few things that have happened in the last few years, I’d also have to go for Yobbo Day.

Exacerbating the confusion is the aforementioned issue of the date. I mean, celebrating the Federation of our nation now that would be one thing. But celebrating the first establishment of a penal colony on a continent that was already populated?

Woo hoo.

Anyway, this entry is not about the philosophical conundrum that is our nation’s identity: there’s always Anzac Day for that.

No, this entry is about my Australia Day. I’m celebrating today by a road trip, the Hottest 100 (I'm up to Number 10) and some of the most beautiful sights in our country. Today I drove down to Katherine and toured the Gorge in Nitmiluk National Park.

Moving to Darwin so close to the Wet, I had decided to wait until the Dry before getting out of Darwin and doing the sights. But the thought of spending a long-weekend by myself in my Unit with perhaps the odd East Point Reserve walk left me slightly cold. Screw the wet - I'm out of here!

I left Darwin around 6am and drove straight down to Litchfield National Park, near Batchelor. Only a hour from Darwin to the Park entrance, the Buley Rockhole is a favourite weekend hangout for Darwinites.

I'd been meaning to get down here for weeks so was glad to finally make it. I had my caffeine fix at a Caravan Park and then headed to the Termite Mounds. The mounds are made by both Magnetic and Cathedral Termites and are very impressive. Unfortunately, the photo doesn't quite capture the majestic beauty of the mounds. It's almost like a cemetary full of silent headstones that are found to team with life when you approach.

(Triple J Hottest 100 song number 8...and counting down).

From the termites to the Buley Rockpool, which was magical this early in the morning. Only 8am, no one else was there and the pool's bubbling serenity was all for me...oh, and the Goanna.

Apparently, the pool is teeming with visitors in the Dry, so I'm very lucky.

Small photo problem there, which took a while and now it's - NUMBER 4. It's, that song. Oh, what's that song? You know, Jon Butler Trio..."Life's not about what's better than..." Actually, I think it's called "Better Than"... Good to see JBT up there 'cause they are truly exceptional.

Where was I? Florence Falls. Just up the road from Buley is Florence Falls. Unfortunately the plunge pool is closed this time of year but there's a lovely lookout and 1km walk back to the carpark, which was great.

It was 9:30am by then and I drove off to the Adelaide River War Cemetary, which was...well, it was a War Cemetary. Beautiful, well-kept gardens and graves of people who died too young.

And now we're gearing up for Number 2. It is...Silverchair with one of my favourite songs - Straight Lines. Yay!

Already past 10am, I powered on to Katherine and booked into my motel before scooting off to the Gorge for a cruise.

What can I say about Katherine Gorge except...Wow! and I'm sorry that words should fail me so horribly at this stage. It was almost indescribably beautiful.

Seeing my photos when I came back was disappointing because they didn't capture it. What would be beautiful would be cruising down there alone. You can canoe the Gorge in the Dry and I think this would be wondeful. Just padding quietly through this impressively serene canyon, red and brown stone towering above the water.

And now I'm back in my room typing this out and watching a Top End storm roll in. Daniel John's is being commiserated for only coming second and they're about to announce Number 1.

Ok, I'd prefer a BBQ, a beer and the family but this has been a pretty good Australia Day (whatever that is).

And Number 1 is...wow they're really dragging it out...drum roll...it is...

Muse: Knights of Cydonia

Happy Invasion Day, everyone

This little piggy went to...

On a Saturday morning in Darwin, there’s only one thing to do and that’s Parap Markets. While it’s not a patch on Mindel for atmosphere and Rapid Creek markets (Sunday morning) is definitely the place for fresh fruit and veg, Parap are open all-year round and locals literally flock to buy delicious food, arts and crafts. And I will admit to a fondness for the ‘Soy Whip’ the local lassi place makes...Yum!

Here’s some more photos of the favourite Saturday morning hangout for a city of 100,000 people.

Apropos of nothing

I've stumbled across a fantastic blog, one I know many members of my family would enjoy. A gentleman in England has put up his ancestor's war letters exactly 90 years after they were written. WW1: Experiences of an English Soldier

The blog has an astonishing readership of people breathlessly waiting Pte Harry's next letter. Will he make it home? I'm only up to the end of 1917 (2007) myself, but the blog is ongoing so I don't think the ending is spoilt yet, however some comments have led me to think it doesn't have a very happy ending.

The morning after the night before

All things considered, I have come through my "first cyclone" relatively unscathed. I didn't even lose power. Tropical Cyclone Helen has passed south of Darwin and is starting to degrade into a Category 1 cyclone. It's expected to become a tropical low later this morning.

Aside from the whistling from the cyclonic winds, last night was uneventful. All I can say is thank goodness for the portable music revolution. I went back to bed about 2am or so and hooked myself up to my MP3 player of unspecified brand. Listening to music, I went off to sleep and didn't wake until my parents rang at 6am to make sure I was still alive.

After the cyclone and my unfortunate moisture problem that caused mould to grow all down one of my walls while I was away over Christmas, I almost feel like a local.

Gone with the wind? Let's hope not.

How does this begin?

It's 1:30 am and the soundtrack of my life is the roaring gusts of wind: 130kmph.

Cyclone Helen, Category 2, is roaring around my ears, although Darwin is still far from the epicentre. It is expected to pass just south of the city, however, so more fun will ensue over the next day. I'm all prepared, with canned food, gluten-free snacks, water, a torch and spare batteries, candles, matches and a portable radio.

Having said that, I still have power! Amazing and welcome. I went to sleep this evening about 9:30pm but slept fitfully until 1:15am when the winds struck. I'm surprisingly hot, mainly because the whole place is shut up.

I'm watching TV, monitoring the weather and wishing I had some friends hanging out on Facebook at the moment. The sound of gale-force winds is one of the eeriest in the world. Oh, I forgot to add the most important provisions: a copy of Orhan Pamuk's "My Name is Red" and the first five Discworld novels.

The lights dimmed slightly so I'll sign off and try to write later. Adieu