Darwin in a Daze

19/11/08

Somewhere in mid-afternoon we arrive in Darwin, capital of the Northern Territory. We go to the Tourism Office and ask for available accommodation. We are given the option of a hotel room for a reasonable price or a room with kitchen for slightly more, we opt for the kitchen option as this means we can save a bit of money by cooking for ourselves.
The room is booked for three nights and we drive down to the hotel. We check-in, take the lift up to the room and discover that it doesn't have a kitchen. It's 35 degrees, really humid and we've just driven 7000km so we're a bit cheesed off.
I go to reception and tell the receptionist what has happened and she offers no solution, and to be honest we really couldn't be arsed moving hotels now, so I tell her to at least phone the Tourism Office and tell them that they've screwed up. Again there is a polite but impenetrable response. The room is nice, there is a good swimming pool and we're knackered so we call off any hostilities for the moment.

We spend the rest of the day chilling and avoiding the fierce sun as much as we can.

20/11/08

Apart from a visit to the Northern Territory Desert Park the rest of the week here in Darwin is spent recovering from the journey; combating the heat and humidity whilst still trying to get out and about; and realising why this is the beginning of what is known as 'suicide season'.
I've never fully understood humidity having never been in the tropics for any length of time. And my cursory glances at my google homepage often told that Sydney was 30 degrees and 48% humidity, where Edinburgh was 10 degrees and 78% humidity. But after a few days in Darwin I understand that humidity has almost no relevance until you apply the notoriously harsh Australian sun.







So basically it's somewhere between 35 to 40 degrees, which in itself makes you feel like the 'long pigs' we supposedly are, just stuff an apple in your mouth, turn round a few times and you're done. But given that the air is saturated with moisture, your body sweats and the sweat has nowhere to go. So it doesn't evaporate and carry off body heat with it. It's at this point that I wonder how much of the humidity is previously evaporated sweat. Hmmm...

All in all it takes its toll and after a couple of days we both feel a bit 'crook' from dehydration and overheating.

Luckily there is 'Hairy Lemon' to save the day (basically a yellow berocca). Like revenge, 'hairy lemon' is definitely best served cold as it's one of those things that tastes like it's doing you good. But once it has warmed up the yellow liquid takes on a more 'uric' quality.

This is however quite appropriate as it tends to dye your pee bright yellow if you drink enough quickly enough. This is something that wouldn't have bothered me had I not forgotten about it and stood at the top end of a busy public urinal. Cue concerned looks.

Anyway, enough about bodily fluids, and onto the more important subject of facial hair. It's been about 6 weeks since I shaved, not entirely a conscious decision but more some kind of half-hearted sacrifice to the gods of road safety. Though I'm not sure that giving up shaving can be considered a sacrifice.
Either way it's time to get rid of the growth as it really doesn't suit the conditions up here.

Also it fits in nicely to the peculiarly Aussie tradition of Mow-vember, whereby Aussie men (and possibly some women) sport various extravagant beard and moustaches during the month of November. The serious side of this is that it's done in an effort to promote awareness of prostate cancer and other male health issues.

As ever, humour is the best way to deliver a serious message and a large amount of the populace partakes in the 'event'.

So in the spirit of this, I decided to join in with more than a small nod to good old Rolph. Judge the results for yourself.


21/11/08

The rest of the week in Darwin was spent sorting out what we're doing from here on in. The fickle deities of immigration have at last been kind and we've been allowed a few weeks extra in Aus.
This gives us the chance to explore a little bit more and also to visit Aaron and Teresa and their new daughter before we finally leave the rain forsaken island.
So as we're in the far North of the country, the only sensible thing to do is to head down to Tasmania (?).

Before we do any of this we have to get rid of all the camping miscellany we have gathered over the past few weeks, and Darwin is backpacker central so that shouldn't be too difficult. You'd think.
The first hostel Mandy goes into looks at her with a mixture of disbelief and contempt.

'You want to do what?'..
'Give us a load of free almost new camping gear which we can sell to backpackers and make a 100% profit?'
'I'm sorry we don't do that.'

Whit?

Anyway, I have better luck at the next place and they are quite grateful, especially for the Scrabble set. Anyone who has spent several weeks camping with their partner will understand.

We then leave our bikes unchained in the hotel car park and hope that fate delivers them to deserving owners, although it will probably be a speedy dissolution into rusty puddles.

Thus the great road trip is over and we're back to aeroplanes, check-in, baggage allowances, economy seating and airport security.