Thursday, April 28, 2005
World Cup Final Losers
It really would have been easier to get into Australia in times past, with the obligatory criminal record of course. Anyway, without wishing to draw on hackneyed maxims, here's the full SP on proceedings.
Having secured my (yet another) visa on line - for a relatively mere GBP8, it has to be said - we got to the gate ready to board. Cinders breezed through without any trouble at all, but it seemed that my paperwork wasn't all in order. So having assured the woman on the desk that I'd successfully applied for a visa, she was straight on the phone to Canberra (where it was 3am or something ridiculous) to find out what the jackanory was. Anyway, it turns out some pen pusher in that attractive capital city hadn't done his job properly, and before you could say David Blunkett, my visa was swiftly approved and I was ushered on to the plane.
Not that the fun stopped there. On arrival into Perth, we were greeted by the Wood Police, who kindly ask you to tip all your luggage out to see what natural products you might be carrying - just what you need after an eight hour flight, with six hours jet lag thrown in. So after we'd declared the backgammon board and the safari farm set (along with a couple of tins of baked beans for good measure) we were eventually allowed to proceed - a mere seventy minutes spent in customs. In the unlikely event they'll ever be allowed to take the Urn down there, I trust we'll have packed it with woodborers beforehand.
We had only three nights in Perth, most of which was spent struggling with jet lag, or drinking beer. Ashcroft very kindly picked us up at the airport (with Easter eggs) before chauffeuring us around half of WA looking for somewhere to stay. It seemed that all the backpackers' joints were full, unless we wanted to share a bunk bed in a sweaty box room. Funnily enough, we decided against this and opted for the local Best Western - which, for a paltry GBP12 per night more than the backpacker places we got a decent room and everything that goes with it - nice.
Mark then proceeded to look after us extremely very well indeed over the next couple of days, showing us the sights of Perth and Fremantle (cheers Mark, we really appreciate this) of which there are stunningly few photos below. And thanks to Justin for cooking us dinner one evening - see you in the U.K.
Then it was back on a plane for the long haul down to Auckland, with a change of planes in Sydney. It was here that were ran into the ACT Brumbies, who were also on their way down to Auckland (to be beaten at the weekend as it turned out). Despite being the current Super 12 champions, they were holed up down the back the plane with the rest of us. I was going to have a word with Mortlock, Giteau, Gregan and co about the events of a couple of Novembers back, but I couldn't get near them for someone melting at their feet (ooooh, but they're all so gorgeous. Whatever sweetheart).
Having secured my (yet another) visa on line - for a relatively mere GBP8, it has to be said - we got to the gate ready to board. Cinders breezed through without any trouble at all, but it seemed that my paperwork wasn't all in order. So having assured the woman on the desk that I'd successfully applied for a visa, she was straight on the phone to Canberra (where it was 3am or something ridiculous) to find out what the jackanory was. Anyway, it turns out some pen pusher in that attractive capital city hadn't done his job properly, and before you could say David Blunkett, my visa was swiftly approved and I was ushered on to the plane.
Not that the fun stopped there. On arrival into Perth, we were greeted by the Wood Police, who kindly ask you to tip all your luggage out to see what natural products you might be carrying - just what you need after an eight hour flight, with six hours jet lag thrown in. So after we'd declared the backgammon board and the safari farm set (along with a couple of tins of baked beans for good measure) we were eventually allowed to proceed - a mere seventy minutes spent in customs. In the unlikely event they'll ever be allowed to take the Urn down there, I trust we'll have packed it with woodborers beforehand.
We had only three nights in Perth, most of which was spent struggling with jet lag, or drinking beer. Ashcroft very kindly picked us up at the airport (with Easter eggs) before chauffeuring us around half of WA looking for somewhere to stay. It seemed that all the backpackers' joints were full, unless we wanted to share a bunk bed in a sweaty box room. Funnily enough, we decided against this and opted for the local Best Western - which, for a paltry GBP12 per night more than the backpacker places we got a decent room and everything that goes with it - nice.
Mark then proceeded to look after us extremely very well indeed over the next couple of days, showing us the sights of Perth and Fremantle (cheers Mark, we really appreciate this) of which there are stunningly few photos below. And thanks to Justin for cooking us dinner one evening - see you in the U.K.
Then it was back on a plane for the long haul down to Auckland, with a change of planes in Sydney. It was here that were ran into the ACT Brumbies, who were also on their way down to Auckland (to be beaten at the weekend as it turned out). Despite being the current Super 12 champions, they were holed up down the back the plane with the rest of us. I was going to have a word with Mortlock, Giteau, Gregan and co about the events of a couple of Novembers back, but I couldn't get near them for someone melting at their feet (ooooh, but they're all so gorgeous. Whatever sweetheart).
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Coast to coast
And into Cape Town (not Chicago), the final destination on this whole Africa jaunt; the object, of course, being to attend the wedding of G. Matchett Esq. to Miss Lopez (along with giving a lesson in the rules of Rugby Football to the referees' association). Unlike Kaplan, I'll refer you to the camera (plenty of pics below). Suffice to say we had a great time - sunny weather, enjoyable company, knockout nosebag and wine. Congrats to Grant and Marnie - it was great to be there.
So what a shock it was to be back into a more 'westernised' environment. Not only in terms of the cost of the place (it was akin being back in London) but the fact that one didn't need to argue for, and over, everything. Of course, this takes out the fun of having to haggle for everything. Either way, it was all too much for my constitution - having survived two months on the road in deepest Africa without any sort of issues at all, two days in a developed city and my stomach revolted. This didn't, however, prevent me from undertaking the degustation menu at a rather fine restaurant in Franschoek. The eight courses were easily polished off, though the five hefty glasses of wine plus sherry, port and brandy took some digesting. All of which proved too much for some other gent in the restaurant who promptly collapsed on attempting to repair to the lounge. Cue Cinders to play nurse - he was called Ken and from (sophistication? I've been to) Leeds. "I only had the set menu". Well quite. Anyway, all this shenanigans resulted in Luce getting her feed for free - which was nice.
And so after such excitement, it was off to the airport. This seemed a little incongruous, seeing as we'd spent the previous weeks getting around by delapidated buses and also presented little opportunity for me to complain. But time to go it was, and with a certain degree of sadness we were out of Africa, as it were, and on our way to Perth (to Wait Awhile, no doubt).
So what a shock it was to be back into a more 'westernised' environment. Not only in terms of the cost of the place (it was akin being back in London) but the fact that one didn't need to argue for, and over, everything. Of course, this takes out the fun of having to haggle for everything. Either way, it was all too much for my constitution - having survived two months on the road in deepest Africa without any sort of issues at all, two days in a developed city and my stomach revolted. This didn't, however, prevent me from undertaking the degustation menu at a rather fine restaurant in Franschoek. The eight courses were easily polished off, though the five hefty glasses of wine plus sherry, port and brandy took some digesting. All of which proved too much for some other gent in the restaurant who promptly collapsed on attempting to repair to the lounge. Cue Cinders to play nurse - he was called Ken and from (sophistication? I've been to) Leeds. "I only had the set menu". Well quite. Anyway, all this shenanigans resulted in Luce getting her feed for free - which was nice.
And so after such excitement, it was off to the airport. This seemed a little incongruous, seeing as we'd spent the previous weeks getting around by delapidated buses and also presented little opportunity for me to complain. But time to go it was, and with a certain degree of sadness we were out of Africa, as it were, and on our way to Perth (to Wait Awhile, no doubt).
