|
Three years after the seemingly ficklesome new south wales weather peed on my first attempt, I finally made it to the blue mountains on Saturday. I ensured I had an early..ish night on Friday, and persuaded my digital cockrel to crow for me on his day off. After an early bout of vertical inertia, and another missed australian train (it's habit forming), I was soon gliding through open fields of eucalyptus westward bound. The sky was shining and the sun was clear, and on my todd I felt like a brave adventurer heading for the unknown, lonely planet map in pocket, and knapsack full of PB sandwiches. It took two hours for the train to pull into katoomba station. Australian trains seem to take twice as long to get anywhere than the european ones I am accustomed to, but you cant stay angry with them for long because they are cute double deckers and have cool reversible seats, that you can push the backs over to face whichever direction you like. Katoomba was abuzz with backpackers, and mountain tour posters and information offices, all fighting for the tourist dollar. I ignored them all, bought a chocolate doughnut, and munched my way south down the main st towards echo point (….far away in time). I began to doubt I was going in the right direction as all was and the road down hill was lined with houses and greenery, seemingly going nowhere and without a soul passing me. My map and compass reassured me, I guess most visitors just get the bus down. I left the road and took a small scrubby track between the trees, and stumbled upon a large rusting cable attached to some pulleyed mechanism and fenced off. A few more metres and I was dumbstruck with an amazing view. I was at the cliff edge, and the main valley fanned out before me, a seemingly impenetrable green carpet of eucalyptus trees stretched out as far as the eye could see, with faces of sunblasted orange rock rising from the valley sides. The blue itself was the haze of transpiration, rising from the trees, veiling deeper sapphire the further it wept. The blue mountains region is actually the size of Belgium, something I found hard to believe until it breathed before me. I detected a whirrr and the pulleys to my left started moving, I discovered that they were the main mechanism for operating the skyway, a large cable car from the 50's that is pulled halfway out hanging over nowhere, before rolling back along the rickety wire a few minutes later. It didn't actually go anywhere, and seemed a little pointless. I followed the cliff path left towards echo point itself, still very much alone in the serine stillness of the mountain air, not cold, just crisply warm, a refreshing break after the humid week we had just endured. I saw a couple of condorlike birds hover and swoop over the mountains edge, I have no idea what they were, but they squawked like something from a grand canyon cowboy stakeout, I would have said 'hello' to them, but I didn't want to trespass upon the stillness. The number of people increased as I neared the three sisters rock formations on echo point, as did the use of the word 'australia' and the images of cartoon koalas on their clothing. By the main viewpoint of the three sisters, there was a sea of oriental camcorder captains, rolling out of their coaches for their seven minute mountain experience to tell Tokyo all about. I grabbed my shot and ran away…down the ginat staircase of 800 steps leading down into the Jameson valley, some weren't so much steps as ledges of rock, and I was very glad I was going down and not up. At the foot of the steps it was much cooler, in the shade of the forest, and the people seemed to vanish once more, in a puff of excersive smoke no doubt. When given the signposted option, I elected for randomness and headed left, unplanned towards the intriguingly named Leura cascades, I didn't care how far they were, they sounded worth a walk. An hour and twenty minutes later, through the Leura forest, escorted by the cries of birds which sounded like the offspring of a chicken cross breeding with R2D2, I found them. A collection of waterfalls besides another staircase, this time leading up, led me to a cliff face surrounded with the fine mists of water rolling from the top, rainbows and sundogs were cast in the veil, and a wall of water made its way down the side of the rock and down the valley. It was like a giant glistening chocolate proffeiter roll melting in the sun. Oddly, all around the left of the cascades were wrecked cars, about six of them. They had at some point plunged from the cliffs to land in smitherines at the base, whether or not they were occupied at the time is another matter, but the lack of scorch marks must imply they were drained of fuel prior. I chose the arrival of the school party as my cue to leave, and rushed back through the forest to try and catch the last train up the valley on the scenic railway to avoid having to go up those steps I cheerfully bounced down. I paused to spy on a big black peacock like bird, with grey tail feathers rummaging in the undergrowth, but was pushed away by the mosquitoes who had designs on my juices. I just made it in time to the scenic railway, the steepest in the world. It is at a 45 degree incline, and as it pulled me backwards up the cliff face I felt my bottom sliding off the chair and I grabbed the caged roof to hold me in, and held my breath as all turned to black in the mountain tunnel. After watching the wild and colourful parrots feeding at the top of the track, I just had time for a blissful coffee hit in a katoomba café before catching the train home. I was so tired I slept through the massive all night party in our flats, that kept the whole street awake, and after doing the coogee to bondi walk again on Sunday, am positively knackered in the rear leg department today! Sydney Mardi Gras 2000 After weeks of seeing the logo of interlocking multi coloured circles in all the shop windows, cafes and bars around sydney, the years number one event finally arrived…nope, not the Olympics, but the 23rd gay and lesbian mardi gras! Favourite retro dance partners Chloe and Nikki (who shall hopefully also be featuring in my New Zealand and Fiji adventures) took a 22 hour bus journey from the ginger fields of marouchidoor Queensland to my door in Coogee especially for the occasion. Withered from the journey, vertical sleeping and ginger picking in the soggy rain of the ‘sunshine state’, they sat on a bench, flowers in their hair, looking out across the ocean and babysat my t-shirts, drying out in the sun alongside them, while I retrieved the rest of my laundry. We met Laura in town, picked up our charity collection buckets, t-shirts and caps, and hit the streets at 1pm. Even though it was early things were shaping up around town. The parade wasn’t due to start until 8pm, but the barriers were already up to keep the crowds at bay, and a few people (mainly Japanese tourists) had set up camps alongside the barriers, and were playing cards while sat on milk crates. Milk crates were definitely the essential accessory to every costume for spectators, the ultimate in utility chic, as by standing on it you gain in height by about half a foot and can actually see over any potential Marge Simpsons who may be standing in front of you. Such sought after items were these milk crates that they were being sold on the black market for ten bucks a pop. However they proved a little too difficult to conceal from within the linings of large brown trench coats, so the dealers were easily unmasked by the giveaway walls of blue plastic cubes behind them. The vendors of useless cardboard periscopes and rainbow flags were as easily identifiable by the stacks of cardboard periscopes and rainbow coloured flags they wielded upon each arm. Not everyone was charging a fortune for fancy wares though. One company was giving away free promotional pink handbags with gold beaded chain straps. In each bag was a fortune cookie, lollipop, condom, body scrub and a tube of KY jelly, presumably to assist later in the evening, during the users quest to slip though the crowds and reach the front of the barricades. We all donned our pink handbags and continued collecting. Whenever someone gave a donation, we gave them a sticker, which not only was a thank you, but helped us see who had already given so we didn’t hassle them again. For some reason we had every colour of the rainbow except purple, and everyone wanted it so they could complete their set of colours! It seemed much harder going getting people to donate than last time. Probably because not only had many people already given in the two weeks prior, but there were so many of us volunteers on the street, that unless you wanted to be hassled all day, you had to chuck a coin or two in the bucket. So people did it as soon as they could, making spotting folk without stickers quite a task. It also was harder as the streets were so crowded it was tricky to approach individuals face to face, making it easier for them to say no and escape. “It’s better to give than receive” I chanted. Regardless, we did collect lots of coins, and a few notes too, I had to pretend not to be grossed out when a short drag queen in his fourties, face CAKED in unbecoming make up put five dollars in the bucket and kissed me on the cheek saying “happy mardi gras”. I did feel like a little bit of a whore at that point! All manner of folk were walking around in clothes you rarely see at night, let alone broad daylight ona Saturday afternoon. The sparkly costumes all shone and the feathers blew, but it must have been drafty for those who decided to wear their leather trousers with the bottom missing, and their own hanging out in the flesh! I continued my freaky bumping into people campaign by spotting a girl from my university campus, david parslow from my old donut job and later on BLue (becky- friend from london) who I had completely forgotten was coming to Oz! She’s now living in Coogee too, so we shall do beers soon. They always come in 3’s and this was my second set, all in one afternoon, bringing the total of past life reunions to 6. I wonder how many other people I know are here who I have yet to bump into?? Our four hours were soon up, and with our heavy buckets we returned to base, just as it started raining….looks like Chloe and Nikki had a ginger stalker with a bit of an overbite! We managed to meet up with the lovely Rachel who was back in town, with her friend, but unfortunately only had one spare ticket to the volunteers viewing area, so we said farewell too soon and parted in the crowds. (Rachel ended up with a great view on the balcony of her friends hostel, just over the road from us!). We were meant to meet Lorna and her friends in a bar, but the old ‘no open toed shoes’ excuse was wheeled out, so we failed to do so. While I was inside looking for them, the girls were outside talking to three german gay guys over for the occasion. While blowing bubbles from a smiley faced bubble blowing necklace, they were trying to work out whether the three girls were lesbians, and decided they were not due to their long hair. They asked me if I was gay, and I leapt to my own defence: “Do I look gay?” I asked in a gruff voice, my pink handbag swinging under my arm in great comedy form, much to the amusement of the girls. On our way to the viewing area near fox studios we bumped into friends of Quentins who I met in geringong, and Danny who I was collecting with the other week. He’d left his ticket at home, so I gave him my spare and we all fought our way down flinders street past the fast assembling throng in thongs. The viewing area itself was quite large, and although we had seats, they were 5 rows from the front. In our eyes that was five rows too many, so we ditched that and went back on the streets with joe public and ended up front row on the street corner, leaning over the barricades. Chloe and Nikki were freezing in their small vest tops, so Danny donated his jacket which they both fitted in as he is a tall chap with Serbian blood, so I guess his genes are used to the cold, even if not from first hand experience. We stood and drank beers and waited patiently for the parade to reach us (we were near the end), watching the spotlights sweeping across the dramatic white, foggy clouds above, illuminating the fetishistic (I made that word up, but my spellchecker likes it!!) flying foxes who were wearing their tight leathery wings especially for the occasion. Fortunately the rain held off. Eventually, after several beers, we heard the distant cheers. The rumble of bassline, and the slicking of hairlines told us it was time, but we were ready….front row and reaching. All manner of disco beats, wild costumes (or lack of them!), colours and persuations thrust along the street, some of which seemed very risquee for a public event. Among the various floats were the ‘gay airlines’ featuring staff from ‘Pufthansa’, ‘Hair New Zealand’ and best of all ‘Qtass’, parading around in swimming trunks to choreographed dance music. The protests against tax on tampons featuring giant used tampons (one of which had prince charles’ head on for some reason!) entitled ‘the bloody mary’s’, someone dressed as steven king’s carrie brought up the rear soaked in blood. People dressed in giant Kraft Vegemite jar costumes with the logo doctored to read : Krack Sodomite: “one brown spread converted me”. The fetish float had a huge spiders web on the back of the lorry with a man caught in it. Stripped naked and with a huge metal protrusion fastened to his outlet, he had an oxygen mask on, and all around him were pvc clad folk with whips, a cannon at the back fired out feathers which stuck to the other marchers covered in sticky stuff. The Canadian mounties (the mountie always gets his man) wore the usual mountie uniform…..except for the fish nets and red heels on the lower half. The irish float was ‘Angela’s lashes’ followed by lots of giant eyeballs with eyelashes down to the ground, suspended above the marchers. The gay vets all dressedin dalmation costumes with a cruella deville drag queen up front, and the lesbian drummers beat up a storm and the dykes on bikes left a petrol smell from their harley davidsons. One thing that did surprise me was the number of religious floats, gay jews, christians, hindis, and many other religions were all represented with their usual biblical imagery, accompanied by rainbow flags. Randomly Neil Morrissy and Martin Clunes from tv’s ‘men behaving badly’ were walking in amongst the floats. Abba, Diana and dusty springfield tributes were plentiful, the tunes rolling aound your head for ages after the floats had passed. We were so close to the front that we got squirted by water pistols, and got to touch the flags being waved over us, and shake hands with any marchers that came close, or maybe even exchange pecks on the cheek. Unfortunately we werent in the spot where all the fireworks went off, so we just saw their coloured reflections on the clouds and heard the bangs. After two hours it drew to a close, the drag queens looked exhausted from all that walking in high heels, and some of the costumes did look very heavy. After searching for a discrete place to de-beer (tree) we all walked back into town, past the dancing crowds still on the streets on their stages made from milk crates, every window had a stereo in it and people were moving to all manner of tunes. Myself, Chloe, Nikki and Danny all held hands in a line, Laura dancing away, and we looked just like the mardi gras logo in unison. The ginger finally caught up with Chloe and Nikki, so I gave them my key and they went back to crash at my place. Danny too left as he had told his dad he was working so couldn’t be out too late or he would kill him. Apparently he was worried Danny might get influenced by the corrupt and evil goings on in town, I wonder how he will react when he finds out his precious little Danny already is gay? Laura and I partied on as best we could, but unfortunately the streets were so crowded that you couldn’t get into any decent bars or clubs without paying a small fortune, and we were exhausted from all the walking we had done that day. Laura did meet who she called “the cutest looking bloke I have ever seen in my life”, from melbourne, they got on really well and were sure to end up snogging. We stopped for a moment to dance on a milk crate, and when we got down he had just vanished, lost in a sea of people!! Poor Laura, they would have been quite the cute couple. We parted and wandered off home through the sea of empty milk crates, falling asleep with dreams of flying monkeys and pots of gold in our weary heads. header ok, i think you get the picture now. truth is i dont have time to keep this page updated while i'm travelling as it would cost me a fortune in web cafes! So if you want to hear anymore of my travel tales, email me and i can cc: you in!! J_kerswell@hotmail.com |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|