We arrived in Cairns after dark, and heard talk on the radio of an Aussie Rules Football ("footy") match. As luck would have it, the road carried us by the bright lights of the stadium, so we bought some tickets and went in to experience some real Australian culture. We watched the end of a junior match, and then the Brisbane Lions and the Western Bulldogs (from Melbourne) took the field. The field conditions were less than ideal after the previous day's heavy rains, and the water was continuing to pour from the sky. A footy field is huge, and when action happened on the other side of the field the players were lost in the silvery sheets of rain. When the action came to our side, though, it was intense -- fast-paced, physical, and pretty darn exciting.
In other news, I dyed Kate's hair blue today, and it wasn't even by accident.
Cairns in another town that is slowly succumbing to tourist pressure. It is packed full of t-shirt shops and dijeridoo shops and photo developers and tour operators, and any charms it may have once had are steadily being buried under the weight of too many people with too much spare money. It has few remaining attractions: the Great Barrier reef, about an hour or so offshore; the surrounding rainforest; and the nightlife, where according to the Lonely Planet (and word of mouth) just about anyone can get laid.
Kate and I plan to take advantage of the first two draws. Tomorrow we'll be heading for the Great Barrier Reef, and the day after that we'll be driving north to explore the rainforest.
Kate and I took a snorkelling trip out to the Great Barrier Reef. The gentleman at the info center recommended Passions of Paradise, which turned out to be a rather slow catamaran full of backpackers. I was looking forward to the snorkelling; while Kate and I were on Fraser Island I had learned how to equalize my ears while free-diving, and I was keen to explore the depths that were now open to me.
The aquatic wildlife was, of course, great. We saw more fish than I could possibly name, in schools and swimming by themselves. There were several different kinds of coral, and giant clams that were more than a meter across, with glowing phosphorescent lips. Surprisingly, the reef is a very noisy place -- not from people or boats, but from the parrot fish. They use sharp teeth and strong jaws to chew up the coral, and the water is filled with the constant noise of raining sand.
As a child, I used to show off at the local pool by swimming down to the bottom at the deep end and touching all the drainage grates. The depth there was twelve feet, one inch, and it is a depth I've never again reached while swimming -- the pressure in my ears has always been too painful to dive very far below water -- that is, until now. With my newly-learned skill at equalizing ear pressure I was able to get further underwater than ever before, and it was incredible. I felt like I'd discovered a new world. Instead of floating on the surface and looking down, like through a window, I entered the fish's world. I swam among the coral. At one point I followed a buoy's anchor down to the bottom, descending 40 or 50 feet beneath the water on just a lungful of air. I swam down to where the scuba divers were spewing giant bubbles, and watched them moving in slow motion. I felt very cocky, swimming down there in their world, completely unencumbered, and they didn't seem all that impressed. But I was.
In other news, I dyed Kate's hair blue again, because the first job didn't take very well. The colour is kind of purplish this time, though, and not nearly blue enough. We'll have to try again.
I'm a big fan of tea. At times I've had more than 60 different varieties and blends in my collection, and there's still a sizeable stash awaiting me back home, under the watchful eye of my grandmother. All better known for its beer, Australia is actually home to a very good tea: Daintree Tea. Kate and I have been enjoying this tea for several years, so we made arrangements to visit the plantation.
We drove north from Cairns, through increasingly wild rainforest and on increasingly deteriorating roads. We took a ferry across the crocodile-infested Daintree River, and then fjorded a few streams that had spilled their banks after the heavy rains. Eventually we found the neatly manicured hedges of tea, and drove up the steep dirt road to the processing shed.
The operation was surprisingly simple: tea was machine harvested and air-dried overnight, then processed through several drying machines, and sorted and filtered. A small, steady stream of tea fell into several buckets at the end of the machines. The operation was a little underwhelming, but still interesting. I hope to visit more tea plantations as we travel through Indonesia, India, China, and Japan.
We continued northward to Cape Tribulation, an area famous for its rainforest, relaxed atmosphere, and man-eating crocodiles. Kate and I took an interesting walk through the rainforest and mangrove swamp, and marvelled at how alive everything was. The plant life was dense, and the trees dripped with ants and moss and vines. It almost seemed too alive, as if nature was choking on its own growth. It was certainly very different from the relatively simple, open forests to which I was accustomed.
Kate and I took a cruise along the Daintree River, looking for crocodiles. We didn't see any. There were a few birds, and lots of trees, but no crocodiles -- not even any reptiles. The recent heavy rains had recently swollen the river, and apparently it had just come down from flood levels.
We drove back to Cairns and returned the van. After more than three weeks of use, we never gave it a name -- it was always just, "the van". I wasn't too sorry to see it go. Although driving ourselves gave us freedom, and we got to see lots of smaller towns that we would normally have skipped, I also found it to be isolating and claustrophobic at times. Fortunately, I don't see us doing any of self-driving while in SE Asia.
In other news, we dyed Kate's hair blue again, this time using two bottles of hair dye, and this time it stuck. She now has blue, blue hair.
We returned to Sydney to find everything very familiar. That was good, since we had plenty of errands to run: picking up our Vietnamese visas, getting vaccinations, selling unwanted gear, buying new gear, and making a ton of phone calls. This was our last taste of civilization before diving into the wilds of Southeast Asia, and we took advantage of it.
In the midst of our organizational frenzy, though, was the whole reason we'd flown back to Sydney: Mardi Gras. Or, to be more specific, the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Parade. It was a frenzy of good-looking men and not-so-good-looking women, and I'll write more about that later.
Kate and I celebrated our last night in Sydney with a fancy dinner overlooking the harbour. We had some delicious food and, as is our custom, critically tore apart every bite. As our palates broaden, we're turning into vicious food critics. We just need to remember to keep our voices down when the waiter walks by.
We planned to take the monorail back to central Sydney. As the doors opened, we saw that our car contained a Chinese family of four with each person sitting in a corner of the car. Suddenly they all stood up, laughing, and switched places. It was bizarre. Kate and I sat down, and she looked up at me with a quizzical expression on her face. "Chinese fire drill," I whispered, and it was all we could do to keep from rolling on the floor in hysterics.