Oz Experience

Our next stop was Mount Arapiles, for a spot of rock-climbing. And, no - before you people get all excited - I didn't go. We watched for a little while, eating grapes in the sun and chatting to Monika until Caro decided to go to the toilet. "Ahhhh - it's just down the road on the left there," said Rosco. So off we went. Down the road. Just a bit of a way. Then a bit further. Then round a bend. Then further. 

"I wonder if he meant there's a spot you can wee in the BUSHES, down there on the left?" asked Caro. I shrugged, and before I knew it, Caro was crouching down behind a bush, flashing her little white bottom to the road while I kept a look out for cars. 

Still, we kept on going. There was no hurry to get back, and besides, Caro said that it hadn't been that satisfying, peeing while stressed. Eventually we noticed another straggler behind us, but so far behind we couldn't tell who it was.  At this point we found the toilets!! "JEEEE-sus!!" complained Caro and we both made our way over, while Caro waved in a "toilets this way" sort of manner to whomever was following us. On returning from the toilet, I heard the unnerving cry of the kookaburra, laughing in the trees above me. I wondered what was amusing him, and if he'd peeked at my willy. 

We made it back to the bus about a half hour later, with the other toilet-seeker about 15 minutes after that. It turned out to be an American who complained loudly to Rosco that the toilets were "at least a couple of k's away." Rosco then added insult to injury by driving everyone else to the toilet once the rock-climbers had finished, but as often happens, having something for us to bitch about brought us together. Caro and I got chatting to the American contingent on the bus, Kim and Ann from Chicago and Jenna from Boston. They gave us some useful tips on the USA, including telling Caro where to shop. Damn them. 

Mount Arapiles marks the start of the mountain range known as The Grampians, hard rugged rocks that surge out of the green landscape, like something that's grown there. Once again, it was fun just to look out at the landscape as it flashed past. But also, we had Australian radio going. "Okay, call in if you have an interesting story about the death of a pet," the DJ said. How I wish we had shows like this on UK radio. (The most tragic story was of the guy whose goldfish got run over.) 

Meanwhile, Ann and Kim were sitting next to Caro and they seemed to getting along very well. They had discovered that universal girl language of make-up, clothes and mags. Quite frankly, after about half an hour, Caro could have been talking to Mechelle and Lisa Brown. 

Now that we'd spent a couple of days together we'd also had time to assess the rest of the bus too. There were some English girls who were ok, but very quiet. A couple of them were very young and spent most of the trip flirting wildly with the young guys at the front of the bus, but in a kind of annoying oh-jesus-just-get-it-over-with-and-shag sort of way. The guys themselves really got on our nerves, one of them - a Swiss guy was ok, but Klaus, a German and Anthony from Ulster were SERIOUSLY in love with themselves. Too cool to listen to anything but boring depressing shit, too seen-it-all to get excited by nature and too stupid to live, quite frankly. 

Then there were the older Germans - Monika, who we'd already found to be funny and interesting, a teacher from Cologne on sabbatical - and a couple named Kirsten and Thomas. They were clinical psychologists and seemed very earnest. This is probably our prejudice showing here though. I mean, let's face it, we've been trained to think that all Germans are a) humourless and b) naturists.

But it's not true! Well at least the first part. I couldn't say about the second. But the more we talked to Kirsten and Thomas, the more we found that they would say something, then sort of blink at you with their earnest little expressions then you'd suddenly realise... "Hey... that was quite bitchy..." Then you'd notice them cackling away together. So there you go. Germans are bitchy and funny and nasty. And there I was thinking that Caroline had cornered the market. 

The next stop was a sinkhole. Rosco kept showing us these things which are caused by volcanoes, I think. I wasn't really listening as it sounded too much like 3rd year geography to me, and besides I wanted to find out how a goldfish becomes a road fatality. However, the sinkhole was cooler than you would think. It was this massive round hole in the ground, with trees and ivy growing all the way down, water dripping down one side, and beautiful lush vegetation at the bottom.  It was hard not to be impressed by the majesty of it all.

"It smells like the monkey house," said Jenna. 

Unfortunately it's true. It's a sad fact that a great number of nature-intensive sights of interest smell of week-old urine. Kind of makes me wish I had invested in a zoom lens for my camera really.