Brady & The Buspasses - The World Tour

With sadness we leave Tasmania. We have had a tremendous time here. And that’s not just because it’s a beautiful island – our family have made this part of our trip something to remember. We just can’t thank them enough.

We are now heading towards Melbourne to do the Great Ocean road and the Melbourne Cup. At this stage it’s only right that I thank Dale, his Dad and his son Dave for the really fantastic horse racing and greyhound tips they have given me over the last two weeks. Some of us will be meeting again for the Melbourne Cup so it’s only right that I repay you with a hot tip of my own. Look out for this ‘fella’ - to put in your boxed trifecta.

Finally, I’ve got her under control. This is the prison at Port Arthur where the ‘transportation’ convicts were welcomed to Australia. Another little piece of heaven that mankind has carved out to behave like beasts.

And now to Orford and the best motel room view in the world. This is taken at dusk from our balcony whilst sipping chilled chardonnay. Ye cannae whack it.

Here we have Sian talking to a wallaby in the car park at Frecinet National Park. We walked from there to the outlook (Australians call them lookouts) point for Wineglass Bay. We wished we had a lot more time to spend in these parts.

And just before we returned to Somerset we drove from St Helens to the Bay of Fires. The Tasmanian landscape changes so rapidly you can get shocked into thinking you are somewhere else. This place is like the west coast of Harris – right down to the single track road and sheep. Sian decided it was time to show a bit of leg.

We have made our way south to Hobart – the nearest place to the Antartic you can get a cappuccino and chunky chicken pie.

Having regard to the global credit crisis we have had to moderate our on-the-move accommodation specifications. Our Hobart budget penthouse may not look much but it has great TV reception.

Perhaps I should retrace a few steps before we swerved southward.

This is Cradle Mountain where we had a splendid picnic at Dove Lake with Dale, Diane and Andy.

The only small blot on the day was missing the mini-bus into the National park. Sian and Andy were surprised that the bus did not stop at the nearby viewpoint they chose to visit 30 seconds before the bus arrived on time.

On our way to a serious bout of wine tasting in the Tamar Valley we called in at Mole Creek to examine the local wildlife. This is as nice as these little ‘devils’ get. They run about with a sort of shambolic shuffle before they pounce on their prey. As this blog may be read with small family members present I have omitted the picture of a gang of them ripping a rabbit to shreds.

After I comprehensively beat Dale (my niece Diane’s husband) at Australian rules longneck golf we set out for a day of wine tasting in the sunny north of the island. I cannot say much about what happened next as I became anaesthetised for medical reasons. Fortunately, we discovered a boot full of wine bottles when we got home (Somerset/Burnie) so at least someone had remained sensible.

My brother John and his partner Connie took us to the Nut at Stanley. It’s a volcanic stump which appears right in the middle of picture postcard white beaches. My family spent a lot of time ‘growing up’ here - so it’s quite special as well as beautiful.

The Tasmanian branch of my family has spent many years refining the small pleasures to be had whilst doing seemingly ordinary things. Here I am learning the art of ‘wine-fishing’. I have to say it does take the edge away from not catching fish.

I have been a little surprised at the amount of ‘concerned’ mail I have received about the exploits of ‘Danger-Woman’. Be assured – I have done everything possible to calm her wild urges but - believe me – when she gets that look in her eye nothing will stop her.

When we arrived at Dismal Swamp it looked like a nice rain forest sink hole with interesting plants and so forth. Little did I know it featured the ‘Dive-of Death’. Without pausing for breath Sian had her crash helmet on and was plunging, at break-neck speed down a vertical chute known for causing heart attacks and breaking bones.

On our way to Tasmania we had a long stopover at Sydney so we took ourselves to the opera house and Sydney harbour bridge for lunch at the Portobello café.

Due to its geographic location Australia is upside down. Most people already know that Aussies only stay on the planet due to gravity - which we invented - but don’t expect any gratitude. After extensive research I can now reveal that Aussies are not only upside down but back to front.

The condition reveals itself in many strange and unusual ways. Take this man for instance – notice how his pigtail has subtly changed position from the back of his head to his chin. Luckily this does not interfere with his superb piano playing skills.

We are staying in the spectacular home of Diane and Dale. This is the view from the window - it looks out over the Bass Straight.

On our first day Diane and her son Andy took us to nearby Table Cape (you see above). Here they grow tulips and have vistas wonderful to behold.

I now come to a shameful episode in our travels. Sian has let the team down badly.

Together with some family members we entered the world famous “Burnie 10” (a road race for elite athletes from around the globe). It was a glorious sunny day and we arrived at the starting line straining at the bit after several minutes of tai-chi warming-up procedures. The race went very well – we even managed to pass one of the wheelchairs (its battery had run out).

Towards the finish Sian, my buddy Dale and I – sportingly agreed we would cross the line together to scoop-up joint 3568th place. But just 10 yards from the line Sian suddenly sprinted ahead to clear the finishing line in front of us.

Dale and I are - this morning - making an application to the race authorities at Burnie Council to have Sian stripped of her medal for gross un-Australian behaviour.

Finally, this family picture was taken at a barbie. Next to me is my brother John and Sian is holding my great-great nephew Hamish. I’ll let you know all about the other wonderful people in future episodes.

We have been so lucky with fine sunny weather for the last week. Queenstown is surrounded by snow-capped hills. Due to a shortage of wine I woke up at 5am (normally 3am) – this is the view from our toilet window.

And this is from the balcony where the merest moothfie is had before dinner.

We took the full day bus tour to Milford Sound. Breathtaking scenery and more amazing pies at Te Anau comfort stop.

Before we set out on the very long drive to Christchurch Sian insisted on going to the bungy jumping. She’s now six foot seven and will hardly fit in the car.

Finally, a relaxing day in Christchurch. Close encounter with a tram. Next stop Tassie.

We have just arrived in sunny Queenstown and plan to stay here for a few days as we have been on the road in rugged country for a while.

So in the bin go the Kraft cheese sandwiches and down to the trendy waterfront we go for some cappuccino and light wine sipping amongst people who are clueless as to where the crutch in their trousers ought to be located.

But as we haven’t had an internet connection for a while I’ll just report on a few incidents as we made our way down the west coast.

After we landed we stayed a couple of days at Nelson (Tasman Bay) – very pleasant with well maintained art deco buildings.

Perhaps it’s not too delicate to report that Sian has been suffering a few (age related) memory lapses. As an aide-memoire she has taken to recording every “convenience” on her camera – that way she can retrace her steps when caught short.

No surprise – in one of the world’s most beautiful countries – we managed to find the most awful place. Cape Foulwind delivers everything the name suggests including NZ’s premier cement works.

It was nicer a few miles down the coast.

The west coast is ruggedly wild and we saw some spectacular blow-holes and rock formations at Punakaiki where we stopped for the night. The New Zealanders are very service orientated, they will quickly fill any gap in the market place. I was much impressed with the tasteful early-morning expired infant collection vehicle solution.

We treated ourselves to a semi-swish hotel at the Franz Josef glacier (magnificent) but we liked the Fox glacier better (wilder looking place).

Back to the hotel. Whilst cleaning my teeth in the bathroom I heard a torrent of curses coming from our Alps-view lounge. What she wasn’t going to do to the receptionist for providing a broken ‘remote-control’ to operate our state of the art Sony Bravia flat-screen telly. I’m saying nothing – here’s a picture of the ‘remote’ herself was trying to work the telly with. Any resemblance to a Tesco ‘value range’ 50 pence calculator is purely coincidental.

Anyway Sian cheered up when we happened upon a beach full of stupid bits of wood. It also had some wispy plants called ‘Tane’s eyebrows’ with a plaque which explained how they got the name. Her grandson’s name is Taine (Maori) so she is sure there is a connection.

taine

We had a fine sunny day to cross the Cook Strait.

Goodbye North

Hello South

I’m so accustomed to looking at maps with the north and south islands separate it was a surprise when the ferry from Wellington went north for most of the way – then it drops south to Picton so you end up no further south than when you get on in Wellington.

Looking cool on the boat brought a few challenges for Sian here she is working on the cockatoo look.

On the way to Nelson, where we plan a couple of days rest and recuperation, Sian insisted we visit the holy ground from whence our happiness springs.

There was an overwhelming vote in favour of the wooden Winnebago transport for our New Zealand adventure. However, having applied the Mugabe Zimbabwe vote adjusting factor I win – so it’s Datsun Sunny all the way.

Our starting point in NZ was a scenic area called the Coromandel Peninsula. Seemingly the people from Auckland like to come here at weekends. From my observations their favourite sport is getting drunk – I’m growing to like these kiwi folk.

We stayed in a small place called Hahei where you can dig out hot pools on the beach. In the evening we had a meal at a converted church which was having a wine tasting for the local business-folk. As couple after couple fell through the door it become clear that they had done a little wine tasting at home before the event. Sian was attracted to the chap wearing a rather format blue suit with flip flops and wandering hands.

Earlier in the day I had made an important bottle shaped acquisition in one of the small wild-west looking towns,

all of which have charity shops. Sian has already bought more stuff than will fit in the boot so we are thinking of hiring a trailer.

I know! You are asking the obvious question – well ask her – she just frowns at me.

I’m writing this in Wellington before we catch the ferry in the morning. We had to make a bit of a mad dash south (in north) so we can have more time on the south island. On the way down we stopped at the volcanic smelly places by Roturua. Here is Sian wearing her Salvation Army sawn-off anorak next to a traditional NZ “extreme-sport” vomit pool.

Sian has finally located somewhere to wash her smalls.

The next interesting feature in an otherwise grey rainy experience came at the edge of the Rangipo Desert (Rannoch Moor). The Angkor Wat Bakery is run by a delightful Cambodian family who have awards for making the best steak pies in NZ. Deservedly so - they are magic - I’ve done experiments to prove this is true. The family escaped from Pol Pot and spent five awful years on the Thai border in a refuge camp before getting a visa for NZ. Not all New Zealanders are happy about immigrants (regardless of pie making skills) as can be seen from the tank across the road with its gun trained on the bakery.

On the boat next.

We have swithered and dithered for months about whether to “do” New Zealand in a motor-home. I have to be honest and tell you that cost was a consideration – when we checked prices on the internet we discovered that even modest motor-homes with unfeasibly small toilets and pencil-thin beds were hideously expensive.

What we didn’t know about at the time was the power of local knowledge. I won’t go into all the details but I met an NZ man on the Sydney/Auckland flight who told me he could get a “real-home” style Winnebago at an affordable price. It’s located in prestige premises at our first stop - Thames - on the Coromandel Peninsula.

But - truth be told - Sian is somewhat reluctant – she might agree subject to us hiring a sewing machine so she can make new curtains for the cute windows.

This is a “Reality-Blog” – so you the voters will decide whether Sian and Tom tour New Zealand in this luxury motor-home or drive about in a boring old Datsun Sunny (all calls are monitored to ensure that you spend much more money than you intended).

We jumped on a 'tuk-tuk' for the first time last night and went up to the night market area on the Silom Road again. The waiter from the restaurant we had been in had to push it to start because the battery was flat. The driver needed to rev it like mad every time we stopped at the lights to make sure it didn't die on him again. We offered to push for a free ride! He was a great guy and we all found the whole thing very amusing. It was such fun that we came 'home' in one too. I noticed that, when we got to the hotel, the security guards didn't check it for bombs on board or underneath (as they do with the taxis)!

We bought a 'Prada' bag for £3 and an ‘Omega’ watch for Tom for £6! Then we ended up in a bar called Radio City which features - not pole dancers like all the surrounding venues - but Elvis and Tom Jones impersonators. A seven piece band came on dressed in black satin shirts and red satin trousers that were really, really good and belted out a lot of the old Commodores songs, a falsetto rendition of Night Fever (a la Barry Gibb) and a 'medley' of Beatles songs ......brilliant. Sadly we decided we couldn't wait for the Elvis impersonator to perform as we needed to get to bed reasonably early. I suspect we would have been there until the early hours otherwise if Tom hadn’t been firm about leaving as I had suddenly discovered the pleasures of Jack Daniels and coke! I told the lead singer in the interval that I was from Liverpool and how much I'd enjoyed his Beatles stuff. "Aaah! Lilipool..yes, yes" he said and shook my hand! He had a superb voice. I was thinking of Taine and India while I was bopping about in my seat (Tom refused to dance, of course). They would have been up disco dancing with India's little hips swaying from side to side (and perhaps a few aerobic exercise movements thrown in) and Taine would have been doing more grown up dance and acting like Mr Cool!

It's nearly 10 am here now. We have just had the usual wonderful breakfast on the open air terrace by the pool. It's cloudy and raining this morning but you can see the sun lurking behind the clouds and, of course, it's still really hot and humid.

At 5.30 pm this afternoon we fly to Sydney (9 hours) and, after a 2 hour wait, fly on to Auckland (3 hours). It will be l pm NZ time when we get there – heaven knows what time it will be to our bodies! It’s 16 degrees there today. A big change from the heat here but I suspect that we will feel instantly ‘at home’ in their climate! We collect a car at the airport and drive to a small place called Thames - which I think is about a little over an hour away towards the south east. It's just a motel stop-over and then we'll busk it from there. Our good friends, John and Patience (also from South Queensferry) are on holiday there too at the moment and we hope to meet up for a few ‘wee moothfies’ if our itineraries allow!

It's been so good here. I'm sad to leave. Everything has been perfect - it feels less threatening than walking round some areas of Edinburgh at night, the people are so smiley, helpful and enjoy a joke, the food has been a real treat, we haven't gone down with any 'lurgies', the city is sophisticated, exciting and full of wonderful places to see and travelling around is easy using the river boat and Sky Train services.

And finally (from Tom), I hope the authorities in NZ provide as many helpful notices as you find in Bangkok. (Dougie – you didn’t say you had been here). We’ll not have a state of the art internet connection in NZ but will do our best to let you know what we are doing.

In Bangkok you can eat some pretty strange things. In some pretty strange places. With some pretty strange people.

Our first and only real encounter with the monsoon came moments after we sat down at the Rut & Lek Chinese restaurant in – where else – Chinatown. The Rut and Lek does not exist during the day – it’s a pavement outside a jeweller shop. By night it’s bedlam with food.

Not long after we ordered – thunder and lightening – and rain so heavy buckets were floating under our feet in 30 seconds. But this did not stop business at the “Rut”. The staff just upped umbrellas and jumped about as Boss Lady the Queen Mother barked even louder commands.

All the food had to be got from across one of the busiest roads in Bangkok (where the QM’s kitchen was). At this moment of high drama Sian decided she needed a pee so a Chinese toy-boy was found to help her dodge the traffic there and back:

Even though scooters were casually driving through the restaurant; music was playing at ear splitting levels and people were balling and shouting at each other it really was a most enjoyable meal. I went for the grilled sea-bass with lime and peanut topping instead of the splattered pigs head.

The evening before we had a fine Thai meal (very tasty) at Cabbages and Condoms. It’s part of a family planning project supported by the queen (if the crown fits wear it). Implausible as it may seem it’s Father Xmas and his assistant and not me that’s made of condoms.

And finally, on the subject of sex and food this is Sian on the mince with a lady-boy at the Wat Pho. I am not at liberty to say of whom this reminded her.