I’m happy. Very, very happy. It’s that particular brand of happiness where if I wasn’t overweight or desperately unfit, I’d consider performing a backflip to express my mercurial state.
When I undertook the Twitchhiker project in March, it was to satisfy my curiosity – to see if social media in general and Twitter in particular was capable creating a physical network that would allow me to travel around the world. On the way we raised thousands for charity: water and plenty of awareness of Twitter.
It was a tremendous adventure, enjoyed not only by myself but those who assisted me (and I dare say some who followed me, if only to see if I ended up mauled by a bear), and while I struggled with the relentless schedule at the time, I look back at it with nothing but fondness and pride. Since then I’ve done a smattering of public speaking, recounting my travels in a montage of photos and tall tales – and while I considered writing a more in-depth account of my travels immediately afterwards, it was ultimately more important to settle back into the slog of everyday life and earn what I laughingly call a wage.
After all this time has passed, I thought that was the end of it. So I’m thrilled to teeny tiny bits to announce I’ll be writing a book about Twitchhiker. It’s all a bit of a blur right now – the offer came barely a week ago and the deadlines are very tight – but I’m so excited about revisiting my journey with the benefit of perspective and a good night’s sleep.
I’ll tell you more about it as I find out, but for now it’s time to dig out the notes and the A3 envelope stuffed with all my flight details, trinkets and room cards (the plastic, easily replaced type of course) and turn the clock back eight months.
I thought I’d already posted a peek into my final evening in Sydney last month, but checking back I only captured the night noodle market on TwitPic. It’s now a little late in the day, or indeed the following month, but the market is certainly still worth a mention.
Sydney is a foodie’s paradise. You don’t have to spend long there before it becomes apparent the city has a truly world class selection of cuisine on offer (except for oysters, perhaps – I don’t like to talk about them anymore). And because of Australia’s proximity to what is our Far East, there’s a strong Asian flavour running throughout the city’s kitchens.
The night noodle market is an annual event taking place in October – the city’s Hyde Park is boxed in by stalls that tease the tummy with all manner of whiffs and sniffs and smells. I was alone so I quietly plumped for some chicken dumplings and milled amongst the crowds – there was probably a thousand people enjoying the weekday evening in Sydney, splashing a drop of vino and slurping noodles from cartons.
I’m not sure the UK could pull something similar off; two dozen burger vans selling pork sandwiches in gravy while you crack open a warm can of Stella – it isn’t quite as seductive, is it?
Another day, another post that has no place on what I laughingly refer to as a travel blog.
But again, it’s an important post. Yesterday we had bipolar. Today, cancer. It’s chuckles all the way, kids.
It’s not that grim, honest. Movember is a movement that began in Australia some years ago; those involved have the whole month of November in which to grow a moustache. And that’s it. When there’s a noticeable rise in the number of dudes looking like they’ve stumbled out of Life On Mars (ladies you’re welcome to get involved, but I’m not saying a word), people ask why and there’s the opportunity to explain. Movember is all about raising awareness of men’s health issues in general, and raising money for prostate cancer charities in particular.
Millions have been raised by this apathetic attitude towards the top lip. I met a couple of the guys involved in setting Movember up when they visited Newcastle last month – not only can they drink a camel under the table, but they’re passionate about their cause.
So here I am, a Mo Bro for the next 28 days. Fortunately if there’s one thing I can do very well, it’s grow facial hair. It’ll be as thick and luxurious as a Swiss forest at nightfall. But don’t think this will be easy. It’s won’t. I’ll want to hack the bastard off after a fortnight. This is going to drive me insane. So two things you can do for me:
- donate a little money towards this brilliant cause – a couple of pounds or dollars would be great, perhaps more since it’s been seven months since I pestered you for donations
- help me choose a moustache style; there are a couple of days left before I’ll have to make a firm choice, and I can’t decide what to do with my follicles. If any particular style catches your eye, let me know:
I really don’t have to write this post. Really. And to be perfectly honest with you, I’m not sure why I am. The topic certainly has no place on a travel blog, and it has the potential to do me more harm than good. Then again, that’s rarely stopped me from opening my mouth before inserting both feet. (more…)
Filed under: travel | Tags: charles darwin, wolgan valley, wolgan valley resort and spa, wollemi national park
I seemed to have inadvertently stumbled into paradise.
Not a generic, unspecified paradise of sun, sand and Gillian Anderson lathering my back in lotion while whispering filth in my ear, but somewhere very rugged, natural, historical and real. And I hardly arrived here by accident – I’m three hour’s drive from Sydney, miles from the nearest town. This is a region of Australia that few if any tourists ever, ever stray so far from the coast to enjoy.
The Wolgan Valley Resort and Spa is a AUD$125 million development by Emirates. Surrounded by the steep fists of the Blue Mountains in the Wollemi National Park, the resort only opened a fortnight ago. There are no towering skyscrapers of ugly punching holes in the skyline, just 40 single story villas scattered across a hillside. Emirates have been heavily involved in restoring indigenous species to the area; of the 4,000 acres occupied by the site, the buildings only cover two per cent of the land.
Right now I’m sat in my own private suite, the most sumptuous accommodation I have seen in all my days. To my right, my personal lap pool. Ahead of me, an original homestead settled in 1832, in the valley Darwin explored while collecting geological samples in the area. It’s there, through my window, not a minute’s walk away.
I wasn’t expecting internet access since there’s no mobile signal this deep into the valley, but the resort has wi-fi installed in every suite. Splendid. So before lunch and a tour (I’m desperate to visit that homestead and indulge in its wonderful history) I thought I’d pop by and share this rather wonderful place with you.
Filed under: travel | Tags: crave sydney, fort denison, oysters, shark island, sydney, sydney harbour, sydney international food festival, world chef showcase
I’d never considered Sydney as a destination for foodies until I arrived here. Obviously any major city attracts its fair share of renowned restaurants, but this place is teaming with them; the Good Food Guide 2010 is like a telephone directory. This is a place that loves food.
As part of Crave Sydney, the International Food Festival has hosted the World Chef Showcase this weekend. Chefs from around the world arrived at Star City to demonstrate the fine art of food in front of attendees; imagine Ready Steady Cook without the £5 bag of groceries, the contestants who can’t chop an onion or Ainsley Harriott mugging for the camera, and you’ll realise this is nothing like Ready Steady Cook at all and I’ve wasted your precious time making the comparison.
Instead what you have is an astounding line-up of the world’s unsurpassed kitchen talents; I may not be a professional foodie, but I know Rainer Becker is one of the best in the business. And I may not have a well-developed palette, but when Neil Perry discussed the composition of his 3 Shot Chicken (a shot of soy, one of chilli and another of Coopers Pale Ale) as I was simultaneously dribbling the free sample down my last clean shirt, it all made sense; so the portions weren’t the size of my Nana’s chicken dinner but if I took the time to actually taste my food, I’d discover something quite wonderful.
The culinary education didn’t end there. A group of us took to Circular Quay to tour the four islands in Sydney Harbour; Crave Sydney is the first time the public has been able to tour all four on a water taxi, hopping from one to another. We ate lunch at Fort Denison, a flattened length of rock on which defenses were built to protect the city (not that it was always flat; most of the island was quarried in the 19th Century to build the nearby Circular Quay).
Despite the remote position in the harbour, island life isn’t dull according to one grizzled member of staff welcoming visitors:
“You see a lot when you’ve worked here a long time. Sharks, whales, dolphins. Even saw a body once. That was interesting.”
As we sat down to lunch, writer Graeme Reid told us how his father remembered the scene a very different way; he described the harbour as once been home to so many sharks, you felt you could walk across their backs from one side of the harbour to another. Like James Bond in Live and Let Die, I imagined.
I played the lunch card safe with Gorgonzola tart and egg linguine, but Graeme and our host Tonia opted for oysters. Apparently the oysters served up were the best Australia had to offer. That’s all very well, I said, but they look like a mouthful of flu in a shell. I ate one anyway – you can’t talk with authority on a matter through apathy and inaction – and while the experience wasn’t as completely revolting as I had suspected it would be, I can safely safely say oysters won’t be troubling my menu selection in the near future.
There are plenty of new photos of the island hopper tour on Flickr – let me know what you think!
Filed under: travel | Tags: crave sydney, rockpool, spice temple, sydney opera house
I wasn’t expecting my flight from New York to Sydney to take quite so long, certainly no longer than a flight from London to Sydney. The possibility warps logic a little; after all; you’ve already flew across 3,500 of Atlantic Ocean – surely that puts you closer to Oz, right? Of course it doesn’t; from London to Sydney is a little shy of 9,600 miles, while NYC to Sydney is just under 10,000 miles. Approaching Sydney from the states means crossing the International Data Line and flying several thousand flying further on into the Eastern hemisphere.
Still, I thought I’d feel worse after 29 hours of travelling, but I seem to be developing a resistance to tiredness and jetlag. I have no problems accepting the time difference; you lose all bearings while sealed in a pressurised steel tube for hours on end so it doesn’t seem unreasonable to accept you’ve lost a day and it’s light outside instead of dark. What I do struggle with is my perception of when I started travelling. I left New York on Thursday lunchtime – by the time I arrived in Sydney yesterday morning, that seemed like weeks ago. The routine of sleep provides reasonably fixed bookends to my days, and when I lose these points of reference even recent events are distorted.
So here I am, my first trip to Australia. It took me 15 minutes to have a shave once I arrived – I had to keep checking the view out the hotel window to confirm that yes, that was the Sydney Opera House looking up at me. I’ve yet to see much of the city, save for a brief mosey around the opera house and into the Botanical Gardens at Circular Quay.
The opera house is obviously known worldwide for those pristine white teeth that bite into Sydney skyline, but close up the building is even more fascinating. The structure is covered in over a million ceramic tiles tinged with creams and greens, rather the uniform crisp white skin we imagine; there are patterns within patterns, more as you move closer and closer:
Last night was spent dining at Rockpool Bar & Grill, a world-class restaurant spread across the lobby of a former bank. The original Art Deco fittings provided a decadent setting to a venue that has 9,000 bottles of wine stashed away in the original bank vault. Downstairs in Spice Temple, fiercely delicious aromas of Asian cuisine thickened the air as our group sampled cocktails based on the Chinese calendar; I drank a whole Horse, and it’s not often you can say that.
