I’ll skip the introductions today. If you don’t know me by now, you will never never…. Oo-oo-oo, I almost got trapped in some song lyrics there. Anyway, read my other blog posts or my About Me page if you’re curious about me. And who wouldn’t be?
Today’s travel notes
The Travelling Companion has been playing around in the garden recently, digging and uprooting and planting and generally getting muddy. I have observed her antics from the sidelines, stepping in to suggest the occasional photograph.
It’s struck me just how beautiful we worms are, and our lesser brethren too. So I’ve decided to treat you to some photographs and a movie of us.
Traveller’s tip
If you can’t travel far to find some beauty, try digging around in the dirt instead.
The book I’m in
Troy, Fall of Kings, by David & Stella Gemmell.
Yes, I am still in the same book as last week. The TC has been quite busy, so she has not done much reading. This is a good thing, because it’s a comfortable book.
The photos
Me and Peg in the garden with Dianella.
Centipedes and slugs in Sydney
A centipede on a stone tile. This brave brother worm ventured into the Travelling Companion’s kitchen. He is just a common-or-garden centipede, perhaps a couple of centimetres long.
Centipedes and slugs in Sydney
The next dude (below) is awe-inspiring. He is a blue centipede, dubbed Scolopendra by some. This one is about 5 centimetres long. Beware, not all worms are as friendly as me. Centipedes are predators, and they can bite humans too. He was safely hidden in the soil amongst the roots of some Agapanthus plants, until he was so rudely uprooted. Here is a good view of his back end at bottom left, with his head disappearing into a hole at top right:
Centipedes and slugs in Sydney
He moves fast, this dude, and the TC had trouble getting a good shot. Below is her attempt to capture his head. You can just make out the lighter blue head and the two darker blue antennae at bottom right of this picture:
Centipedes and slugs in Sydney
And here’s a video. Alas, the TC did not excel in the making of this movie, but it’s a good laugh as well as giving you some idea of the beauty of the worm. The TC says she didn’t know the video was on, and she was trying to take a still photo. Hah!
Here’s sister slug, aka a tiger slug, a spotted leopard slug and a great grey slug. So many names for such an unassuming creature. I’m making her an honorary worm for this blog post:
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.
Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.
From time to time, I’ll say something meaningful. Like a t-shirt.
Today’s travel notes
It’s a pressing question in Sydney these days:
Where can I get a good chocolate?
The Travelling Companion and I have been scouting around to find the best chocolate shops and cafés in Sydney. As a conscientious worm, I feel it’s my civic duty to let you into some of Sydney’s chocolate secrets.
Traveller’s tip
Head to the nearest Max Brenner shop forthwith. Because, as Napoleon is reported to have said when asked why he consumed so much chocolate, it is just yummy.
The book I’m in
Troy, Fall of Kings, by David & Stella Gemmell.
The photos
Guylian has just opened a spanking new chocolate café in Circular Quay. I was there last week, to check out this new addition to the Sydney chocolate scene.
Me at Guylian’s:
The TC was not overly impressed with the chocolate at Guylian’s. She’s a bit particular about her chocolate, is our TC. Rumour has it they plan to open a second shop in The Rocks very soon. Here’s the one in Circular Quay:
Chocolate in Sydney
I go along with the TC and recommend Max Brenner in Manly. This chocolate café is a must for all chocolate lovers. It’s right in Manly Wharf. Just step off the Manly Ferry and straight into heaven:
Chocolate in Sydney
Here’s some of the fare the TC and her friends saw spread before them at Max Brenner:
Chocolate in Sydney
A Lindt Chocolat Café would be my second choice. There are two in central Sydney. The one in Martin Place resides in lofty elegance with Fabergé and a number of big names in the fashion world. I don’t have a photo to show you. (As you can probably guess from the attire in my picture, high fashion is not a world I frequent.) But the TC says that the dark hot chocolate drink is divine. The shop in Martin Place was the first ever Lindt Chocolat Café in the world.
Then they opened another in Darling Harbour, where the dark hot chocolate and rich cakes meet with equal approval from the TC:
Chocolate in Sydney
As well as the cafés, Sydney has a number of take-away chocolate shops. Here’s Haigh’s in the Strand Arcade in George Street:
Chocolate in Sydney
And here’s Darrell Lea also in George Street, on the corner with King:
Chocolate in Sydney
Earlier I mentioned the snooty neighbours of the Lindt café in Martin Place. Darrell Lea has the new Apple Store for a neighbour. Handy if you need a quick iPhone consultation while you wait for your chocolate order:
Apple in Sydney
Choc tactics
I’ve inhabited many a health book which warns you off chocolate. It’s reputedly bad for your skin, bad for your weight, bad for your teeth and your heart… But I’ve also wormed my way through the online archives where people are saying chocolate is good for you. They say there’s no proof that chocolate causes pimples and it may even help to prevent tooth decay by killing off the bacteria.
Confusion reigns supreme. As it usually does.
Perhaps we can learn from history. Chocolate has been around a while. The Central Americans were the first to cultivate the cocoa tree, 1400 years ago. Even way back then, no-one knew what to make of the gift of the bean. Was it the curse of the Aztecs or the food of the gods? Quetzalcoatl, a god himself, was disgraced for passing the secret of chocolate down to humans. The humans, though, were suitably impressed with the gift — especially as it was a powerful aphrodisiac. So much so, that some societies forbade women to use it. Cocoa beans became a strong trading currency. One pumpkin was valued at four cocoa beans. One hundred beans could buy a slave.
Then the Spanish conquered Mexico, and took the magic bean back to Europe. But the Spaniards decided to keep it a secret. So when Dutch and English sailors found these strange dark little objects on captured Spanish ships, they mistook them for sheep droppings and turfed them overboard in disgust.
The rest of Europe finally caught on. Chocolate became the drink of royalty. Doctors recommended it as a cure for almost everything. But then, once again, people started to look askance at the stuff. It was not quite kosher — a drug from deepest, darkest America, an aphrodisiac at that, and perhaps its medicinal properties were a bit too potent for civilised mores.
Confusion was reigning supreme then too. All hail confusion.
Chocolate contains phenyl ethylamine, phenol, phosphorus, magnesium, theobromine, and trace levels of anandamide. Uh-huh…? Phenyl ethylamine is a mood elevator which acts directly on your central nervous system. At low levels, it makes you feel good. But it can also make you paranoid and it is addictive. Anandamide acts on the same pleasure receptors in the brain as marijuana. The other ingredients raise energy levels, increase concentration, improve your mood, and do other good things.
Me and Peg with chocolates by Jessica Walker, Belgian Chocolate Seashells and Coles Belgian mint chocolate:
Chocolate in Sydney
What about the belief that chocolate is a potent love potion? Both Casanova and Sherlock Holmes downed mugs of cocoa for breakfast. So we must deduce that chocolate builds stamina in the brain cells as well as in the other bits. Elementary, my dear worm.
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.
Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.
From time to time, I’ll say something meaningful. Like a t-shirt.
Today’s travel notes
Noisy creatures, birds. The Travelling Companion has been up and about, recording the dawn chorus in Sydney’s Northern Beaches. She also found a rather garrulous magpie in Curl Curl. I’ve put some videos on my YouTube site and also posted them below.
There are no photographs of me this time. Sorry to disappoint. I try to avoid appearing in the same space as a bird. On one occasion I did get perilously close to Jonathan, a seagull. There are some pictures to prove it in my blogpost about Surfers Paradise.
Traveller’s tip
The early worm catches the birdsong.
The book I’m in
Cry No More, by Linda Howard.
Linda writes really comfortable books.
The videos
The sun is still below the horizon in Sydney’s Northern Beaches. I don’t know the name of the first bird you’ll hear. Then there’s a raven’s mournful cry and a butcherbird’s yodel:
It’s a bit lighter now. The kookaburras are always naively cheerful this early in the morning. The currawongs chime in, and then the rosellas utter their first chirps of the day:
Here’s the sunrise, pretty enough if you like that sort of thing, with the rosellas still chirping and squawking away (they do that most of the day, I’ve noticed):
A magpie might draw a laugh and a bit of grudging admiration with his performance in this video. The hissing in the background is the sea at Curl Curl:
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.
Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.
From time to time, I’ll say something meaningful. Like a t-shirt. Keep an eye out for the witty but subtle use of puns.
Today’s travel notes
Me, Peg and Hand went for a bit of a stroll today. You’ll remember Hand. We met in Surfer’s Paradise, and he has been one of the Travelling Companion’s companions ever since. I wrote about it here.
Getting back to our stroll. Along the way, we stopped to hang out with Blue. And now I’d like to enlist your help.
Blue is a tall, wide-spreading tree. There are a number like him, in and around Sydney. At this time of year he becomes encrusted with showy red flowers. That’s why I call him “Blue” — because of the red flowers. (Australians have an obscurely endearing habit of calling people with red hair “Blue”. I think it’s their attempt for world recognition in the eccentricity category. Or something.)
How can you help? By telling me what sort of tree Blue is. I’ve searched diligently through the TC’s books but have not been able to pin down Blue’s family. Please take a look at the pictures below.
Traveller’s tip
Trees don’t travel much, but they are good company.
The book I’m in
Poltergeist, by Kat Richardson.
The photos
Me and Peg out on a limb with Blue:
Me and Peg out on a limb with Blue
Hand seeks out the darker corners where fleshy greyish-pink weirdos congregate. As you might have gathered, I’m not much of a botanist and don’t know what these plants are called either:
Hand skulking around in the undergrowth
Zooming out to show a bit more of Blue’s red floral showiness. This outburst happens in late July and early August.
Can you identify this red-flowered tree?
The whole tree:
Can you identify this red-flowered tree?
Hand got a bit out of hand, so I had to tether him at the base of Blue’s trunk. He felt quite at home, because some equally unsalubrious characters had been there before us.
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.
Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.
From time to time, I’ll say something meaningful. Like a t-shirt.
Today’s travel notes
I’ve been spending some time with flora and Peg recently. You’ll notice me, Peg and flora in the photographs below.
Have you ever been to Cape Town in South Africa? There’s some similarity between the Sydney vegetation and the Cape fynbos. Both specialise in low-key, low-down beauty. It can be hard to find, especially if you’re not a worm. But once you’ve moved past the drabness and started looking at the detail, there are some fairly pretty things to see.
This blog post is about Sydney. I’ll dig up some of the TC’s photographs of the Cape fynbos and write about it soon too. I promise. I know you’ll be eagerly awaiting my next post.
A worm’s eye view is also interesting from another perspective. Often, I get to see the bits that the plants are least proud of.
Traveller’s tip
Don’t ever let yourself be photographed from below. It’s a very unflattering angle.
The book I’m in
Dead Famous, by Ben Elton.
A tip for my fans: Look out for my appearance on the next hip, bigged-up and mad-for-it reality TV show. I’ve had so many requests you’d hardly, like, believe and hey I’ll make my choice soon. One survivor, that’ll be me. I’m, like, dead sure of that.
The photos
Me and Peg hanging out under a rocky overhang with flora:
Sydney winter flora
♥ As a special treat for you the faithful reader, the rest of the photographs are taken from the bottom looking up. That’s my usual perspective on life. It’s what keeps me so humble. ♥
The least flattering end of a bee:
Sydney winter flora
Another bee derriere:
Sydney winter flora
The underside of Old Man Banksia:
Another banksia I do believe, but there’s the faint possibility that I may be wrong:
Sydney winter flora
Some cone clones:
Sydney winter flora
A spray of grass:
Sydney winter flora
It’s difficult to make a flower look bad, even from the bottom looking up:
Sydney winter flora
Another distressingly pretty flower seen from down under:
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.
Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.
I’ll keep it meaningful. Like a t-shirt.
Today’s travel notes
We passed through Goulburn last weekend. Goulburn is a city (it has a couple of cathedrals) in New South Wales, Australia. It’s kind of a detour between Sydney and Canberra. At least, that’s how I’ve always thought of it.
My impressions? “Oh no, what am I doing here?” closely followed by “Ah yes, that was good”.
First we went to the outskirts of the town (yes, I do know it’s a city but it’s rather small) to find Drool. He’s our latest acquisition — a rather fetching gargoyle. There’s a photograph somewhere below. He hales from the Menduni Garden Artistry centre, 26-28 Gulson Street, Goulburn. I’d recommend a visit if you’re in the area. You’re greeted with big smiles, strong local accents and lots of variety, from devilish gargoyles to lightly-swaying giant emus and everything between.
Then we hit Goulburn in search of lunch. We found that and a lot of impressive architecture too.
Traveller’s tip
A warm worm is a happy worm.
Recommended restaurant
The Roses Cafe, 10 Montague Street, Goulburn, NSW.
Great pies and cheese pastries, fresh tasty salads, superb florentines with lots of nuts and stodge and a good layer of chocolate. Faultless service.
The book I’m in
I have just emerged from Falls the Shadow, by William Lashner. Alas, the TC (she with whom I travel) yanked me out when I was only half way through the book. I’m guessing she grew tired of it. I couldn’t help noticing this bit before I left, because I found it strangely apposite. It’s something said to the lawyer who is the anti-hero of the book, with his reply:
“You’re an insignificant worm.”
“Yes I am,” I said cheerfully, “on a useless piece of rock hurtling through a universe devoid of rhyme or reason.”
I suspect that Goulburnians might often hear the phrase “an insignificant town in the middle of nowhere”, or words to that effect. Goulburnians could reply with something like the lawyer’s response above.
Or maybe, like me, they would reply:
“Yes, but that’s irrelevant when you’re as good-looking as me.”
The photos
Me at the fountain in Belmore Park, Goulburn:
Me at the glasshouse in Belmore Park:
St Peter’s and St Paul’s Catholic cathedral (it’s just one building, probably named by someone in dire need of saintly appeasement):
St Saviour’s Anglican cathedral:
The Big Merino, one of Australia’s famous “big things”. They say you can go inside to buy souvenirs and to see the world through the ram’s eye at the top. I didn’t do that. This dude is more than 15 metres tall and weighs 97 tonnes:
The Goulburn Club, established 1877:
The inviting open door of the Goulburn Club:
The Roses Cafe has a narrow shop front, but is long and spacious inside, modern in hues of pink and purple:
A row of buildings in downtown Goulburn:
Get closer to me baby:
Technical College AD 1900, now the Goulburn Regional Conservatorium. If you peer inside, you’ll see lovely old wooden doors and staircase:
Drool the gargoyle:
A worm’s eye view
This section is for me to put things that are not necessarily relevant but meant something to this worm at the time. Here’s a shot of the dawn before we set out on the trip:
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while my TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.
I’ll keep it meaningful. Like a t-shirt.
Today’s travel notes
I’ve spent the last few days in Surfers Paradise on the Gold Coast. That’s in Queensland, Australia, dudes. I spent most of my time tucked away with a book, because the Travelling Companion was working. Still, we did get out and about. The TC is depressingly awake at ungodly hours of the morning.
My impressions? Laid-back luxury.
Surfers Paradise is treacly-beautiful. Chocolate-box stuff. And never mind “Surfer’s Paradise”, it’s definitely a shopper’s paradise.
Did we come away with the mandatory souvenir? Oh yes. Though I have to concede here that we avoided the usual bit of arty attire. Instead, we acquired “Dracula’s Crawling it’s alive! Hand”. It’s noise-activated and comes with an SM-type leash. This souvenir I approve of. It suits the TC to a T.
The Gold Coast is about 45 minutes’ flight from Sydney. We flew Virgin Blue — highly recommended. Straight up, a bit of a swoop around some thundery cloud-peaks, then back down for a fast landing. Do it at sunset for maximum view-value, if you’re into that kind of thing.
Once you’re in the Gold Coast, there are only two things you need to know: “Beach Side” and “Dry Side”. Once you understand that these are the two sides of the Gold Coast Highway, you can get anywhere any time.
We didn’t do the big xxx-world attractions. We did do the “Haunted House”. Clever disorientation techniques, mirrors, uneven flooring and sticky dangling face-stroking bits in the dark had the desired effect on the TC. I was safely tucked inside a book in a bag, but I felt the tremors and heard the hesitant giggles. This is where we found Hand.
Travel tip
A peg comes in handy when you’re travelling. Use it to seal your bag of coffee. Or just to hang out with. Like I’m doing in the photos.
Recommended restaurant
The Tandoori Place, 30 Laycock Street, Surfers Paradise. (Web site.)
Delicious food and winning service.
The book I’m in
Sleep, Pale Sister, by Joanne Harris.
The photos
Me walking on the wild side (Jonathon Livingstone S was a bit close for comfort):
Me hanging out with some fishermen, an ibis, Jonathan and Peg:
Me and Peg on Neptune’s chair:
Pre-dawn, and nobody is awake but me, the TC and an ibis:
Surfers Paradise (that’s what it says):
Dawn over Surfers Paradise:
The main drag in Surfers Paradise, with Neptune’s chair:
Just some of the shops:
Hand — his complete handle is “Dracula’s Crawling it’s alive! Hand”:
Haunted House (Hand’s erstwhile home):
Q1, the tallest residential building in the world — that’s its claim:
A worm’s eye view
Dawn on the beach:
Write your letters in the sand — a wave washing over a footprint:
Other travelogues of note
Kamil‘s travel photography blog. Aaaasome, he’s been kite-surfing.
Jessicaca found herself in Surfers Paradise during Schoolies week, and left. Oh dear oh dear, you poor thing.
Shah thinks Surfers Paradise is Australia’s version of Miami. I’ve got news for you: Miami is but a pale imitation 😉
Austin has some golden-hued photos to complement my silvery snaps.
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while my TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.
I’ll keep it meaningful. Like a t-shirt.
Today’s travel notes
Yesterday I took a round trip down Australia’s east coast. We started off just north of Sydney and drove through the city, past Wollongong to Kiama, Berry and Kangaroo Valley, then through Mittagong back to Sydney.
My impressions? Just out of Sydney yet so very different.
It’s an easy day’s drive. You’re never more than two hours away from the city, but of course there are lots of unavoidable scenic views, lunch opportunities and shopping stops. These tend to slow you down, so do take them into account. In my experience, your round-trip velocity depends largely upon your companions. My Travelling Companion is a bit of a liability in this respect.
The previous paragraph notwithstanding, I did enjoy the views. There are some good photos below, including some of me suspended in the usual fashion over some breathtaking drop. There was also a bit of wildlife, including those big furry grasshoppers*, your common-or-garden sulphur-crested cockatoos, the wilder black cockatoos, a coupla kookaburras, plus galahs, ravens and butcher birds.
Also along the side of the road was the occasional self-service kiosk, where you can take fudge or potatoes or whatever and leave the money in return. Honesty rocks!
* “Furry grasshoppers” — That’s what we locals call the kangaroos 🙂
A word of explanation: worm or caterpillar?
Some of my readers may be concerned about the difference between a worm and a caterpillar, and in particular you may be wondering which one I am.
In my experience, caterpillars are ephemeral and fickle creatures, apt to take flight when things get tricky. Your humble worm is here to stay.
Travel tip
Never underestimate the return trip.
Recommended restaurant
Berrylicious cafe, 89 Queen Street, Berry.
Excellent hamburgers, a variety of breads and some good options for vegetarians.
The book I’m in
The Radiant Seas, by Catherine Asaro.
The photos
Me suspended over the drop at Bulli Lookout, with Wollongong in the distance. Here’s a tip — if you’re coming from Sydney down the Princes Highway (route 1) towards Wollongong, ignore the first turnoff labelled “Bulli Lookout”. It takes you to a private hotel and an inferior lookout point. Instead, drive past the hotel or take the second turnoff to Bulli Lookout. Anyway, here’s me and the view:
Me waiting for the blowhole to blow at Kiama:
FYI, here’s a “duh” moment — a sign next to the blowhole says something like this:
“Danger. Do not go beyond this point. Deep hole and blowhole.”
Me not getting wet:
Me at the drive-through bottle store in Berry. Check out the hubcaps on the wall:
Kiama Post Office:
Kiama outcrop behind the blowhole, and the blue blue sea:
In the hills approaching the town of Kangaroo Valley:
More of those hills (do you see what I mean about the TC being a bit of a liability with respect to stopping for photographs of anything that moves or doesn’t move):
Hampden Bridge, outside the town of Kangaroo Valley:
A worm’s eye view
You’ll see some pictures taken from a worm’s viewpoint in my earlier blog posts too. Now I’ve decided to put this sort of picture in a special section.
Kiama rock looks volcanic, with lots of small cosy holes:
Autumn leaves in Berry:
Brother caterpillar tripping the light fantastic (on plastic sheeting in Berrylicious Cafe):
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, viz 95 HBM 80-1. Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while my TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.
I’ll keep it meaningful. Like a t-shirt.
Today’s travel notes
Today I’ve been in Manly, haunt of surfers and rollerbladers on the east coast of Australia just north of Sydney.
My impressions? Ramshackle charm plus lots of action.
It’s all happening in Manly. Rollerblading, skate boarding, surfing, diving, snorkelling, street markets, skid row sidling up to millionaire’s lane.
The ride on the Manly Ferry is one of the most beautiful in the world. The boat takes half an hour to wend its way from Manly Wharf to the city, passing close by the Sydney Opera House and the coat hanger. (That’s what the locals call the Sydney Harbour Bridge.)
A good place to snorkel is Shelly Beach, at the southern end of Manly Beach. Shelly Beach faces west, at an angle to the main beach and sheltered from the waves rolling in from the ocean. Take just a couple of paces into the water, and you’ll find Nemo. Scuba divers bubble way down below. My Travelling Companion gets distressingly enthusiastic about close encounters with gropers. Settle down, a groper is a fish.
Rollerbladers abound. There’s a good path running along the beachfront. For a longer run, set off in Manly Vale at Addiscombe Road, follow the cycle path down Kenneth and Pittwater Roads to Manly Lagoon, through Manly Lagoon park to the sea, then all along the beach to Shelly. This is about 4 kilometres of easy skating. If you’d like a hill or two, there are two good slopes in Manly Vale. There’s a skate park across the way from Manly Lagoon park. My intrepid Travelling Companion has crawled the lower slopes but never really dropped in.
A word from a wise worm
Bladers beware: surfboards are a hazard. This could happen to you: You’re in the zone, skating along with the sea by your side, the wind whistling past your ears, the cockatoos screeching overhead and the picturesque surfer-dudes posed next to the path assessing the waves. Surfer-dude turns to greet mate on other side of path. Surfboard swings over path. Rollerblader hits ground.
Travel tip
Dare to be different — like the flower in the photo down below.
They have gluten-free pizzas. This worm didn’t know such things were possible. I guess there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy.
A fan
A humble worm says thank you to STA travelbuzz for reviewing my site.
The book I’m in
Stern Men, by Elizabeth Gilbert.
The photos
Me and the Manly Ferry:
Me looking for a cosy hole on Manly Wharf:
Smooth empty tarmac, blading heaven. The path along Manly Lagoon:
Manly Beach seen as you emerge from Manly Lagoon Park:
Blading from Manly Vale to Manly:
Blader in Manly:
Looking across Manly Beach to Shelly Beach at top left:
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark, Hallmark serial number 95 HBM 80-1. Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while my TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm. I’ll keep it meaningful. Like a t-shirt.
Today’s travel notes
Yesterday I was at Katoomba in the Blue Mountains. That’s about two hours’ drive west of Sydney.
How did I feel? Cocooned in magnificence.
In my last blog post, I confessed to being awestruck by Uluru, to the point of wordlessness. The Blue Mountains don’t do that to you. They’re beautiful, dizzying, breathtaking — but somehow cozy too.
Here are some words for the temperate rainforest: dripping; tinkly; enveloping; silvery; soaring.
Words for the precipitous train ride from the top of the gorge down to the forest floor: “Da-da-da-DAAA, da-da-Daaa”. For those philistines who don’t recognise it, that’s the Indiana Jones theme tune. They play it to you as the train sets off.
Words for the cliffs and gorges: floating; misty; dark and handsome; the strong silent type.
The Blue Mountains have something for everyone: ghost trees and ghost stories; misleading road signs and strong coffee; adventurous rides and ankle-turning hikes. You can even abseil off one of the Three Sisters, if she takes your fancy.
A traveller’s gripe
There are NO signs pointing the way to Scenic World, our destination in Katoomba. We went round and round the misty by-ways, asking directions of the locals. Some of the latter looked patiently amused. Others’ expressions implied, “Abandon all hope ye who enter here”.
Eventually we found a sign at the top of a road and turned obediently. It was a very very short road, ending in a t-junction. What now, left or right? Not a hint. We guessed right. If we hadn’t, we would eventually have become just another ghostly collection of voices bouncing off Echo Point.
Travel tip
Don’t be a prisoner of your hair style.
The book I’m in
Season of the Witch, by Natasha Mostert.
The photos
Me looking down on the rain forest canopy:
Me in the rain forest:
Me and a ghost tree:
Scenic Railway track plunging into the gorge. Impressive wormhole:
The Scenic Railway train — brother worm emerging from his hole:
Looking out over the rain forest canopy:
In the depths of the rain forest, looking up at the silver shining wet bark of a tall tree:
Black wattles. I’ve dubbed them ghost trees. Their scientific name is Callicoma serratifolia, and they’re not a wattle at all. That’s the Ozzies for ya. Historical note: The first timbers used for the wattle and daub huts of the early settlers were cut from these trees:
