Taste

Here I am, at lunchtime on the Gap Thai cookery course, wondering what to eat first. We prepared five dishes each in the morning, ate these at lunchtime, then prepared three more in the afternoon. That's what I call a good value course.

The Culinary Art of Mr. Wrigley

Paul perfecting his spring roll technique. He has since tried this at home - with great success.

Markets, massage and food

Markets, massage and food sums up my Chiang Mai experience. They were all great - a feast of the senses! I loved Chiang Mai and hope to go back there again some day. Perhaps I'll go and refresh my massage skills by doing a 10-day course in Thai massage in Chiang Mai. We did do a lot of Thai techniques on the diploma course that I did in Leeds in 2001. I wish I'd used and developed my skills!

Thai people are great too - although I know that this is a gross generalisation. But if national traits can be said to exist, then Thais are so good humoured that even bartering becomes something to be enjoyed. Our last night in Chiang Mai, as we were walking through the Night Bazaar one of the street vendors - a young man - approached Paul saying 'Tuk tuk?' Paul's response of 'No thanks' was met with 'Taxi? ... Massage? ... Oh come on!' We both glanced back at him to see him shrugging his shoulders and laughing.

On the subject of massage, I aimed to get one a day, as advised by Cate in Byron Bay. I didn't quite achieve that even though on some days I had both a head and shoulder massage and a foot massage, separately. I used up my remaining baht at Bangkok airport, before I left, by having first a 45 minute foot massage (in the Chang Massage Spa on the 4th floor of the main concourse) and then a brief, 15 minute, head and shoulder massage at Gate 15 in the departure area.

The worst massage was the one we had in the place around the corner from SK House, which Aisling mentioned several times - although she didn't ever go there herself. My massage - from a blind woman - wasn't too bad, once she'd got into it and stopped acting like she couldn't be bothered. Paul's massage was painful though and when he fed this back to the guy massaging him - as requested - the guy said 'it's good for your back'. Next day I noticed that his back was covered in blue-black patches of bruising.

On the day after the trek we had lunch with Aisling, Fernando, Marius and Lindi. Marius and Lindi were leaving that day to return to Bangkok, where they had to go to the South African Embassy to request temporary passports so that they could continue their travels on to Cambodia and Laos, as planned. A bag containing their passports and tickets had been stolen whilst they were on the overnight train from Bangkok. As it turned out all six of us had travelled up on the same train. Paul and I got first class tickets though, being told that there were no second-class tickets left. This meant that we had a cabin to ourselves, with a lockable door. Marius and Lindi were anticipating problems and delays in Bangkok, although they were remarkably philosophical about it. I checked their blog the other day and learned it took only 3 hours before they got their temporary passports.

In an earlier post, I mentioned that Paul and I were going on a Thai cookery course. The course, was run by Hoi and Joe of Gap's House. We met some more interesting people, had a thoroughly enjoyable and entertaining day of cooking, and eating, and each came away with an evening meal - which we ate later on, beside the moat - a fair-sized recipe book and a certificate from the Gap's School of Thai Culinary Art . The course included a trip to the market in the morning. By early afternoon we'd cooked four or five dishes, which we ate for lunch. On the strength of this experience Paul has decided to forget his ambition of being a rock star and become a Thai chef instead. I'm getting some great meals - even better than the ones he cooked before!

Gap's house seems like it would be a good place to stay on a return visit to Chiang Mai. We weren't that impressed with SK House. The room was clean to start with, but wasn't cleaned again even though we left the sign on the door requesting room cleaning. The bedding - though clean and smelling strongly (if not pleasantly) of highly-scented washing powder - was torn and stained. By the end of our stay there a cockroach had taken up residence in the bathroom and caused me to shriek by scuttling towards my toes as I sat on the loo.

In spite of the growoing shortcomings of SK House, we were both sorry to leave Chiang Mai. Bangkok wasn't so bad the second time around though. We got back there early on Thursday afternoon, on a flight from Chiang Mai. After booking back in to the Bel Aire Princess (on Sukhomvit soi 5) we went to the Khao San Road. It was a good journey travelling by Sky Train and ferry: train from Sukhomvit to Nana then the ferry from Saphan Taksin to Phra Arthit, passing a lot of Wats on the way, including Wat Phra Kaew and the Grand Palace. We had visited there on our first day in Bangkok, which seemed like a long time ago now. We spent the afternoon looking around the markets and around the Khao San Road, which is in the backpacker's district. Turning the corner of a stall we came face to face with Anne and Jeanette who had started out on the trek with us in Chiang Mai. They were flying home to Manchester that evening.

On the morning of Friday 9th I had my last Thai breakfast of noodles, then left for the airport. Paul's flight was about 12 hours after mine so he had some more time to spend looking around.

My flight out of Bangkok airport was delayed for about an hour due to an impressive storm over the airport - thunder, lightning and a deluge of rain. Apparently it was dry in Bangkok.

The flight back to the UK was uneventful. I watched four films, ate two meals and went to the toilet four times - once after each film (they were that bad!). What else is there to do on a plane.

The only truly notable occurrence on the plane was that one of the two lads that I was sitting next to thought I was Australian! He asked if I was going to the UK to visit friends. When I said I was going home he looked a bit puzzled. Later on he asked where I lived and how long I'd lived there, following my response with the comment that 'you've not lost the accent.' It was my turn to look puzzled as I hadn't mentioned being a southerner originally. He was from Norfolk himself. All was made clear when he said that he thought I was an Australian. I'm sure that Mark and Kim will find that very amusing.

Trekkings and wettings

The red trek bus - a ten-seater, open backed, jeep-type affair - picked us up from SK House early on Thursday morning - April 13th. We were immediately each issued with a plastic bag and advised to put everything in it - including any money, cameras or documents, because 'you will get wet'. Our driver and Lahn, our trek guide, wound up the windows of the cab and left us to it. I thought they took some pleasure in cruising slowly alongside other vehicles and slowing down as we approached groups of people. At Songkran, anyone in an open vehicle is a sitting target - from the people lining the streets and from people in other vehicles. The journey out of the city took about 1 1/2 hours. The floor of the truck was awash with water before we got out of the city centre. As Paul remarked several times, it is amazing that there aren't a lot of accidents caused by scooters and vehicles swerving and skidding.

On that first day of the trek we went bamboo rafting. This involved the women sitting demurely on the raft whilst the men punted. It's not uncommon for the rapidly constructed rafts - made of bamboo and strips of rubber (old tyres) - to fall apart on the journey down the river. Ours didn't, although it did need a few running repairs. We had to get off the raft and into the water a few times, but as we were already wet this didn't matter. I lost a flip flop at one stage, but it was recovered. There were a lot of families out on the river, picnicking on the banks as well as rafting, and a lot more water was thrown around.

After lunch we walked for about 3 hours until we reached the Karin village where we were to stay that night. This was a settlement of the Karin Skho hill-tribe, in an area of reserve land to the south-west of Chiang Mai. About 50 people live there - along with numerous dogs and cats, buffalo, cows and pot-bellied pigs - tilling the fields and growing rice.

There were ten of us on the first day of the trek: Paul and I: Aisling from Ireland and Fernando from Argentina; Marius and Lindi from South Africa; and another couple from Germany and Italy; and Anne and Jeanettte from Manchester. We all slept in a bamboo hut on platforms of bamboo and matting, draped with mosquito netting. It wasn't particularly comfortable!

On the second day Aisling, Fernando, Marius, Lindi, Paul and I carried on with Lahn, walking for about another three hours to a camp by a waterfall, where we stopped that night. The others left us to return to Chiang Mai as they had only booked a two-day trek. We were joined later in the day by another group of trekkers, two of whom retrurned to Chiang Mai with us on the following day. The camp was about an hour's walk from the nearest village. There was only one man there when we arrived, but about three more turned up the next morning, each coming alone and carrying provisions - among these some moonshine and some monkey meat, both of which they consumed eagerly. The monkey meat was raw and mixed with spices. I didn't try it. Lahn had told us the day before that there was no wildlife left in the hills, so presumably it's all been killed for food?!

I thought the actual trekking was disappointing, because there was no wildlife and few birds even in evidence. There weren't many wild flowers either, apart from the small purple orchids. There has been lot of logging in these hills in the past. It's now illegal, but I wonder how much still goes on. There are serious signs of soil erosion, no doubt added to by the trekking. As soon as the path becomes unusable a new path will be created to one side of it, thus adding to the problem. There were no visible signs of that the reserve was managed, apart from by the hill tribes themselves, who still use a form of slash and burn agriculture (the reason why there is a haze over the hills viewed from Chiang Mai). The camp where we stayed on the second night was on a steep slope on the banks of the river. In the rainy season it would be unusable.

Paul did enjoy the trek, so perhaps it was just that I was making a comparison with Australia and the abundant wildlife there.

The final day of the trek began with a short walk of an hour or so, followed by an elephant trek. We were entertained by the elephant in front which took every opportunity to stop and scratch itself, on and with whatever was available. It even picked up a small piece of bamboo in its trunk and scratched each foot in turn, front and back and all around - tops, soles and toes.

The journey back into Chiang Mai was wet again. We were dropped off about half-a-mile from the SK House - where Aisling and Fernando were also staying as it turned out - because the roads were closed to traffic.

After a while being wet does begin to get tedious and I had an attack of wimpishness that evening, being reluctant to venture out until the celebrations had died down. We went to explore the market on Ratchadamern, which leads off the Tha Phae gate, in the old city. There's a market here on Sundays, known as the 'Sunday Walking Market', but there seemed to be a market there for the holidays too. There were some great food stalls on this street, as well as all the clothes and jewellery stalls. I got 2 pairs of earrings for 10 baht a pair. We also had several of our many Thai massages on this street. The most memorable of these was the one we had on the last night of Songkran - the night we got back from the trek. We decided to go for the full body massage and lay on the ground behind all the massage chairs, looking up at the sky. An electrical storm started soon after our one-hour massage had begun. It was amazing to lie there, in a relaxed state, whilst flashes of lightning regularly rent the sky and thunder cracked overhead. The woman who was massaging Paul kept getting the giggles because she was getting tangled up whilst trying to manage his long legs! My masseur found it very entertaining when my shoulder muscles were making scrunching sounds: 'Skryck skryck,' she laughed, digging into them again, 'Skryck skryck.'

Luckily the rain held off during our massage, but we got caught in the downpour as we walked back to SK and had to change into dry clothes yet again when we got back. The wettings still weren't over though. We went and sat in the SK lobby and had a couple of bottles of Singha beer and then got soaked right through again just walking the few yards back across the courtyard to our room!

New Year in Chiang Mai

We arrived in Chiang Mai on 12th April, on the overnight train from Bangkok. Our arrival co-incided with the start of Songkran, the Thai New Year, and Chiang Mai was a wet place to be! Thais celebrate Songkran with fervour and enthusiasm, and with liberal sprinklings of water. From what I've read about it, I understand that the water focus of the festival has its origins in sprinkling water over monks and elders, as a means of showing respect, but Songkran as it is celebrated now - or at least in Chiang Mai - has gone beyond the sprinkling of water over a select few. The main aim is to ensure that everyone gets wet; and not only partially wet but thoroughly soaked. People go out of their way to see to it that everything you are wearing or carrying is made as wet as possible - they do this with much humour and goodwill, and with determination. Water is not only sprinkled, it is thrown from buckets, squirted from water pistols and sprayed from hose pipes. Some aim for extra effect by adding ice to the water and this certainly provides shock value. Actually a bucket-full of lukewarm water in the face is quite a shock anyway and momentarily painful if it gets you full on, especially in the eye or across the ear. I know, because I got several hits like that!

Special pumps are installed in the moat in Chiang Mai in preparation for Songkran. The pavements on either side of the moat are lined with people armed with implements for the dispensation of water. As the photo shows, people lower buckets into the water. The street vendors pile their stalls high with plastic buckets and with water pistols in various colours and sizes. Elsewhere in the city, people stand outside shops and houses with oil drums full of water, or hose pipes.

Paul and I had decided to go and investigate the Night Bazaar on our first evening in Chiang Mai and. I had suggested earlier in the day that we should arm ourselves with water pistols if we were going out later on. Paul seemed reluctant at first (his teacher side was still to the fore at this stage I think!) but by the time we'd got 100 yards down the road we were both getting a bit wet and the streets were thronging with people by this time. We stopped and bought a small water pistol and a larger 'weapon' with a pump action which was filled from a handy water-carrier backpack. Paul was already carrying a backpack, so I took the larger weapon and acted as the advance guard, Paul following on behind with his pistol. Paul tells this event differently; in his version - which he of course illustrates with mimed actions and reactions - I took the offensive and he got all of the retaliatory soakings (he likes to tell this story) . In fact we were both soaked through before we even got halfway to the Night Bazaar! We were as wet as the people in the photo below.

I do wonder why this strange custom came about. Water is a cooling element and Thailand in April is very hot, so it does have a practical purpose. It's towards the end of the dry season too so perhaps serves the purpose of letting people vent frustrations whilst also acting as a precursor and celebration of the wet season to come. I've just googled 'Songkran' and found the following:

'Songkran is a Thai word which means "move" or "change place" as it is the day when the sun changes its position in the zodiac. It is also known as the "Water Festival" as people believe that water will wash away bad luck. [...] [It] provides the opportunity for family members to gather in order to express their respects to the elders by pouring scented water onto the hands of their parents and grandparents and to present them gifts including making merits to dedicate the result to their ancestors. The elders in return wish the youngsters good luck and prosperity. In the afternoon, after performing a bathing rite for Buddha images and the monks,the celebrants both young and old, joyfully splash water on each other. The most-talked about celebration takes place in the northern province of Chiang Mai where ... people from all parts of the country flock there to enjoy the water festival, to watch the Miss Songkran Contest and the beautiful parades.'

Songkran is celebrated over four days, from the 12th to the 15th April. Before we left Bangkok, we had booked to do a three-day trek from Chiang Mai, from 13th to 15th. As we discussed with our fellow trekkers, this was probably a good decision as it wouldn't have been possible to do much in Chiang Mai, or at least not without getting wet.

A day on the river

It's now Wednesday evening and today is our last day here in Chiang Mai. We didn't actually spend the day on the river, but we did go for a two-hour cruise. We'd thought of hiring a motor-bike today in order to get out of the city. I would have liked to visit the Hill Tribe Museum which is out of town, for example. Anyway, we decided that it would be more enjoyable to have a day chilling out. We had breakfast in the cafe at the end of our street. I had the ubiquitous Pad Thai - fried noodles - with chicken, along with a glass of fresh mango juice. After that, we went for coffee at 'Zest', further down Moon Muang , where the coffee is only 30 baht a cup, with a free top-up as a bonus. We'd been going to the Black Canyon coffee house on the corner of Ratchadamern and Moon Muang until we discovered the 'Zest' cafe. Black Canyon coffee is good and it's a Thai chain of coffee houses so it's more appropriate to go there than to Starbucks, but the Zest coffee is cheaper and just as good.

We walked to the southern end of Moon Muang after coffee, then crossed the moat which delineates the boundaries of the old city and headed east along Sridornchai until we reached the Mae Ping river. The river cruises leave from a pier behind Wat Chaimongkol. The term 'river cruise' makes them sound very grand. In fact there were four of us, plus the 'skipper' on a very basic boat. We went north up the river for about 45 minutes, then stopped for a while at the Farmer's House landing. Here we disembarked and were gien a brief tour of part of the garden, where Thai plants - herbs, vegetables and fruits - were pointed out to us by our 'skipper'. After this we were served with a platter of fresh pineapple and watermelon each and a choice of cold juice to drink. Paul had lemongrass juice. I chose the tamarind, which was disappointingly insipid.

It was good to get out of the city and to see some different scenery. The river itself is brown and muddy and has a fair bit of debris floating in it. There are quite a few old teak houses alongside the river, although there are also - unfortunately - some modern concrete houses too. The designers of the latter have made little attempt to fit them in with their surroundings. We passed quite a few people fishing and children playing in the river.

Once back in the city we headed for the Warotot Market, intending to get some dried herbs there and look at the fruit and vegetables. We both went on a Thai cookery course yesterday (the same course) and were going to view the market afresh, from a more knowledgeable perspective than when we went there last week. We never did get there though. We took a short-cut through the Anusarn market and got distracted by all the restaurants there. It was mid-afternoon by this time, so we stopped for some food. I ordered some flat noodles and fish balls as I'd had this in a small eating house in the old city the other day and it was one of the best things I've ever eaten! There were several different fish-balls in it - each a different shape, colour, texture and taste. But today, to my disappointment, what I got was noodles and fish.

After eating we continued through the Anusarn Market, then turned right along Chang Klan. This is where the Night Bazaar is held every night, the stallholders setting up on the pavements all along Chang Klan, mainly in the area between the Tha Phae and Loi Kroh junctions. . We were still headed in the direction of Warotot, but never got there. The Night Bazaar was already setting up and - although we'd already done a lot of shopping there last night - we got distracted again in the search for presents for people back home.

Blogged out!

It's Monday evening and I'm in an internet cafe on Sripoom Soi 1 in Chiang Mai, northern Thailand. I meant to blog yesterday evening, but by the time I'd checked my emails and my bank account and sorted out booking a flight back to Bangkok on Thursday, the inclination had long gone. To tell the truth, the inclination is a bit lacking now. I'm tired and it's hot, humid and thundery. I spent so many hours bringing my blog up-to-date that last day in Melbourne that maybe I'm a little blogged out!

We are staying in a guesthouse around the corner from here, the SK House on Moon Muang Soi 9. We have a room on the ground floor, next to the swimming pool, which I went in for the first time today.

I arrived in Bangkok last Sunday evening, but the reunion with Paul didn't go quite according to plan. The flight was due in around 10.30 p.m., but was late landing. We were circling the skies above Bangkok for what seemed like ages but was probably only 15 minutes at most. Anyway, the result was that there seemed to be a surge of passengers all disgorged into the airport at one and all trying to get through immigration control. Immigration control were taking their time. By the time I got through immigration control, picked up my baggage and walked out into the main concourse of the airport it must have been getting on for midnight. I was immediately assailed by smiling Thai people all vying for my attention, offering me taxis and hotel rooms and all kinds of other things besides. Then I heard my name being called over the PA system. I presented myself at the information desk as requested, to be greeted by Paul demanding 'Where have you been?'. It wasn't quite the reunion I'd anticipated! Of course he had not bothered to make a note of the flight number that I had emailed to him, so had not been able to check whether the flight was in, or when it got in. When he had made enquires at the information desk he'd been given all kinds of conflicting information.

Bangkok was hot, dirty, smelly and heavy with the fumes from many buses, cars, taxis and tuuk tuuks. Just getting around was difficult, due to continual harassment from people who wanted to either take us to places we didn't want to go to, or to direct us away from places we did want to go to ('The temple is closed today ...') in order to take us to somewhere in order to take us somewhere which might have some financial benefit to them (and cost to us).

So, here we are in Chiang Mai, where we have been since Wednesday morning, travelling overnight from Bangkok on the train, in a 1st class sleeper. Chiang Mai is great!

Leaving!

I'm leaving Australia today! Looking forward to seeing Paul in Thailand before the day is out. I've checked the flight, bought presents, caught up on blog, etc, etc, etc. Yesterday I finally got to see the exhibitions at the Ian Potter Gallery at Federation Square - it was closed - or some of the galleries were - when I went there in February. Mark and I went yesterday.

I need to go and pack, then go on down to the fete at Lee Street Primary - where Jack, Lucy and Emma go to school.

My flight leaves Melbourne International at 16.20, so need to book in 3 hours before that. I arrive in Bangkok at around 22.30 local time. Aaaargh, a nine-hour flight - better than 24 hours though or whatever the flight out was.

I have loved being here and will definitely return. I'll write a brief overview at some point.

Must end for now.

Wildlife pics 2

Dingo at Maru.




Wild kangaroo on Phillip Island











Penguin on Phillip Island (photo taken outside of the centre, without a flash).






Crimson rosella (with ex-bird-phobic friend) on Wilson's Promontory

Wildlife pics 1

Tower Hill - layers of volcanic rock









Kangaroo - a reluctant subject








Swamp (or Brush) Wallaby at Tower Hill












Emus at Tower Hill








Maru wildlife park. Gus the aggressive kangaroo, turning his attentions to Lee.












Molly the wombat, at Maru










Puffer Fish (deceased) on Woolamai Beach

Koala pic

Koala at Tower Hill.

William Ricketts' Sanctuary

William Ricketts' Sanctuary was visited by Billy Connolly on his World Tour of Australia. This is how I came to hear of it, and whenever I mentioned it to other people, they invariably made a reference to Billy Connolly. In fact the attendant in the ticket office yesterday specifically asked if that was where I'd heard of it.

It seemed somehow fitting that this should be almost the last place I visited, since it was about the first place I identified that I wanted to see. I was determined to get there before I leave Australia on Sunday, so I hired a car yesterday and drove out of the city eastwards, into the Dandenongs. After picking up the car I took the Eastern Freeway out of the City, then turned off at Fern Tree Gully to follow the Dandenong Tourist Road through Sassafras and Olinda - beautiful names - and along the winding uphill road bordered by towering eucalyptus forest.

From what I had already seen and read about the sanctuary and William ('Brother Billy')Ricketts himself, I expected to find the place moving. I wasn't prepared for the effect it did have on me. In the filmed interview, Ricketts himself says that the essence of spirit cannot be described in words, but only felt in the heart. I feel a bit like that about the place itself and my whole experience of it.

I watched the documentary about William Rickets life and work, then sat through the video of the interview with him, made when he was already in his 90s. He died - aged 94 - in 1992 or thereabouts. I found it painful to watch the video. He was one of those people who have such passion and belief that it is easy to dismiss them as strange or 'eccentric'. Sitting there in what was Ricketts' home, watching the video, I wondered if the discomfort engendered by the experience stems in part from the fear that I too might be thought just as strange if I were to speak about my beliefs.

Ricketts spoke of all wildlife, and his Aborignal 'brothers', as being the essence of god, or spirit. It was his life's work to give form to that spirit and to create form that was itself a part of that spirit and inseparable from it. He spoke of himself as being 'of the Lyrebird Totem' and did a little shimmying dance to illustrate it.

He reminded me of Thoreau, both in his beliefs themselves and in the passion and conviction with which he spoke of them. Like Thoreau, he found in Hinduism a receptacle for and expression of his deeply-held beliefs.

It was cold in the video room and I was sitting quite rigidly on the low wooden bench, both trying to sit comfortably and also holding in my emotions. I didn't realise how cold I was or how stiffly I had been holding myself until I got outside. I got out the camera to take a photograph of one of the sculptures and suddenly froze in pain - it felt as though a nerve was trapped between my shoulders. The sensation was of that rigid shell across my shoulders which might suddenly crack open. The pain brought tears to my eyes; the pain and the shock of being suddenly plunged back into that place of pain, and the fear that comes with that. For a few moments I thought I wasn't going to be able to move. The pain eased off, but didn't entirely leave me all day. A reminder - of something.

It was wet and cold in the Dandenongs yesterday. By the time I left William Ricketts sanctuary I was cold to the marrow, my fingers white and dead-looking. I got into the hired car and turned the heater up.


Figures in the forest. The sculpture on the right is 'Earthly Mother'








After a late lunch I went on to Healesville to visit the wildlife sanctuary there (see reference in earlier post). There I came across a water rat which seemed to be having difficulties breathing. I was very concerned about it and walked back to the veterinary centre in the rain to report it. Apparently she was found in Victoria Market in Melbourne and has some kind of bronchial asthma. She gets very out of breath on exertion, especially if she has been in the water. A bit unfortunate for a water rat!

Squeaky Beach

Wilson's Promontory is a beautiful spot. It's a granite peninsula south-east of Melbourne and is the southernmost point of the mainland. I would have liked to go and spend several days camping there, but at least I got to see a bit of it. A year ago part of the national park are was badly damaged when a controlled burn-off got out of control. As you'd expect, the damage is still visible.

After breakfast at Amaroo Park YHA on Tuesday morning, I was driven back to the mainland to meet the Bunyip Bushwalking Tour bus on its way out from Melbourne. There were only three others on the trip: Suki from Germany and John and Lynn from New Zealand. It's autumn here now and in another few weeks a lot of the tours will stop operating until the spring.

Sophie, our driver and guide, was a mine of information on plants, wildlife and habitats. She grew up on a farm in south-eastern Australia, but says she only became interested in nature and ecology when she went travelling abroad after university; up until then she was unfamiliar with the diversity of Australian wildlife. She came back from her travels with a new outlook and interests, and a determination to 'find out what's in my own backyard.' Since then she's been doing just that, joining naturalist clubs and leading tours.

We stopped for coffee at a place called Fish Creek (known locally as 'Fishy'), just before we reached Wilson's Prom. Fish Creek is known as the gateway to 'the Prom'. According to Sophie, the town got its present name after the creek flooded in 1951. A lot of the locals took refuge in the local pub. When the flood-waters subsided, they emerged from the pub (so the story goes) to find a giant mullet marooned on the roof. And there it remains, precariously balanced on one corner of the flat roof of the 1930s style building. 'And it still doesn't smell - yet,' said Sophie. Now I looked closely at this mullet - or as closely as I could from ground-level - and I couldn't work out if it was real. I took a photo anyway. As one of the tourist brochures says, it looks quite Daliesque.

The weather was pretty good on Tuesday, although we'd been warned that the Prom would be cold. Monday on Phillip Island was actually much colder. We started out by doing a 7 km trek up Mt Bishop through dense rainforest. We ate our packed lunch at the summit of the 'mountain', with a view across to Mt Oberon and the bay below. Sophie corrected herself every time she said 'mountain' and changed it to 'hill' instead, in deference to the New Zealanders.

Coming back down the Mt Bishop trail, we saw several parrots and crimson rosellas. I also saw my first Gang Gang cockatoo. These cockatoos have grey plumage, with a red comb and are very well-camouflaged in the eucalypt forests.

After Mt Bishop we drove to the car park near Squeaky Beach. There were a flock of crimson rosellas there, being fed grapes by a woman. Suki got out her camera and was immediately pounced on by the rosellas, who presumably thought she was getting out some food. They perched on her head and her arms - which she wasn't too happy about. Then they turned on the rest of us. Sophie took several photos of me ( with my camera) adorned with a crimson rosella on my head, looking a bit startled and not entirely comfortable. I also had one perched on my hand eating an apple core. Not bad for an ex-phobic eh!

Sophie gave us directions for the 3 km walk along Squeaky Beach and Tidal River, then left us to drive the bus along to the end-point of the walk, where she would meet us in a little over an hour. There are some great place names in Australia and 'Squeaky Beach' is one of them! In case you're wondering, the beach really does squeak underfoot - honestly! As we walked along, Suki and I would suddenly catch each others' eyes and burst out laughing, because it was such a ridiculous sound.

As we were leaving the Prom, Sophie suddenly spotted an echidna at the side of the road and stopped the van. It was the first one I'd seen alive. They are a bit like hedgehogs, only bigger, prettier and with longer noses. I've read that they are related to platypus, in that - like platypus - they are 'monotremes'. I think I'm right in saying that what distinguishes monotremes from mammals is that they lay eggs but then suckle their young.

I saw a couple more echidnas yesterday (Thursday) in the Healesville Sanctuary. There was a young one there that had arrived at the zoo's veterinary centre having been the victim of a road accident. It had bare patches on its head and back. As I watched, it tried to climb the sides of the plastic crate that it was temporarily housed in. All of a sudden it feel over backwards, exposing its soft, furry belly, with its little legs splayed out sideways and a very surprised look on its face. It scrabbled about for a few moments, twisting and turning this way and that, before successfully getting right way up again.

Penguins come home!

It's now Friday morning and I'm still updating this blog from earlier in the week. I've finally finished the entry on Tower Hill Reserve, which I'd left in draft form - you can find it several entries back (dated 4th April). I've also just finished the one on Maru wildlife park, which I had also left in draft form.

After Maru wildlife park, we drove on to Phillip Island where we went for a walk along Woolamai Beach in the south-east of the island. I walked along with John, from Belfast, who I'd got talking to on the bus. We found a very peculiar looking dead fish on the beach. I took a photo and later showed it to Lee, the tour guide, who identified it as a Puffer Fish. It was almost circular with a funny little pursed lips - almost like a beak - and a small tail, and was covered in spines - apparently very poisonous. There were also three or four dead penguins on the beach. I took a photo of a dead penguin too, which John thought was a bit morbid. It hadn't been mauled or anything, just looked as if it was lying down on its back. Well ... ok ... so it did look a bit lifeless.
We had an early dinner (4.30 p.m.!) at Amaroo Park YHA in Cowes - where I was booked in for the night. Cowes is the main town of the island and has the longest avenue of Cypress trees in the southern hemisphere. These are loved by the locals for the shade they provide and a recent proposal by the Council to cut them down (presumably as part of the backlash against non-indigenous plant species) was met with a public outcry and petitions. So the trees remain. There seem to be a lot of cypresses on the island as a whole.
After dinner we all (about ten people) got back on the bus to go on to the Penguin Parade in the south-west of the island. On the way, we saw some more kangaroos and some wallabies and viewed Seal Rocks and the Nobbies.

Phillip Island is world-famous for its colony of Fairy Penguins. Apparently, there is a smaller colony in Port Melbourne, but they don't get much publicity. Fairy Penguins are about 30 cm high. They differ from other penguins in that they wait until dusk each night before returning to the shore and to their burrows. They do this to avoid predators. They come in at dusk every night, regardless of the tide or the weather. On the principle that there is safety in numbers, the penguins stick together in groups. They travel in a 'raft', navigating towards the shore by sight. Every now and again the raft will surface to check that they are on course for whatever landmarks they have identified. We saw one such raft from the shore, faintly visible in the fading light as a dark patch on the ocean.

On the way to the Penguin Parade Centre, Lee pointed told us that the signposts to the centre used to say 'Penguin Parade at dusk'. They were changed because non-English-speaking tour guides were forever presenting bemused islanders and others with maps and asking where 'dusk' was.

The tide was in on Monday evening when we went to the Penguin Parade centre, which was beneficial for both us and the penguins. We were closer to the shoreline and in a better position to see the penguins as they rolled in on the tide. The penguins were closer to the beach and didn't have so far to waddle in order to reach their burrows.

At dusk, the ocean is monochrome: black water and white spray. As the penguins too are monochrome (actually blue-black) it is difficult to distinguish penguins from water. Several times I thought I could see a group arriving, but there was nothing but white foam on the incoming waves. Then suddenly there was the first group, a cluster of small figures separating from the spray, shaking the water from their wings and beginning their unsteady waddle up the beach. They looked like besuited office workers, trudging home from a suburban station at the end of a long day.

Being privileged guests - i.e. with a tour - we got to go on the 'Penguins Plus' viewing deck: less people and closer to the shore. I'm hopeless on distances, but I suppose the viewing deck was perhaps 100 metres from the sea. The penguins came waddling up the beach towards the viewing deck and then alongside the boardwalk. Every now and again they'd stop for a bit of a quack or a squawk and a quick preening session. They are nearing the moulting season, so they all looked quite fat. When they moult I think they stay in their burrows, as they would be unable to go to sea then.

As they advance up the beach, they gradually separate off, each heading for his (or her?) own burrow in the sand dunes, greeted by further squawking. Lee told me that the burrows may be as far as 2 km from the shore. Well, it seems to me that by the time the penguin had walked 2 km it would be time to turn around and head back to the sea again, although they do move faster than you might expect for an animal with such short legs.

It is forbidden to take photographs of the penguins, because they get extremely distressed by flashes - so much so that they vomit up their food on to the beach, which means that their chicks don't get fed - with disastrous consequences. At first it was just flash photography that was forbidden, but people went ahead and used their flashes anyway, so now there is an outright ban on photography. The centre has cashed in on this by selling a selection of photographs in the shop, at $1.70 each.

Molly the wombat and Gus the kangaroo

On the way to Phillip Island on Monday, we stopped at Maru Wildlife and Fauna Park - a sanctuary for rescued animals. I made friends with Molly the wombat, who was orphaned in a road accident, rescued from her dead mother's pouch. Apparently marsupial infants often do survive accidents in this way. At one time they would have been left to die, but now they are rescued and nurtured by various voluntary organisations and trusts.

Wombats are amazingly compact little animals, with a hard plate of bone across their haunches which protects them from predators. Lee, the Duck Truck tour guide, described how a wombat will crawl into a hole to escape a predator, leaving just its armour-plated rear end sticking out. Another tactic they use apparently is to crawl into a hole or burrow and flatten themselves against the ground; the unwary predator follows the wombat in and gets on top of it, intending to attack, at which point the wombat stands up and crushes its opponent against the top of the burrow. A car which tangles with a wombat sustains a lot of damage (though not as much as the wombat of course).

At Maru we went into the kangaroo and wallaby enclosures and hand fed them with some dried grasses and grains (purchased from the store for 50c a bowl). I was besieged by Gus, a large reddish-brown kangaroo from Kangaroo Island in Southern Australia. He was larger and heavier than the Eastern Greys, coming up to my shoulder or thereabouts when standing up on his hind legs, and very strong and determined; I've still got the scratches on my arm 4 days later. Whenever I tried to move away, Gus came after me, nose in the air and sniffing noisily after the scent of the food. In the end, Lee enticed him away so that I could feed the other kangaroos. I tried to feed some of the smaller ones that were quietly grazing, but he bigger ones immediately butted in and pushed them away.

Kangaroos don't much like having their ears touched, but they do like having their chests tickled.

I also had a go at hand-feeding the emus. They stab at your hand quite aggressively. In fact, they aren't very lovable at all!

We went round the park in a group initially, but then had a spare 10 minutes or so at the end to do what we liked. I went back to see Molly the wombat. She loved having her back scratched and kept rolling over then to have her tummy tickled, but also kept trying to nip me when I obliged. Wombats are renowned for being grumpy and aggressive. When I turned to leave Molly, she started pacing up and down against the fence of her pen in that sad way that bored, caged animals have.