Road Trip Part Two - Where A Road is Actually Tripped On

So there we were, Aaron, Peter and myself standing under a boiling hot sun in the suburban Mecca that is Beverley Hills (no, not the famous one in America the justifiably anonymous one in Sydney).  We were waiting for the most important member of our quartet to arrive; Ivan for he had the car that would take us to the promised land.  Or at least to Canberra.

According to my companions Beverley Hills, Sydney bears a strong resemblance to its American counterpart only with fewer streetwalkers.  With the temperature what it was the streetwalkers had probably all melted and trickled down the road.  I hadn't been to Beverley Hills in almost forty years and looked around with interest.  Thirty seconds later, realising this was inappropriate, I looked around with disinterest.  Fortunately Ivan arrived with the car just before we were reduced to rehydrating by drinking each others urine and we were off.  The road trip had officially commenced.

We motored through the southern suburbs of Sydney or at least I assume we did.  I don't recall seeing any of them but they were between us and our destination so failing some sort of teleport mechanism we must have gone through them.  I realised we had left Sydney behind when I started noticing animals.  This prompted some excitement in me and led to exchanges with my colleagues like;

"What was that?"
"A cow."
"And that?"
"Another cow."
"How about that?"
"A small fluffy cow, the type you get lamb from."

At this point the guys were messing with me but I'm not a complete idiot.  I know lamb doesn't come from cows, it comes from supermarkets.  Even without this the cow variety was staggering.  There were black ones and white ones and ones that had bits of black and white.  And all of this sufficiently close to Sydney that my comrades had not yet thrown me from the car every time I pointed them out.  I also think I saw a horse although it could have just been a streamlined cow.  My knowledge of Sydney's rural hinterland is limited to knowing that it is rural and hinter.  For the record I believe the official name for Sydney's rural hinterland is "Australia".  It appears to be populated largely by cows.

We sideswiped a thunderstorm on our way south and I was quite excited at the prospect of seeing the Southern Highlands which I have heard about but I don't think ever visited.  I asked about them and was informed we had passed them.  I made a resolution to look harder on our way back.  On the other side of the highlands was rolling countryside which was the perfect habitation for yet more cows.  We admired them from the car but didn't stop just in case they massed for an attack.

With the city comfortably behind us and the entertainment value of cows, very temporarily, exhausted we were reduced to conversation.  Aaron had some interesting ideas for screwing over the supermarket duopoly that controls the food consumption aspects of our lives and Peter went to sleep.  Peter did this so successfully that I suggested pulling over and dumping his body by the side of the road just in case he'd died.  A vote was taken, I won't say who voted which way but it was closer than Peter would probably be comfortable with.

Goulburn loomed large on our personal horizons because of the supermax prison located nearby.  We looked out for hitchhikers in orange jumpsuits but apparently they'd all decided to take the bus.  Goulburn itself didn't loom at all.  I think I saw what might have been a suburb (or possibly the prison) but then we were back in cow territory.  Have I mentioned the cows?  They were pretty awesome.  At some point after Goulburn a sign presented itself warning that we were approaching Canberra.  Presumably to give us enough time to do an emergency U-turn and stamp on the accelerator. 

Having missed all of the sights leading up to Canberra I was determined not to miss Lake George.  Lake George is supposed to be creepy, bunyip infested and dangerous.  What it isn't is particularly wet.  When we passed it cows were grazing on it although on the way back I noticed a sheen of water in the distance which I pointed out with some excitement only to be told it was probably a mirage.  There was also a wind farm by which I mean a huge collection of aeroplane propellors stuck on poles infesting the countryside.  A couple of them were turning lazily, most weren't.

Canberra announced itself with a smart looking group of town houses.  Have you ever noticed how ridiculous town houses look when they're surrounded by bush?  This was Canberra, semi rural, semi urban, semi wasteland and semi inhabited.  You could make a zombie apocalypse movie there without actually having to do anything except turn up with a camera.

Our accommodation was a bit of all right though.  We had booked a five bedroom (another comrade would join us later) apartment at Canberra university which turned out to be awesome. It was only fifteen minutes drive from everywhere we would want to go.  Although to be fair everywhere in Canberra is only a ten or fifteen minute drive from where you want to go, except away.

Luggage dumped we headed into the centre of town (a handy fifteen minute drive away).  Ivan demonstrated his reckless, risk taking side by parking in a disabled space and I gave pocket change to a panhandler who I thought had a creative story.  Aaron led us to King O'Malleys pub for dinner.  He did this by leading us in a full circle around the dining/drinking section of Canberra.  He swears he didn't but it took us fifteen minutes to walk to the pub and only five minutes to walk back to the car afterwards so I'll let you draw your own conclusions.  At the pub friends were met, food consumed and conversation attempted.  As I recall the principal topics were whether Iraqis were predominantly Shiite or Sunni and the correct method of using toilet paper.  As far as I'm aware there was no actual connection between these two topics.

Conversation came to an abrupt halt when the band started tuning up and being in more of a talking than a listening mood we headed to the tables outside.  Where we ran slap into the sound waves being created by an impromptu drumming circle in the street.  Inside we had been able to compete with the band by shouting but the drumming group defeated us utterly.  Violence was suggested but eventually we mighty wargamers beat an ignominious retreat and fled back to our various accomodations rationalising our cowardice by claiming that we had to be up early the next day for gaming.