Sunday, September 09, 2007

Dude! That was like, totally sick, man!

With Johny "Darn it I wish I'd studied Mandarin" Howard and Dubbya "Welcome to OPEC" Bush declaring Sydney their personal remember-when-we-ruled-the-free-world party zone, it was clearly cool to be anywhere else. Cool being the operative word. Australia's snow season may be about as long as George W's attention span, but that didn't stop half of Sydney from heading south one last time before swapping the parka for the speedos.

But first, a few scenic shots to set the scene. Ok, so Australian "mountains" rate about as high as George Gregan's pass on the world scale, but that doesn't preclude them from offering up a few stunning vistas here and there. This is Lake Jindabyne, at the foot of the somewhat optimistically named Snowy Mountains.

Reminds me a bit of the good ol' Desert Road. Desolate alpine scenery with an Aussie twang.

At times like these, I bet they wish they never, ever agreed to let those pesky Kiwis cross the ditch unimpeded.

Why I'll be darned if this isn't the perfect spot to sink a few oil wells folks. With Big W in town and OPEC and pretzels on his mind, it's time to lock up your national parks and slap a V8 sticker on the back of your hybrids.

But enough of the prelude (but not, unfortunately for readers, the inane APEC jokes). The sun sets over the bustling alpine ski village of Jindabyne, but not before a raid on the end-of-season bargain bins yields some so-cheap results.

Quick, snap on these skis before the last of the snow melts! Rock pauses for a photo opportunity before his bid for gold in the giant slalom.
Mei settles for gold of a different kind. Nothing warms frostbitten hands like a steaming golden chippie.

Finally, the open slopes! The snow is falling and the piste is supposed to be quick. You wouldn't have picked that watching this skier in action...

Green tracks are for newbies! Show me the black diamonds! Rock talks big before breaking the no toboggans rule on the aforementioned green strip by sliding half way down on a rather bruised ass.

Don't tell me the Great Wall of Sydney extends this far. John Howard will go to any lengths to keep the un-Australiaaans out. Too bad Kevin "Ni Hao" Rudd let himself in.

One of the many slopes Rock was too chicken to go down.

Now that man deserves an ice cold one. Ok, he doesn't, but luckily the machine doesn't care how many times you tumbled on the kiddee slopes.

Mist shrouds an early start to beat the rest of the APEC refugees back to Sydney.

But clears in time to reveal... that nothingness that is the city everyone loves to hate - Canberra. Ironically, with JWH going to such great lengths to ensure none of his power buddies had to set foot in the actual capital, a number of Sydneysiders took the opportunity to remind themselves why... they live in Sydney. Ok, it's not that bad. In fact, on a sparkling day with the nicely groomed artificial lake shimmering in the spring sun, it's actually worthy of being called a capital. Well, for Australia anyway :)

Canberra! Oh what a feeling. The feeling in question being boredom.

You know a city has image problems when all you can think to write home about is "well, they had this big fountain".

Still, there are worse ways to spend a Sunday than a relaxing cycle around the lake. Like watching the Prime Minister shamelessly flog the climate change agenda like he was born a believer.

The last time Mei was on a bike there were 1.5billion people riding with her. Actually, no, that's not entirely true. The last time Mei was on a bike was the day she realised she could fit it in the boot of Rock's Corolla for the run back to Ferg Hall.

Last stop (before the traffic jam outside Campbelltown that is) is the Aussie Museum. Basically Australia's answer to Te Papa, except instead of Vegemite tins on display they have old Holdens and footy shorts.

But the architecture is top notch it has to be said. This porthole symbolises the view the first Australians got as they first sighted their land of golden soil girt by sea. The artist seems to have forgotten the prison bars.


Now we're getting esoteric. So esoteric in fact, I can't think of a single tenuous APEC connection to make.

One thing about Canberra. You never feel crowded. No people. No cars. Certainly no politicians dumb enough to spend more than the time it takes their chauffeur to get them from Parliament to the airport at the end of the latest pointless debate.

Clearly three hours of 104.2FM pounding away in the background has given Rock a few delusions of grandeur. Mate, there's always Idol next year...