The Unpublished 16: Phillip Island for Adults

In 2009 I stayed for a few days on Phillip Island, a popular family holiday destination southeast of Melbourne, Australia. I wrote an article about what the island offered adults travelling without kids, but due to a travel magazine's change of editors it was never published. Here it is; and all the places mentioned remain great places to visit:

Massage centres are usually placed in idyllic locations - in rainforests, perhaps, or overlooking the sea - so I’m a little surprised to find one above a shoe shop and cafe on the main street of Cowes, the principal settlement of Phillip Island.

But it seems that, as in many spiritual philosophies, shoe shopping and wellness treatments form a kind of cosmic balance.

“Groups of four female friends will often come in together,” explains Patricia Hanrahan, owner and chief masseur at Aromatherapy in Action. “Two of them will get a massage while the other two go shoe shopping, and then swap places.” And have a coffee afterward, no doubt.

As my wife Narrelle and I wait for our scheduled treatments, I’m reflecting on the stereotype I had of Phillip Island as merely an old-fashioned fish ‘n’ chip-driven holiday town for families.

Although that’s still true to a degree, over the next three days I discover that the island has been quietly updating itself to match the tastes of couples on a weekend away, becoming a place to keep it slow, natural, romantic and playful.

Keeping it slow

It’s a beautiful day on Churchill Island, cool and crisp with the promise of sun later. The island, attached to Phillip Island by a narrow bridge, seems even more detached from the outside world than its big sister, its profile resembling a whale breaking the surface of Western Port Bay.

It’s the perfect place for the monthly Churchill Island Farmers’ Market that’s set out on its grassy flanks, with a view down over the water and the mainland beyond. As we saunter past its stalls, we spot emu oil, homemade biscuits, chutneys, chilli sauces, Dutch pancakes, and fruit and vegetables for sale.

We buy a coffee from the cafe of the adjacent heritage farm, sit on a grassy rise next to the market, and watch slowly moving shoppers. It's a delight to be here, enjoying the view and the pleasures of slow food at the same time.

Keeping it natural

Once the Wildlife Coast Cruises boat passes Nobby’s Point, we’re into Bass Strait and the water is considerably more active than along Cowes' northern shores.

Reaching Seal Rocks, we’re suddenly joined by dozens of seals, mostly young pups, who throw themselves into the sea to swim playfully between us and their rocky base. There’s only some ten metres between boat and land, and I’m struck by the dramatic colours of the scene - dark blue sea, light blue sky, and pure white foam as waves break against the black rocks.

As the boat moves slowly along, it seems an interesting question as to who is viewing who: you can imagine the seals welcoming their daily human diversion between the morning feed and the late afternoon nap.

Keeping it romantic

Our couples massages turns out to very pleasant. Lying on benches a metre apart, we each have a masseur working away at soothing our aching muscles, applying aromatherapy oils of Patricia’s own invention. I drift off into the happy near-trance massage state in which I cease thinking about anything but the present, but am just conscious enough to shift limbs when prompted.

Both refreshed and relaxed, we’re in the right frame of mind for a romantic dinner at The Foreshore restaurant in Rhyll, a tiny settlement on the island’s east coast. For mains, Narrelle chooses the whole snapper while I have the bangers and mash.

While my choice is a tastily upgraded version of the old favourite, featuring locally-made sausages with beef, thyme and mustard seeds, the real winner is my entree: Atlantic salmon cured in fresh dill, flaked salt, lemon juice and vodka.

We sit enjoying the food and the water view in the big, timbered interior and life seems pretty relaxed. And romantic.

Keeping it playful

Humans also have a playful side, and Phillip Island doesn’t fail us in indulging it. One afternoon we pitch up at Amaze’N Things, a family-friendly attraction which features a large outdoor maze. But what really works for us are the fascinating halls of illusions and puzzles within the building.

It’s amazing how engaging an old-fashioned hall of mirrors can be when supplemented with a little technology. The Gravity Room is fascinating, with its perspective-bending properties which totally confuse the brain (“Is that table leaning, or am I?”). And the confusing expander disc makes us see each other in an entirely new and distorted light.

We walk out of the place amused and laughing. The place is family-friendly, but you don’t need to have kids in tow to enjoy it. And the same can be said for the whole of Phillip Island.

Disclosure time... on this trip I travelled courtesy of Destination Phillip Island.

Canberra: Worth Going to See?

"Worth seeing? Yes; but not worth going to see."

The words of 18th century wordsmith Samuel Johnson passed through my mind yesterday as I visited Gold Creek Village in the northern suburbs of Canberra. Johnson was talking about the Giant's Causeway in Ireland, a geological feature; while Gold Creek Village is about as artificial as you can get.

It's basically a tourist precinct containing several attractions and some fairly daggy shops. There are a couple of historic buildings, but otherwise the complex looks like it dropped in from about 1987.

You can tell I'm not a fan of attractions that seem to exist largely to give people something to do on a quiet Sunday - it doesn't speak well of the vibrancy of the city as a whole.

However... if you've already ticked off the big attractions in the national capital - the National Gallery, the National Museum, the National Bonsai Collection (not kidding) - then you could do worse than spend half a day visiting Gold Creek. Take a postmodern sense of irony with you, and you'll enjoy it even more.

A prehistoric display

Our first stop was the National Dinosaur Museum, a big barn of a building with a single floor of exhibits and a little shop below. The first thing you notice about the place is that it's not your modern hands-on hyper-interactive kind of facility. In fact it's a classic old-fashioned museum with lots of displays in glass cabinets, loads of text, and a number of big dinosaur replicas.

Having said that, once you knuckle down and start reading the text, it's a pretty interesting place. Rather than starting from the age of the dinosaurs, the chronological displays start from the dawn of time and proceed past the dinosaur extinction to the present day. There's a quirky little section on cryptozoology and claimed sightings of modern-day sabre tooth tigers near the end that makes a neat follow-up to all the big picture stuff.

The museum does have a small amount of hands-on options, eg fossils you can touch. The text is well written and accessible, and there's a wealth of info about the Australian aspect of each prehistoric age. Though you have to chuckle a little at quotes such as "By the end of the Carboniferous [era], Canberra... has become covered by the southern ice cap." And I thought the city was only founded in 1927.

The bottom line re the National Dinosaur Museum? Minimal bells and whistles but good content... will work best for those already interested in dinosaurs.

Little Englanders

A short walk took us to Cockington Green. It's hard to know what to make of this place on first glance... replica English village buildings in a garden setting in Australia's national capital screams "cultural cringe" when you first hear of it.

Interestingly though, the Green does display some departure from the traditional "Isn't it lovely" approach. The miniature buildings, mostly at 1/12 scale, are based on structures from different places in Old Blighty. Though the buildings are generally olde worlde types, the model people and vehicles around them are modern, with late-model cars parked next to Tudor cottages.

The modern elements added a touch of extra interest to our stroll through the grounds, including an electric train snaking through the countryside, and a streaker at a soccer match. It was about that this point that our senses of humour kicked in, and we started to speculate where the secret druids were, dragging sacrifices into the woods by night.

And then we rounded the corner to see a group of model policeman bending over a model body lying in greenery just near a clump of bushes. And further on we found the model Stonehenge, with a bunch of suspicious robed figures standing in the middle. Narrelle thought they looked like monks, but I thought they were druids. Up to no good.

And so it went, with us walking through the beautifully tended gardens past canal boats and castles, noticing little jokes (like the pervy golfer) or possibly imagining them (like the pervy golfer).

And then to the international section, full of replicas full of spectacular foreign buildings, sponsored by various embassies in Canberra (planning for a full-blown Australian section is also underway). Not as much scope there for humour, but plenty for the "Been There" game.

But that's a story for another day...

Next Week: The "Been There" Game!

Sovereign Hill: New Gold Mountain Remixed

Lola Montez and I have a history. In 1855 she scandalised Victoria’s polite society by performing her saucy spider dance across the colony.

Then in 2005, I wrote an article for The Age (which was dismissive of Montez the first time round) to commemorate the 150th anniversary of her all-conquering tour.

And finally, we met in passing today on the streets of Sovereign Hill, though the former mistress of the King of Bavaria was more concerned with trading blows with newspaper editor Henry Seekamp, who’d dared to imply that the dancer possessed uncertain morals.

It was, of course, a historical reenactment with a slight edit - Montez and Seekamp did test out horsewhips on each other in real life, but in the confines of the United States Hotel. I, coincidentally, am writing this at the long timber bar of the rebuilt United States Hotel, on the main street of this replica town, which recreates the lively and chaotic gold rush era of 1850s Ballarat.

Gold rush town

Got all that? Good. So while the folk band in the corner strikes up another tune and the barmaid pours another ale, let me give you my thoughts on the place.

The first time I came here, I’d expected a cheesy antipodean Disneyland, a kind of “Gold Rush World” complete with corporate branding and actors dressed in giant fibreglass heads resembling those of bearded, gap-toothed Victorian-era gold miners.

The reality was, to my surprise, quite different. There’s something about Sovereign Hill that’s both charming and very relaxing. It’s partly because it really does resemble a small country town - the inhabitants may be in fancy dress, but there are enough streets lined with dusty timber buildings and ragged miners’ tents that it has the right “feel”.

On top of that, it’s full of businesses selling items typical of the era - clothing, toiletries, candles, sweets - many of which are made here. As you wander away from the busy main street, there are more items of interest scattered through the side streets - market gardens, animals, a wheelwright’s factory - which you can often wander through on your lonesome.

Panning for gold

There are also activities to undertake, such as panning for gold at the diggings area below the main street. Here, crouching visitors agitate wide metal pans vigorously in the hope of retrieving a few flecks of gold. There is certainly gold present, by the way, as the management has thoughtfully salted the stream with a modest amount beforehand.

Watching the gold panners is theatre in itself; I sat and observed a tour group from China getting down and dirty at the stream, having a thoroughly good time sloshing the pans in the hope of scoring a speck of the fabled metal.

There were several Chinese tour groups here today, living proof of the reported big increase in Chinese arrivals at Melbourne Airport. And I noticed something I’d never seen before at Sovereign Hill - their Mandarin-speaking guides were themselves dressed in Chinese garb of the 19th century, featuring silk shirts and broad straw hats.

Chinese connection

And then the penny dropped - Sovereign Hill isn’t just another Australian peculiarity on the itineraries of Chinese tourists, like kangaroos and penguin watching. There’s a strong Chinese story here on the goldfields, via the thousands of Chinese miners who came to “New Gold Mountain”, as they named the Victorian goldfields, to try their luck on the diggings.

With that in mind, I had a look through Sovereign Hill's Chinese Camp, a recreation of the Chinese miners’ homes and lives in 1850s Victoria. To my surprise, the small temple contains an impressive audiovisual presentation, via suspended widescreen TVs placed strategically within (haven’t flatscreen TVs been a godsend to museum curators everywhere?).

The story of the Chinese miners is an intriguing element of the multi-ethnic Victoria of those days. It’s not a story, frankly, that reflects well on the European population, who did much to make the Chinese feel unwelcome; but seeing the crowds of newly prosperous Chinese tourists now visiting Sovereign Hill and panning for gold, there’s a sense that amends have been made.

Disclosure time... on this trip I travelled courtesy of V/Line's daily Goldrush Special train and Sovereign Hill. But I paid for all the sippin’ whisky myself (and soon hope to have my sight back). For accommodation, see my 2007 review of Sovereign Hill Lodge.

Also check out the Sovereign Hill post and Eureka Centre post of my friend and blogger Walter Lim, who accompanied us on this trip.

What the XXXX?

When I was in Brisbane in early 2008, I felt a XXXX Brewery Tour coming on. No, it’s not filthy - XXXX, or Fourex, is Queensland’s most famous beer.

After the tour, I spoke with bar manager and tour guide Matt Meng about the attraction of beer, big machinery, tours, and why people like them mixed up together...

TR: Why do you think people come on these tours?

MM: XXXX is such a Queensland institution... and you can see the big red Xs on top of the building pretty much all the time. You think Queensland, you think XXXX, so people just want to come and see where it comes from.

TR: What part of the tour do you think people find most interesting?

MM: When the bottling line’s going, the river of beer as we like to call it, that’s usually where we get the oohs and ahs. But people really do enjoy the History Room, to see the history behind the Castlemaine and Perkins brewery and how the two came together.

TR: It is quite impressive, the whole river of beer.

MM: From what I’ve heard of other brewery tours, especially overseas, you don’t always get into the working side. At some breweries you just go to the old part of the brewery and see pictures. Here you can go into the site itself and see it being made first hand, all the way from the empty bottles being brought up, to being filled and put into the cartons and onto the back of a truck. The whole broad spectrum of beer.

TR: You might drink a beer or two at home, but you can’t quite visualise how much beer is made per hour here.

MM: Exactly. They’re filling 2400 bottles a minute; over an eight hour shift, that’s over a million bottles.

TR: How did you get into this line of work?

MM: I was actually poached, I guess, in a way. I finished university a couple of years ago and I’ve just been travelling, and I was working on a boat for Tangalooma. The people who run the brewery were on it at the time, I was working the bar there, and they said “Are you looking for some work?” And I said “Yes.” They said “Come on in,” so I did.

TR: So you’ve gone from being a barman to bar manager?

MM: I’ve been doing hospitality for a while, got me through university. So I had experience. I’d just finished up doing some labouring work, which got me overseas again, and I was looking for something else and sort fell into it, in the right place at the right time.

TR: It goes to show that you should never say working in a bar is dead end work, because it helped you get into this.

MM: Exactly. It’s great for now. I’m saving up some money to go overseas again. It’s a lot of fun.

TR: Do you drink much beer yourself?

MM: I do. I do love my beer, that’s why it’s a dream job. I tell all my friends back down in Victoria that I work for XXXX Brewery, and they’re all “Well, that’s the dream job for you, and you’re the envy of all the blokes down here.”

TR: Do you get any funny stories or odd comments on the tours?

MM: There’s a myth that there’s a direct tap from here to the Suncorp Stadium. So a couple of people have asked “Where’s the line that goes to the stadium?” and I’m like, “I wish I knew because I live around here.”

TR: Why are people so interested in beer?

MM: I don’t know. I guess it’s a global language. It’s … I’m not really sure.

TR: Beer is something you do find everywhere.

MM: Exactly, and there’s always a good story to be told over a beer, and it’s good to sit down and have a chat. It’s fantastic especially when you’re travelling, as most people are who come through here. They just want to sit down and have a bit of a yarn, and there’s a XXXX to go with it.

TR: The whole social lubricant?

MM: Exactly.

Classic XXXX Brewery Tours operate from Monday to Saturday, from the XXXX Ale House Visitor Centre, corner Black & Paten Streets, Milton, Brisbane. Adult $22 adult, concession $20. Bookings: (07) 3361 7597.

Matt Meng has now moved on from his job at the XXXX Brewery, but presumably still loves beer. Tim Richards received complimentary admission to the Classic XXXX Brewery Tour, and he’ll have a XXXX Gold.

Yarra Glen: Cheesy, But in a Good Way

I've just returned from a couple of days in Yarra Glen, researching its attractions for a mini-guide to be published in The Age.

The town, east of Melbourne, sits within the Yarra Valley, a farming region whose most famous crop is the grape. As in the raw material used by wineries, of which there are many in the vicinity.

It's an interesting little town, with a mix of shops and eateries, and the usual smattering of accommodation from B&B cottages to the very grand Yarra Glen Grand Hotel.

But what struck me by the end of my investigations was how locally produced food and drink have become a major tourist drawcard in their own right. And not just in the Yarra Valley, but right across Victoria.

When I was a kid, living in rural Western Australia, the scenery in the countryside was fantastic, but you wouldn't expect too much of the food.

In those days, eating out in a town the size of Yarra Glen would entail a choice between a fish 'n' chip place, a Chinese restaurant producing heavily modified Cantonese dishes, and a local pub whose menu didn't stray much beyond steak & chips versus fish & chips. Oh, and maybe a nice prawn cocktail for starters.

But a scenic country town in 2009 is a very different place. Here are some of my foodie highlights from a winter weekend in the country:

• Being taken around a few of the wineries nearest to Yarra Glen on Friday. The highlight was Mandala Wines' intriguing new cellar door building. Constructed from recycled materials and built around the core of an old farmshed, with rubber flooring made from old tyres, it's an impressive example of the way wineries are putting up buildings that enhance the landscape rather than spoiling it. And Mandala's pinot noir is pretty good too.
• Lunch at Hargreaves Hill Brewing Co's restaurant in Yarra Glen's main street consisted of... a hamburger. But an impressive variant on the popular fast food item, composed of high quality ingredients and served on a wooden board with a neat longitudinal stack of chips on one side and a tiny cooked beetroot on the other. It was great.
• Narrelle arrived that night and we had dinner at the Grand, whose ground floor was a warren of rooms, each decorated in a knowingly retro way with different wallpaper and carpet. Some rooms suited families, others couples, and the menu was similarly diverse. I had the steak & veg... well, to be precise, the prime fillet of beef on a smoked bacon and potato brique, house made pâté quenelle and a mushroom sauce. And a bottle of Big Betty shiraz from just down the road in Healesville. Never seen that wine before, want to see it again - a big bold red, heavy and memorable.
• And finally, for Saturday lunch we made the short trip out of town to the Yarra Valley Dairy, which creates its cheeses from milk gathered from the cows on the same farm. In fact you can order a sample plate of cheeses from the counter within a converted old shed that's at the heart of the operation, sit at a wooden bench and gaze out the window at the cows and paddocks while you eat. Our selection included cow and goat cheeses, culimating in a spectacular Persian fetta. In addition to this we shared a small container of balsamic onions, a posh way of upgrading the humble pickled onion.

Clearly, food has become an attraction in itself, and particularly food that's derived from local sources. Since most 21st century citizens source their provisions from big supermarkets, it seems that an allure, even a status, has attached itself to old-style food produced from local ingredients in a small-scale way.

What that says about our psychology, particularly our relationship to food, I'm not sure. But it does taste very good.

Tim Richards travelled courtesy of Tourism Victoria.

Phillip Island: The Child Within

Where is a handy niece or nephew when you want a good reason to indulge your inner child?

But let me backtrack. I’ve been visiting Phillip Island over the past few days. The island, southeast of Melbourne in Western Port Bay, has long been a summer playground for the city’s inhabitants.

As a result, it still has some of the aura of holidays past about it - numerous fish and chip shops, gaudy mismatched architecture, and classic old pubs like the Isle of Wight.

To be fair, it also has promising signs of the 21st century along its streets, including some excellent modern restaurants and wellness services such as massage. But what most intrigued me were the attractions that caught my imagination and reminded me of the fun of being a child.

Foremost among them were the interiors of the A Maze’n Things. As the name suggests, this attraction's chief element is a large maze, but the outdoor timber construction is hardly as interesting as the rooms of puzzles that lead up to it. They’re an interesting mix of old and new approaches, both electronic and manual.

I particularly liked the model train layout which consisted of a large-scale projection of two virtual trains onto a hilly layout. The trains are controlled by large real-life levers, with the implicit invitation to try to make them crash (a little anarchy that made me laugh).

But what really interested me was the so-called Gravity Room. Its floor is set on an angle, and various objects within it appear to slope uphill: a pool table, kitchen sink, and a fish tank. However, they’re all actually sloping downhill, as proven by rolling a ball along the pool table or watching the water in the sink apparently flowing upwards as it spills over.

It was baffling - although I knew it must be an illusion, I just couldn’t force my mind to correct the visuals, even when I saw Narrelle leaning at a distinct angle while actually standing upright.

Even more amazing: while my brain was thoroughly fooled, my body wasn’t. When I turned on my camera to take a photo of the fish tank, I instinctively held it so that I could see through the viewscreen that the tank was indeed level, not on the weird tipped angle my eyes couldn’t shake.

It was, even without a handy nephew in tow, fascinating. You might even say I saw Phillip Island from a new angle.

Tim Richards travelled courtesy of Destination Phillip Island.

The Unpublished 1: Eritrean Art Deco

This is the first instalment of an occasional series, in which I self-publish travel articles that I've never been able to place. This week we turn our eyes to the far-off African nation of Eritrea, and discover a surprising architectural treasure trove...

When you think of the great art deco cities of the world, you might consider Miami, Florida. You might also think of Napier, New Zealand, which was rebuilt after a devastating earthquake in the 1930s. New York also has some fine examples of the architectural style. But you’re unlikely to think of Asmara, in Africa.

Asmara is the capital of Eritrea, a tiny state on the southern shores of the Red Sea. Founded in 1993 after the defeat of Ethiopia in a war of independence, this African nation is slowly recovering from the conflict. There are several thousand Eritreans resident in Australia, with the majority living in Melbourne.

What few remember, however, is Eritrea’s colonial past. In 1890, the coastal province became an Italian colony. The Italians were playing catch-up with the Britain and France, creating an African empire of their own. Asmara became the jewel in the crown, with thousands of Italian settlers as the 20th century rolled in.

Modern architectural styles followed. As the Italian administration created its administrative centre, it worked from a blank slate. And what better way to express the confidence of this “new Roman Empire” than the soaring structures of art deco?

Art deco was characterised by bold, futuristic lines which streamlined the classical structures of the past. Onto this simple template were added designs from the Middle East, the Mediterranean and Latin America.

More distinctive was its inclusion of symbols of modern technology: wheels, cogs and cars. It suggested a confidence in progress and the future, memorably expressed in the lines of rocketships in the Flash Gordon comic strips. It’s ironic that this confident style began just before the onset of the Great Depression. By 1940, it had reached its end.

In Asmara, however, this was the perfect style to express the assurance of the Italian state. With Benito Mussolini’s rise to power in 1922, the two went hand in hand. The dictator never visited the far-flung colony, but there would be plenty of grand buildings to pose in front of if he had.

This is the miracle of art deco Asmara. Despite the passing of time and a 30 year war of independence, its architectural heritage has remained untouched. Highlights of the art deco era include a futuristic service station with sweeping wings, and the imposing Cinema Impero. Pink plaster and curving door frames dot the central city, in both residential and commercial buildings.

The building of a new nation is not easy, however, and the art deco heritage has been threatened by development and a lack of resources for conservation. To redress this, the Eritrean government has sought World Bank funding to catalogue and preserve the city’s modernist past.

The Eritrean embassy to Australia confirms its importance to the young nation: “Art deco buildings are highly preserved, and the government has established a special department for the purpose.”

Aside from its cultural and historic benefits, preserving early 20th century heritage may have a tourist spin-off. If a regional New Zealand city like Napier can market its art deco structures successfully, why not an African city within reach of the warm waters of the Red Sea?

Since a second conflict with Ethiopia in the late 1990s, Eritrea has become a more peaceful place. Australia's Department of Foreign Affairs advises travellers to avoid the borders with Ethiopia and Sudan, and to be mindful of terrorism in general.

But Asmara remains an inexpensive place to travel. Budget accommodation starts from a few dollars a night, and five star lodgings also exist. Car hire is needed to get to the more remote attractions, though food is cheap wherever you go.

It’s light years away from the high energy of New York, the sunbaked beaches of Miami or the greenery of New Zealand. But Asmara offers the chance to see the 20th century’s greatest architectural style amid the exotic charms of the Red Sea coast.

Note: As this article was written in 2004, the author takes no responsibility for readers' reliance on the information within. Always check on the current security situation before travelling to Eritrea.

The Unpublished is a random series of my never-published travel articles. For previous instalments, click on the The Unpublished Topic tag below, then scroll down.

An Essential Luxury

According to eTurboNews this week, Indonesia’s tourism minister Jero Wacik has an unconventional opinion on the ongoing global economic crisis.

He thinks it will benefit his country’s tourism industry rather than harm it, saying “The crisis is stressing so many people out. They need to relax to relieve the stress.”

Is this a supreme example of spin doctoring, or the most optimistic statement since the commander of the Light Brigade said “We can take ’em”?

I say this not to impugn the forecasting skills of Mr Wacik – he may well be proven to be correct. But it’d be against the conventional wisdom, which suggests that in times of economic downturn, people give up travelling.

On the surface, this makes sense. If companies are feeling cautious with their money, they may well cancel all non-essential travel and use email and video conferencing more. Individuals might also see travel as a luxury they can do without, and hoard their pennies in the old oak chest.

And that’s what this theory revolves about, doesn’t it – the assumption that travel is a luxury, rather than an essential. Especially for individual travellers.

But is it? Obviously it comes down to the opinion of the individual. I’d argue that, at least in my life, travel is an essential item I’d give up a long way down the list from many material comforts.

On my Facebook page I say that I love the way travelling through somewhere totally unfamiliar, preferably using a foreign language, engages all your senses and makes you feel extraordinarily alive. I’m sure many others who’ve experienced the stimulating joy of travel agree.

On top of this, think how much good travel has done in dispelling racist stereotypes of foreigners among everyday people. Sure, narrow-minded people still travel overseas and return with unaltered prejudices, and even broad-minded travellers might meet only the sort of pushy touts that give their countries a bad name.

But never again will governments be able to get away with the propaganda posters used in the two world wars, depicting the enemy of the day as a race of slavering inhuman monsters with hideously distorted features who bayonet babies. The fear of the unmet “other” is always worse than the fear of a people you’ve actually encountered, however imperfectly.

Intolerance will, sadly, always be with us. But travel does its bit to dispel its evil, and long may it do so.

Let the Post-Games Slump Begin

According to a story in eTurboNews this week, a new report has revealed that hosting the Olympics is not a surefire way to increase your tourist inflow. Rather the opposite.

Counter-intuitively, it appears that holding the Games actually acts as a negative, depressing the number of tourist arrivals from up to two years before the event, to two years after. Apparently the effect has been observed for every Games back to Barcelona in 1992.

The theory is that regular travellers stay well away from the host city for the entire run-up and the event itself, assuming (perhaps rightly) that the city will be in construction chaos and overpriced. It seems, too, that the aversion effect lingers for some time before the tourist masses feel it's safe to go there again.

This news made me curious about the Olympics before 1992; did the tourist interruptus effect happen then as well? Did the Nazi tourism minister curse the economic drop-off at Berlin in 1936? Did the tour operators of Antwerp in 1932, or St Louis in 1904, complain about the lack of punters?

And what about even further back? For the answer, let's cross to our commentators in Olympia, Greece, circa AD 393...

Sofia: "... so that's one embarrassed Senator who'll be careful not to worship both Dionysus and Aphrodite at the same time in future! Over to you, Yianni."

Yianni: "Thanks Sofia. In local news, there's been a big reaction to the Emperor Theodosius' decision to abolish the Olympic Games as of this year. The Emperor's spokesmen are claiming the decision was made for religious reasons, but some are saying there was another agenda at work."

Sofia: "That's right, Yianni. Apparently a recent report commissioned by the Olympia agora discovered that the Games have an adverse impact on the local economy, driving up prices and keeping visitors away for the rest of the year. Unidentified senior Senators say that local donors to the Emperor's military campaign funds applied pressure at the top."

Yianni: "And they now feel the way is clear for the development of Olympia as a tourist destination with a broader appeal. Outspoken businessman Dimitri Stathopoulos has, perhaps not entirely coincidentally, announced the development of a major theme park, Olympus World, which will feature rides and other amusements based on the mythology of the now-banished pantheon of gods. Detractors have pointed to his majority ownership of accommodation in the area, and his prominent role on the local council."

Sofia: "Mmmm. When we caught up with Mr Stathoploulos today, he had this to say: 'It's time for Olympia to catch up with the rest of the known world, and I'll bet my bottom denarius the place will be a thriving success long after the Olympics are forgotten. May God lay Olympia low with an earthquake if it isn't so.'"

Yianni: "Well, time will tell, Sofia. In other news, the annual fashion show in Mediolanum opened last night, and the fashionistas are saying that this year, barbarian chic is in..."

Back to the 21st century studio...

Happy Coconut Day!

I've been celebrating Coconut Day today. In the midst of cold, dark mid-winter Melbourne, you might think there were few coconuts to be spotted. And you'd be right.

But there are plenty of them hanging off palm trees in the Solomon Islands, and a delegation from that Pacific nation was keen to draw the attention of Australia's travel writers to them today.

Once a month the Melbourne members of the Australian Society of Travel Writers meet over lunch to hear the latest developments in the world of travel, and to network just a little.

This month's shebang was amid the grandeur of the Victorian Parliament, in the sinisterly named 'Room K' (is that like 'Room 101'?).

I realised I only knew a few random things about the Melanesian nation: the capital was Honiara, they'd had some civil conflict in recent years, and there was a big battle there in World War II. So I, like many in the room, was a fairly empty vessel into which info about the islands could be poured.

Turns out the Solomons are an interesting place, with some fascinating remnants of war history (including all manner of abandoned military vessels to be snorkelled through or marvelled at in museum compounds, according to the writer next to me). It also, of course, has the scenic beauty you associate with Pacific islands.

In conversation, some were quick to mention that the tourism infrastructure was still in development, and the resorts etc were small and simple - not big and flash like those in Fiji. But as we all immediately realised, that could be a huge plus for many travellers.

Sometimes it's good to have the "tourism infrastructure" just high enough for comfort, but low enough to ensure a genuine experience of the place and its people. And if the Solomon Islanders were anything like their Fijian cousins, they'd be pretty relaxed and friendly.

The slideshow certainly made it look attractive. And I liked their slogan, "Discover Somewhere Different". Straightforward, unpretentious, honest. I'll have to get there sometime. If you'd like a peek at what's on offer, here's a link to the Solomon Islands Visitors Bureau's official website.

Coconut Day, by the way, was created to honour that versatile fruit, every part of which is customarily used by the islanders for some useful purpose.

And there's a great story we were told involving the Solomon Islands, a coconut and JFK; but I'll leave it to you to Google that one...

Poland 4: Hostel Headspace

Here's a curious thing. A few days ago I arrived in Wrocław (pronounced vrots-wahf), an attractive city in southwest Poland. I'd been here once before in 2006, when it was covered by winter snow but blessed with sunshine.

This time was different. It was cold and drizzly for most of the two days I spent there, and I learned that it's not at all easy to handle an umbrella, a clipboard and a camera all at once. One of them inevitably ends up on the quaint cobblestone street. The city, however, was as beautiful as I remembered it, even through the rain.

I'd booked a private room in a backpackers' hostel, one of a small chain I'd used before. I sometimes choose these places deliberately, especially at the end of a research trip when I desperately need to speak English at length to someone, anyone. You can always count on finding people willing to chat at a hostel.

There was a problem though, on the second night: the people in the room next to me were shouting, slamming doors and generally giving the impression of suffering from hyperactivity disorders. There was a reason for that, I discovered, when I ventured out to suggest a lowering of the volume: the next-door dorm was full of Polish schoolkids.

What the? After issuing two increasingly cranky requests to tone it down, I headed down to reception to enlist aid. The chaos subsided (eventually... boys will be boys), but I realised I was still feeling irrationally pissed off at the incident.

Then, thinking it over, I realised why I was so annoyed. Travelling in a foreign country is stimulating and fascinating, but also tiring. Hostels full of international backpackers aren't exactly peaceful, but they are a refuge from the mentally exhausting world outside - a curious international English-speaking zone where we're all on an equal footing.

A day earlier, I'd had a good conversation in the hostel lounge with a group of Dutch backpackers, talked over tea with a Brazilian, and shared breakfast and English language teaching experiences with a British woman working in a nearby Polish town.

Strangely though, having an onsite party of Polish students on a school excursion had shattered my mental refuge, turning an international backpackers' hostel into just another Polish one-star hotel with its peculiar challenges.

It was disturbing to realise I felt this way. Was I being racist in wanting a break each day from Poland, so to speak? I hoped not. It certainly wasn't a conscious aversion - I love the country and its people, and enjoy getting out there each day to encounter both.

I suspect, on further reflection, that I'd feel the same anywhere. When you're a stranger in a strange land, it's essential to have the occasional breather from the demanding task of engaging with the local language and customs.

Would Polish backpackers visiting Australia feel the same, I wonder, and enjoy the mental break of an international hostel after a day of grappling with Sydney or Melbourne? You know, I think they would.

Shadowing Ned Kelly

When you've had enough of travelling to tick off major landmarks, travelling to a theme becomes attractive.

Whether it's an itinerary built around food, history or a love of Elvis, a theme provides a "shaping mechanism" for the journey, livening it up and adding interest. There's also the fun of piecing together a puzzle as the fragments of the theme come together, creating understanding.

I had that feeling last week, as I joined the dots on the Ned Kelly Touring Route. Based in the High Country region of northeast Victoria, Australia, the route is a collection of places associated with the Kelly Gang.

For those unfamiliar with the legend, Ned Kelly was a young man from an Irish Catholic background, whose family of poor farmers was frequently in trouble with the law in the late 19th century British colony.

After an uncorroborated incident in which Ned was said to have shot at a policeman visiting the Kelly house, Ned and his brother Dan went on the run.

Joined by their friends Joe Byrne and Steve Hart, the Kellys emarked on the life of bushrangers (the Australian term for highwaymen), involving bank robberies, police deaths, a network of sympathisers, a sensational siege in their now-iconic homemade armour, and Ned's execution by hanging in Melbourne.

It's a breathtaking story, and the Touring Route takes you through some impressive places while contemplating it, from regional cities to isolated bush settings. And because I had to come to terms with the story in a "full immersion" way, actually visiting the sites personally and engaging people with what they thought of this complex man who's been called both a hero and a villain, it was a fascinating, fulfilling experience.

Some highlights, by location:

• Benalla: Seeing the green sash the 11-year-old Kelly was presented with, after he'd saved a younger boy from drowning. He was discovered to be wearing it under his armour when captured after the siege. Seeing it in a simple glass case, still stained with his blood, was deeply moving.
• Glenrowan: Walking around the historic sites and imagining the events of the siege: the near-derailment of the police train; the hotel alight; Kelly emerging like a metal-clad ghost in the pre-dawn light, bullets bouncing off him.
• Beechworth: Seeing the metal gates of Beechworth Prison, the same gates which replaced the timber gates when Ned's mother Ellen was jailed, as authorities worried that she might be broken out by protesting locals.
• Stringybark Creek: Standing in the eerily quiet clearing where the crucial gun battle took place in 1878, that led to the deaths of three policeman and the official declaration of the Kellys as outlaws.
• Mansfield: Standing in the morning light at the local cemetery in front of the graves of the slain police, being challenged in my inclination to see Ned as a folk hero.
• Beveridge: And finally, standing outside the humble, decaying, fenced-off house just north of Melbourne where Ned lived as a young boy, his large family around him and his father still alive.

It was an intriguing week, and I feel like I've learned so much from being there, rather than just reading about Kelly's life in a book. The facts are essential, but the emotional connection creates a lasting personal link to those historic events.

Tim Richards travelled courtesy of Tourism Victoria.

Swings and Roundabouts in USA Tourism

A gloomy story this week in eTurboNews suggests that the USA is losing billions of dollars in inbound tourism because the outside world is convinced that entering the States will be a hassle - both in the time it takes to get a US visa, and in the potential delays and suspicion foisted on travellers on arrival.

Though they're a bit vague on whether the latter problem is based on reality, there definitely is a perception out here (outside the US) that immigration officials are looking for a reason to kick you out.

Certainly, some knee-jerk high profile knockbacks from recent years - like the singer formerly known as Cat Stevens - have made would-be travellers cautious.

This reluctance to head to America is ironic, though, for in one significant way there's no better time for outsiders to head Stateside.

For months now, my Australian dollar has been buying over 90 US cents, easily the best rate I can remember in my adult life. Travellers from other nations are also noticing the effect: the Euro, for example, recently rose to its best rate ever against the USD.

Curiously, the USA carries out little in the way of large-scale tourism promotion in other countries. Perhaps they could adapt Tourism Australia's recent unsuccessful campaign slogan, "Where the Bloody Hell Are Ya?", into something like "Where the Heck Are Ya - It's Cheap Here!".

As the article mentions, there are now plans for the US to set up a tourism promotion fund - by slugging incoming travellers more for their visas! Ouch. Hey guys, shouldn't you pay for it yourself?

Meanwhile, the Aussie dollar has quietly been rising against the Japanese yen as well. The tourism authorities there have cottoned onto the fact that their reputedly expensive destination is now distinctly cheaper for gaijin from Down Under and Europe; hence this promotion, Affordable Japan.

Hmm, that looks good... I think the US might have to wait until I've seen those cherry blossoms.

How 'Ya Gonna Keep 'Em Down on the Farm, After They've Seen Paree?

A report released last month by Tourism Australia (reported on by eTurboNews here) tries to raise the alarm over a generation of children living without the traditional family holiday taken somewhere within their own country.

Apparently, without fond memories of regular excursions to that beach house down the coast, and with their exposure to that new-fangled Intertube, these kids will be lured overseas by the promise of exotic foreign lands.

Well... I have to ask... what's wrong with that? One of the best things about travel is its ability to expose people to cultural experiences, and ways of thinking, that they would never have encountered at home.

Yeah, I know, there are plenty of people who go overseas and come back just as narrow-minded as ever. But on the other hand, there are plenty who come home and see their own country in a different light - and learn to mix the best from overseas with the best of their homeland.

Living in a hugely successful multicultural city, Melbourne, I can appreciate every day the richness that borrowing from other cultures bestows. Sure, a lot of our vibrant diversity has been introduced by the migrants who've come here from every continent; but a deal of it has come from Australians going overseas, doing the traditional months-long backpacking tour, and learning from their experiences.

And it's not as if those young people won't travel locally at all when they grow up. In our busy work lives, there will always be a market for those quick out-of-town getaways, to escape from work for a de-stressing break.

The demand for these mini-breaks has already revived some of our region's great Victorian-era resort towns (Daylesford, Queenscliff etc) decades after the car had threatened to make them redundant.

Though that's another inhibiting factor to local holidays - the cost (both environmental and financial) of running a car.

As much as aircraft emissions are complained about re climate change, could a traveller choosing an overseas holiday, then using public transport while in his/her destination, be causing less greenhouse gas emissions than if he/she went on a longish driving holiday? Interesting thought. Anyone got any figures?