The Fabled Gated Kangaroos of Morisset

Morisset (33 ° 7' S 151 ° 30' E) has a rather curious reputation. While local Australians might associate it negatively with the mental institute which opened here in 1909, more recently it became famous with foreign visitors attracted by the wild kangaroos that can be encountered in huge mobs on its grounds. Nanny State had the last say, unfortunately, and the hospital was sealed off with gated bridges to stop the punters from getting in. More fool Nan. As I previously mentioned, for close to 10 years I was held under virtual house arrest at my parents' property south at Lake Haven, on Budgewoi Lake. Even though Morisset was only 20km or so distant, I found it almost impossible to visit. In 2013 I had bravely caught the train which connects Wyong and Newcastle, and disembarked at Morisset. I sloshed around in the rain and mud, looking for a Buddhist temple which was supposedly existed around here. I was hoping it would be something like Nan Tien Temple, in the Illawarra, but it was actually fairly basic in comparison.

Cham Shan Temple, in Morisset (Australia, 2014)

It took almost a decade for my agoraphobia to recover sufficiently enough to allow me to return to Morisset, but this time I had my heart set on locating the kangaroos which had gone viral at the Psychiatric Hospital. As it turned out, this was a rather futile gesture, as the authorities had discretely put a stop to this unauthorized caper by sealing off all access roads to the facility. It is a pity because the hospital sounds fascinating in its own right. There is also reputed to a haunted ruins in the vicinity, with the rather ominous name of "Hospital for the Criminally Insane", and a cemetery containing many unmarked graves. It made me wonder: Wouldn't it be better to capitalize on your assets when it comes to tourism, rather than shutting the whole game down??? (For the full report of my defeat searching for the now gated kangaroos of Morisset, click here.)

Gravy Train

Flashy fast trains are not a feature of Australian life. Like the broadband speeds, or the service in the shops, trains are on the slow side here. Maybe that is the way they like things: clunky and oldschool. For some reason, Australians think you have to be poor to use public transport. This prejudice is reflected in the quality of the rolling stock, and the folks that roll upon them. In all of the Australia, the fastest and most prestigious passenger train is the XPT, which connects Sydney with the other eastern capitals, and attains a magnificent top speed of 160km per hour. Last month, I travelled with my Mum and Dad on the XPT to Maclean (return ticket: AUS$180), to attend the 60th birthday party of my "Auntie" Heather. Less than a year earlier, in the aftermath of the cataclysm there, we three had roamed northern Japan by shinkansen, and developed a taste for the finer aspects of rail travel. We have been spoiled, that is true, but we have been left with a reduced tolerance for excuses. And excuses, sadly, come all too often when travelling in Australia.



Not exactly a shinkansen, but it is the fastest train in this part of the world (Australia, 2012)

Maclean sits on a bend of the Clarence River, one of the numerous rivers of north-east New South Wales which cascade down from the volcanic plugs of the Great Dividing Range, to plunge into the frothy waters of the Pacific. To me the whole northern rivers region is a strange imposition of English rural idyll on a landscape which is borderline tropical, and ready to revolt. Maclean proudly promotes its Scottish colonial heritage, yet the town is ravaged by fruit bats. They hang from trees on the approaches to town, littering the streets with stinky sweet grind. If you could imagine what the United Kingdom would be like if it was overgrown with sugar cane and bananas, you would be on your way to understanding the NSW north coast. It is also, to be honest, one of my favourite places on Earth!

My parents enjoying the ride, on our way north (Australia, 2012)

Possibly due to the climate, the far north coast of NSW shelters a degenerate community of freaks, dropouts and IT geeks. Byron Bay is the capital of counter culture Australia, and marijuana is openly smoked on its streets. It is one of the magnets for the campervanloads of raucous young backpackers who ply the east coast every year, from Sydney all the way to Cairns, in the canefields of northern Queensland. On Woodford Island near Maclean there is a guy who lives in a tent on the hill and makes his own surfboards to sell. The whole vibe is chilled and famously laid back. Dependent on social security payments, and unable to afford their own cars, many folk rely on the XPT to get around. We were carrying quite a few of them as we rolled, wheeling through Wyee (33°10′55″S, 151°29′06″E), with its big Aboriginal reserve, Fassifern finding it as leafy as its name implied, and then right through the industrial heartland of the Hunter Valley, grassy and bare, steelworks and committee buildings adorned with signs like "Proud to be Union!"  Through Broadmeadow and its attendant rustbelt, coal trains ambling towards the sea, Taree (31°54′0″S, 152°27′0″E), Seftall and thence to Grafton. Or so the timetable inferred. You can never quite tell in Australia, however, there is always something to derail your plans. I settled back in my seat, and tried my hardest to relax. The couple seated behind me were in fine spirits, and from snippets of their conversation which carried forward, I was able to ascertain that they were on their way to Coffs Harbour, a large coastal resort renowned for its bananas. We used to go up there, when we was kids.

Paddock bashing, up the east coast! (Australia, 2012)

Sitting on trains in Australia, you are often privy to some colourful conversations, passengers are not at all afraid to hang their dirty laundry out. Teenage girls discuss their recent court appearance on mobile phones, without the merest hint of shame. Burglars plan their next heists.

There be critters up here! Wallaby, on Woodford Island, near Maclean (Australia, 2012)

We were all riding the gravy train together: deadbeats, dreadlocks, restless desperates, trailer trash, jailbirds and single mothers. Straying into a rare pocket of data connectivity close to the end of the trip, I was astounded to discover that daily AdSense earnings had surged, to a healthy ¥1647. Could this be a sign of the long-awaited recovery, I wondered. Was this because I added that canonical tag to Tamil Girls? I was unable to see whether it was a one-off fluke, or the result of an upswing in traffic. But it lifted me in a good mood, for the short vacation which was about to start!

Duty Free

After a long hiatus from the Akihabara scene, I returned to my former stamping ground today, to buy some beats at Tower Records inside Yodobashi Camera's cavernous new complex. It was a public holiday, and as soon as I stepped out of the subway station into the crowds and warm sun, I knew I had been away too long. So much energy, so much potential... Akihabara is truly an international city, the multicultural heart of Japan. In particular there seem to be a lot of Indians in the quarter these days, buying entire electronic outfits for their homes, and hunting for bargains in duty free stores. A few years ago I once spotted a Papuan looking family strolling magnificently along Chuo Dori. Not the sort of folk you pass by every day, at least in this part of the world! Akihabara has definitely become the biggest electronics market in Asia, and Yodobashi Camera is large enough to be a city in its own right, with everything you could ever need inside. 

German tourist in Akihabara, as captured by Crowded World (Japan, 2007)

Anyway, I found a CD, and careened home courtesy of my Toei monthly pass, feeling somewhat wistful that I didn't live downtown any longer. The Toei card will help, though. Before too long, I will be back in Akihabara again.

That's a given.