Down Under Diary

By Jeff Rozelaar

This book was written principally to enable our large family, to share in the experiences that Sue, Pat, Roy and I had in the Far East and Australasia.

One day I hope, that some, if not all, will following our footsteps, and gain an equal amount of pleasure, from these distant travels.

Obviously, I would be extremely pleased, if the rest of the world found the contents in anyway entertaining.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781326631246

Book preview

Down Under Diary

Prologue

I’d always encouraged Sue to believe that, however much I loathed long distance air travel, I was sufficiently interested in taking The Big One to Australia and New Zealand. As tennis fans we had seen three of the planet's Grand Slams (Wimbledon, Roland Garos, Flushing Meadow), but not the one Down Under, in Melbourne. This event had an additional attraction. It would remove us from the miserable, cold and wet days of a typical English winter and place us in the Antipodeans Summer. The thought of a pre-season tan delighted my sun worshiping heart.

We doubted if we ever wanted to undertake such an epic journey on our own. So, when in 2016 our brother and sister-in-law, Roy and Pat, informed us that they were about to organise that very Odyssey, and asked if we would like to accompany them, we jumped at the chance. They were energetic, experienced and enthusiastic world travellers, who I had privately accorded the titles Action Man and Action Woman. I had every confidence in their ability to plan to the most minute detail and factor in all the requisite safety requirements. In their capable hands I might get fatigued, but would never (as far as it is possible in today’s uncertain world) be unnecessarily, at risk.

As the proposition was made in the third week in July, the actual decision required a last minute phone call . This was to get clearance for a mid-term holiday, from the deputy head of the school, where I worked one day a week, as a One to One English teacher. I was a little embarrassed at having to contact him, as I knew how busy he would be on what was the last day before the start of the summer vacation. Happily, he agreed, that in principle there would be no problem . Arrangements could easily be made for me to cover the missed lessons, by doing two days a week prior to, and just after, the absence, when school resumed in September. With a clear conscience and, in the knowledge that the job I enjoyed would not be put in jeopardy, I agreed to the Adventure.

Once given the green light, Roy and Pat, with some input from a travel agent, set about planning the trip. Sue also made a contribution. Her main assignment was to book two tickets for one of the Men’s Singles Semi-Finals . The hope was that Andy Murray would be one of the contestants on the only day that would be available to us. Her secondary task, was to secure two berths on the boat, that ferried passengers up and down the spectacular Milford Sound in the south island of New Zealand.

Partly due to my lack of computer and mobile phone skills I played little part in the planning process. One very modest task I did undertake, was to visit our local library, to borrow travel literature on some of the places on the itinerary.

Chapter 1:  Hong Kong

Tuesday 19th January

That was the day, or rather afternoon, of departure. I was in my normal state of apprehension, particularly as the 12 hour flight to Hong Kong was an overnighter and not sleeping a wink was unfortunately the most likely result.

During the simple task of loading the luggage into our estate car I experienced an unpleasant lifetime first. A passing pigeon pooped on my head. More than the temporary discomfort and embarrassment my concern centred on its significance as a bad omen. In contrast the others, as well as obviously finding the incident amusing, regarded the sign from above as an indicator of good luck.

I have to confess that Terminal 5 at Heathrow does make the tedious preliminaries before take-off as bearable as an anxious flyer can expect.

Fortune was to favour us on discovering that not only would we be transported in a brand new aircraft, but that the plane contained a large number of vacant seats. The cabin crew were to raise no objection to our leaving our allotted places, and spreading ourselves liberally over a row of seats, once the main meal had been served, the debris removed, and the shades pulled down over the windows. Despite this unexpected bonus, however, I still failed miserably to find dreamland. The only consolation was, that due to the lack of numbers, during my many trips to the loo, I was never confronted with the red lettering Engaged. First Class!

Wednesday 20th January

The eventual landing was relatively smooth, but our first glimpse of the Far East was gloomy with sullen grey cloud. There was a disappointing absence of the expected blue sky and sunshine.

On clearing customs and baggage reclaim, we optimistically emerged into the main concourse of Honk Kong airport, hoping to see a shuttle bus driver, displaying a board with our names upon it. No such man and sign was visible. By using a free phone and contacting the company Roy discovered that our escort was waiting in the wrong terminal. We were duly picked up, but I felt that the mishap did not augur well, for our stay in the former far flung outpost of the British Empire.

The journey was a slow grind through almost gridlocked streets. It was made even slower because the Cosmo hotel was at the end of the line, and other passengers had to be dropped off en route and their luggage removed from the hold.

After showering and settling into the reasonable rooms we decided to look for a restaurant, as our establishment did not possess one.

On leaving it, we made our first delightful discovery. We were only a few hundred yards away from the famous Happy Valley Racecourse and fortunately there was a floodlit meeting that very night. It has a unique setting, for the flat grass track is one of the few in the world, situated in a city centre. Instead of horses galloping across a rural landscape, they and their colourfully clad riders compete beneath a backcloth of skyscrapers. At first, I found it hard to believe what I was actually seeing.

The authorities, wishing to encourage the sport and the revenue it generates from gambling, only charge the equivalent of a single British pound for admission to the public enclosure. A figure far below what the punter is obliged to pay in our country, for the privilege of viewing live racing.

Once inside, the average red bloodied male had to fancy the attractive females dressed as jockeys, who were handing out flyers for various products.

On the other hand, it was impossible for us to actually fancy any, actual, runner, because the official race card and sporting newspaper were printed only in Chinese. The form of the horses therefore remained a mystery.

We stayed for three races, but the viewing was secondary to the eating. The racecourse provided the only opportunities to feed close to our hotel. As we were prohibited from entering those sections of the vast grandstand housing haute cuisine, we had to settle for economy class and feasted, under the gilded M, on Big Macs! So much for The Sport of Kings.

Thursday 21st January

I am a notoriously bad sleeper. It was therefore somewhat ironic that Sue’s slumber was disturbed on the first night, by talking in adjoining rooms, noisy plumbing and the traffic six floors below, whereas I claimed to be surprisingly pleased, that we had been allocated a quiet room.

Breakfast was brought to us. It consisted of two cups of coffee (each), a large bowl of fresh fruits, six slices of toast and three Danish pastries. As it was more than sufficient, we used the paper napkins provided to wrap the leftovers for lunch.

This improvised repast, would be taken at some convenient point, during the pre-booked tour of the city’s must see places.

A half empty minibus, courtesy of the Buffalo Tour company, arrived at the scheduled time, so I was able to stretch by legs comfortably, during the couriers commentary. The Chinese lady turned out to be a bit of a comic. Viewing the Europeans in front of her, she greeted us with a huge smile and a great opening one liner.....

You all look the same to me!

She followed this by turning to the man at the wheel and informing us that he was the company’s second best driver. We were due to have their number one, but he was unavailable due to yesterday’s accident.

The jokes were to continue to be on us. The first port of call was the famous hilltop Victoria Peak . From this vantage point the visitor is supposed to have a beautiful panoramic view.

On that particular morning all we could see was mist. In addition there was even a decided chill in the air. Although we had taken the precaution of wearing anoraks and long trousers, nobody had thought of packing woollen gloves!

Our humorous and resourceful guide did, however, have a ready made response to any assertion that we were being short changed. She pointed out a vast photographic mural of what was below us taken on a clear and sunny day. No mention was made of even a partial refund.

I was particularly disappointed, as many years before I had seen a romantic movie starring William Holden filmed on location in Hong Kong. One of its standout moments was his characters meeting with a beautiful Chinese girl on the Peak. The memorable soundtrack was the hit number Love is a many splendid thing. The theme music for our particularly visit could