The Exclusive Backpackers in Perth offered a pick up from the station, but when we phoned, they were playing hard to get so we were forced to take a taxi. This did nothing for my mood after another uncomfortable night on the Indian Pacific. All was forgiven, however, when we arrived to find the place was run by the wonderful Vasso, a charming Greek lady who made us feel at home straight away. Shame the same couldnt be said for the majority of our fellow guests. It turned out that several of them were long term guests at the hostel, as they were in Perth on Working Holiday Visas. They mainly stuck together in their own little 'clique' and made us 'short term stayers' feel as though we were about as welcome as a fart in a spacesuit. It wasnt as if we were cramping their style as they were probably the dullest people we'd encountered so far. Fortunately, there were other newbies who we could chat to, particularly John, a Malaysian, who was in Australia sourcing products for his small wine business, and a retired French-Canadian couple, on a round the world trip who were convinced that Alex was German (!).
After getting our bearings in the city centre, we took a train to Fremantle which was a really laid back and groovy kind of place. There was a bohemian atmosphere about the place with health food shops jostling with craft stores while down the road was the 'capuccino strip' where trendy cafes served al fresco frothy coffee to well heeled people watchers. We ended up making several trips, to the arty crafty market, the cinema, the interesting dusty second-hand hand bookshops, Fremantles' pull was magnetic and definitely the kind of place we'd swap home for, given half a chance.
Back in Perth, we strolled along the the Swan River down to Herrison Island where the park was home to a small colony of kangaroos. Although elusive, we eventually found them around dusk and as we sat quietly watching them graze, we were treated to a beautiful sunset, whispy clouds burning red against the darkening sky over the city and reflected in the shimmering waters of the river.
We took a bus to Kings' Park. It was a Saturday afternoon and several wedding parties clustered around brides and grooms who were being choreographed by photographers as we strolled past. There was a music festival taking place, headlined by James Brown. Tickets were expensive and security was tight but, as the concert was in the open air, we stretched out on the grass with the weekend papers and enjoyed the entertainment for free.
One of our 'must do's' in Perth was a trip to Cottesloe Beach. It's been made famous by what seems to be an annual junket for GMTV staff to soak up the Ozzie sunshine, with the excuse of broadcasting greetings from British expats on the beach to their families back home. On the way to the station, we passed a guy who looked identical to someone I knew from work back in Manchester. Absolutely positive Peter couldnt be in Perth, I was going to carry on walking the other way, but Alex insisted that, if I thought it might be him I should catch him up... what's the worst that could happen? Apart from looking an idiot, which I have a morbid fear of but manage to achieve on a regular basis, I had nothing to lose. We ended up having coffee and cakes with Peter and his family, while swapping ideas of 'what to do and see in Perth'. Eventually we headed off for the beach in a state of disbelief, the chances of bumping into someone from back home must have been a billion to one.
The beach, when we finally got there, was as pretty as we remembered it being on breakfast telly, back in the UK, in the depths of winter. However the 'Fremantle Doctor', a stiff afternoon breeze so named because it administers a dose of cool air to the overheating locals, was driving mini sand tornados along the beach. So we went for a walk along the front admiring the scenery and the rows of expensive looking real estate facing the sea. The trees around Cottesloe provided perches for hordes of rainbow coloured rosellas and noisy galahs which swooped, squawked and 'cooed' overhead as we headed to the station for our train back to the city.
Our final Australian adventure was a trip to the unnappealing sounding Rottnest Island, just off the coast in the Indian Ocean. We caught the ferry from Fremantle and 20 minutes later docked into the harbour at Rottnest. Despite the name, which came about because early Europeans mistook the small indigenous marsupial the Quokka as a giant rat, the island is in fact beautiful, as we soon discovered pedalling around the island on hired bikes.
We cycled in an anticlockwise direction, encountering several sandy bays on the way. The air smelled of the sea, the sun shone and the natural beauty of the island made us eager to explore, not believing that the next bay could be as stunning as the last. Cycling around the island was also blissfully stress free as no vehicles were allowed there apart from the odd round-the-island bus, the only down side was that you had to wear strange black polystyrene cycle helmets as it was against the law to ride without them. We stopped for lunch at Stark Bay which was secluded and gorgeous but Cape Vlamingh was perfect. A rocky point provided the drama of crashing surf to our left and to the right a pod of dolphins lazily rode the swell, circling in the ocean just off shore.
During the ride back to Thompson Bay we had a Quokka encounter. Getting close to the unbearably cute little fellas was easy. We sidled up to a couple of friendly looking prospects and started to pour a gentle trickle of water from our bottles. That got their attention and they hopped over to greedily drink, dragging their admittedly rat-like tails behind them!
We were just in time for the ferry and were soon back in Fremantle where we bid farewell with a cappuccino on the strip. Then it was back to the city to get our stuff together, we'd soon be catching an early plane to Bangkok!
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