There are a lot of American girls here. For some reason they are unable to talk. They must SHOUT at each other all the time. And they must insert “like” into every sentence with unbelievable frequency. You may think that Dundrum girls on the green Luas line who onlythink they’re American are annoying, but it’s nothing compared to this. On the train from Sydney to Adelaide, trying to sleep, I counted 57 “likes” in three minutes, like. Having said that everybody’s accent here sounds exaggerated. It’s more because we’re surrounded by Aussies; similarly when you hear an Irish actor on an American sitcom and they sound like they’re putting it on. We had to ring Meteor at one point and everybody sounded ludicrous.

We landed in Sydney from Singapore and the first mistake was deciding to get a taxi to our hostel. It cost $45 and the driver was the biggest prick we’ve yet encountered, who went spastic when I didn’t have an exact address. We arrived at the hostel and met the eccentric owner Otto who asked for the full $545 in cash up-front, despite having my credit card number already, before we’d even seen the room. We told him we’d bring the cash tomorrow, to which he said “You’re really trying my patience my friend” in that Australian way of being both whimsical and very serious at the same time.

Having dumped our bags and tried his patience, we went out at about 10pm to find a meal and a drink. It was a bank holiday, and on a bank holiday the opposite seems to happen to at home; people don’t go out. Everywhere was closed. We finally found a place down at Bondi beach serving pies and wine and I may be exaggerating but these were the best pies ever made. Well, not really, but we hadn’t eaten properly for 18 hours so they were tasty as hell.

The next day we took the bus into Sydney, which was exactly as sunny and clean and packed with quality restaurants as we remembered. A beer in the Rocks (the original Sydney settlement) was followed by another beer by the Opera House. The combination of the Opera House, the Harbour Bridge and sunshine glistening on the clear water makes the Sydney Harbour area one of the most impressively beautiful places to be. We wandered down to Darling Harbour for a bottle of wine and ended up eating in the fast food hall for dinner. We also sorted our bank cards, phones, and took out the cash for Otto, the hostel owner.

When we arrived home at 11pm we knocked on his door to give him the cash but there was no answer. So off we went to the leaba only to be woken at exactly 9am the next morning by a loud banging on the door. It was Otto looking for his money. I was not happy with this at all. Marie gave him the cash and we went down to breakfast. Blurry-eyed, I arrived in the breakfast room and Otto did a big dramatic double take saying “I’ve never seen you before!” We had a 20 minute conversation the previous day. What he said next was weirder. “So, when are your children coming down for breakfast?” From then on we ate breakfast in our room.

Over the next couple of days we explored the suburbs a bit and went on a particularly enjoyable harbour dinner cruise (thanks Jo). The combination of wine and food and swaying boat, however, left me in no mood to continue drinking afterwards.

Yesterday we took the Indian Pacific train to Adelaide via Broken Hill (24 hours – for comments about Broken Hill view the photos in large format) in reclining seats rather than cabins because it was cheaper. I don’t think I’ve ever had to sleep in anything as uncomfortable. We didn’t sleep at all, though had we brought pillows and blankets it may have been easier to cope. That is the shortest of the inter-city journeys, and the cabins cost 10 times as much as the seats. I think we’ll be flying from now on.