Melbourne, Victoria, Oz

Still getting used to some of the lingo. The Aussies love their abbrevos. I've mastered as much as is nesso (ergo 'I'm stockin up the Ute with a sixie of stubbies for a trip to the Blueys this arvo'), but sometimes I struggle to remember whether a pint is known as a schooner in this particular part of Oz, or if the word 'stubbie' can also apply to a 'long-neckie'. The first bar I entered in Oz had a sign up saying 'No thongs after 9 pm'. This seemed rather draconian, and I began to think"Gay joint, in Cairns, Australia? Surely not..." Anticipating the appearance of a belt-tweaking bottom inspector at the appointed hour, I was relieved to learn that 'thong' is local for 'flip-flop'. As you were.

Have arrived in Melby after a pleasant bit of rental-car overlanding from the Blue Mountains. As befits this most civilised mode of travel in a big country with good roads, and as perfected on several trips Out West in the US, the following formula was applied: choose a destination (in this case Mt Arapiles in NW Victoria), work out how long it will take to drive there by the direct route (which is always flat and boring, and in this case a disheartening 18 hours, equating to 2 days od solid drudgery), double or treble it and take the scenic route (in this case the coastal Prince's Highway via Eden in the bottom RH corner), stop as often as you like, and I mean often, and let the driving be done when you feel like it. Hardly any traffic, and great stuff.

Have seen many sandstone edges, spotted dolphins from the shore, hugged a wombat in a wildlife sanctuary, camped by the roaring Pacific Ocean, swum at 90-Mile Beach, hiked Mount Oberon, gazed at the southernmost point of mainland Oz, and been to a Killer Whale museum in Eden where I learned of an unlikely symbiosis between orcas - led by head honch Old Tom whose skeleton is in the museum - and human hunters, who had an unspoken pact to bring in and slaughter the baleen whales as they migrated past (the orcas raised the alarm, rounded up the baleens, then the whalers harpooned them, killed them and took the carcasses leaving the lips and tongues for the orcas. The human whalers were pretty proficient, and even bagged a 97-foot bluey using a hand harpoon from a rowing boat. Bastards, we may kneejerk, but there you go, those were the times [as it happens, the Abo's burned nearly all the rainfo to a crisp and would have finished the job irreverso if Cookey's boys hadn't zapped 'em all with smallo]). And listened to a lot of Richard Thompson, Guided by Voices, early REM, Twisted Nerve, Jesse Malin and an excellent local radio station called Triple J.