SVEN-HANSEN.DK - Mit liv - Mitt liv - My life

ENGLISH VERSION 6

OK! It was then "The Alice". Head towards the next destination, which is Ulara, Ayers Rock, small 500 kilometers to the southwest. It was a trip with the usual food stops. And among other things, here is also a camel farm, where you can buy a ride on top of such a long-legged case. I was now more thirsty, so I drank a few liters of soda in the shade of some other tree instead.

Along the way we also stopped at a salt lake. It is a salt lake where only water is covered during the rainy season. The driver tells us that in a moment we may also see the only rubber tree in the Northern Territory. Very funny – it turns out to be an old dried out tree that has been decorated with 15-20 old car tires.

The hotel at Ulara was expensive, so I am staying in a hostel this time. So I can save up to § 50 a day and that helps nicely on my wallet, which is getting as dry as the desert here.

Ulara is a city in the bush. Big and pink and here you can buy everything possible and impossible in tourist things and for the necessities of life. If the money is then and brought in abundant goals!

In the afternoon, the bus goes towards Olgabjergene, 36 km west of Ayers Rock. Great to see the mountains, just a shame there is no time for further expeditions into the mountains, on such a bus ride. But a quick little trip to "Mt. Olga Gorge" there will be time for before my bus whizzes off again.

And I just have to remember to say that the roads here are a maximum jumping board of the tough type. It could serve as the ultimate test for developing cars. If the car can keep driving here, a trip to the moon is almost nothing.

Well through the jumps and rattlesnakes when we reach the goal. I think we were together 250-300 curious here, to watch the sunset. Or rather see Ayers Rock change colors like a Chameleon. Of course, it was not as nice as on the postcards, quite clear. But amazing to see so many color changes the rocks can show in the glow of the sunset. And then it is "just" a rock that has no fixed "connection" has in the underlying ground, but just a loose rock in the desert.

From a distance, "The Rock" does not seem like much. And again, these would mean that you have to spend for these processes. Everything is clear, even at very great distances. So it is almost impossible to judge distances, but also sizes of things become difficult to judge. "The Rock" just gets bigger and bigger until you stand at the foot of it. Wow, it is 350 meters high, 3.5 km long and over 9 kilometers in circumference, so you get a little overwhelmed by the size of the loose stone you intend to climb.

Well, but I was determined to climb the stone now that I was here. I had seen it from a distance and in pictures, but You can not help but be surprised when You stand at the foot of it. It was huge and we can only see a third of the way up. And of course I also have to be skilled and climb too much in the first place, smart as I am now. Whoa, can I just take a break on the first plateau, there goes enough. Breathe deeply here so much that I get a giant cigarette cough (can clearly taste the old tar), even though it's now over 2 years since I stopped using the daily 60 Cecil or Prince. It was probably disgusting to cough up here.

But the top was reached and there is a book where I write my name and a little greeting to the world. It was together with sweet Kirsten that I met on the way up. We had a break together where we moaned hello and other things and we had a good little talk about this and that. Kirsten is from Ferritslev on Funen, 10 km west of Nyborg. Really weird to have to travel this trip halfway around the earth and stand on top of a rock, somewhere in Australia and here chat a bit with Kirsten from Funen. But not only that, because there was also a whole family from Jutland at the same time. So no wonder if Australians and Americans go out to meet on the Sky Mountain in Jutland?

But down the stone block again. Sure very healthy with such a climb, but it pulls strongly in the legs now. Get on the bus again, to take a walk around the rock, where we take a short break at "Maggie Springs", one of many eternal water holes that the natives have used for millennia.

As we stand here by the stone, named after a South Australian governor in 1873, by William Gosse. Here you can better understand that the natives have regarded it as something sacred. It's big, yes it is. This is where the natives had many of their ritual activities at the stone, which they call "Uluru".

Uluru has belonged to the state, but was officially given back to the natives, at the same time as the area was made a National Park in September 1986.

Thats it. I have always wanted to put up with Ayers Rock if I ever came to Australia. Another old idea, or dream if you will, has been fulfilled. Actually really nice when things succeed and not just stay on the dream.

Get on the bus for the return trip to Yulara. I have a few days here so there is some time to relax too. So now I have to see getting around town and looking at things. Seems almost like there is too much pink color here. But the color now fits very well into the landscape color.

The next day, there is a bus departure towards Mt. Isa with bus change in Alice Springs. The driver of the bus is also called Sven Hansen just like me. Slightly strange. He came here 10 years ago as a bricklayer. But he quickly got tired of working out there because it was poorly paid the same way mechanics are here (his explanation). He dropped out of the profession and works for Greyhound instead, earning more than § 35,000 a year. Good salary one thinks, but he is also behind the wheel for a minimum of 60 hours a week. So I guess now it will probably be tiring in the long run.

Sven lives in Alice Springs and confirms that the town completely changed 6-7 years back, in the early 80s, when the tourist "machine" came to town and the village was modernized into a tourist center. It created work, but all the charm and history has been lost. So much for progress.

On the way from Yulara to Alice, where we have to wait for the next bus, I have a good chat with Kirsten from Funen again and her sister Sarah and her sister's daughter Claudia, who is on an extended stay in the big country. Fresh and sweet girls who just do what so many people talk about. Follow the dreams and see our world before it's too late. I wish them good luck on their continued journey because they stay a little in Alice and I will continue. But who knows, maybe one day we'll meet for a herring meal on the other side of the Earth somewhere in Dannevang. So if I still come around Ferritslev on Funen, I can ask for Kirsten, while I am still there. Then one must hope that there are not too many named Kirsten.

While I was waiting in Alice, I got to have a chat with Dave, who was originally from England. Dave met his wife in Italy but now lives in Melbourne. The wife is not on the trip here and Dave prefers to talk around her, for some reason. Yes, I meet a lot of traveled people on my way and get a lot of stories that confirm that life is full of people who like me have a great desire to experience now instead of rolling thumbs until it may be too late to experience.

Finally to the north again. The clock says 2025 and I see my first live kangaroo in this country. There have been many dead on the roads, but they are not really talked to. But now I better understand they are next to the roads. The driver tells and I can even experience that they stand nicely and wait up to 20 meters before the bus is there. Then they resolutely jump out in front of the bus. Half of them do, says the driver. But there they do not differ from the deer at home in Denmark. They wait in the dark next to the road, because then when the road is lit by the headlights, they jump out where they can see something, instead of staying inside in the dark. Logist, right?

I was then just about to think that I would never get to see a kangaroo in its own country, alive and in freedom, with the far too many who ended their lives on the country roads here. But I wonder if it will succeed one day anyway. But then during the midnight break in "Ten Tree Roadhouse," two of them quietly came in the door and mingled with the guests. Of course I am not able to photograph the animals as I have no flash on the camera (why should I have that too?). Stupid right now!

Full speed ahead towards the bus "Three Ways", where I have to change to the bus towards Mt.Isa. – Breakfast stop happens in Camooweal, a town of just 300 inhabitants, spread over 200 aboriginals and the rest is "White Fellows."

We drive to Mt.Isa along the Barkley Highway, which could easily be a fantastic competitor roller coaster at Tivoli in Copenhagen.

Just before lunch time we arrive at Mt.Isa, which according to "Guinness Records" is the world's largest city, if you look at the area that the city council manages. The city council manages an area from the Northern Territory in the west, Burke Shire in the north, Cloncurry Shire in the east and Bouli Shire in the south, giving an area of ​​40,778 square kilometers. Just another 4,000 km2, then Denmark can be in the area. But now there are only 26,000 inhabitants to the area, so there is plenty of room for the elbows here.

On my traditional evening walk, I see a large building and an open door where the light looks out. And what's more natural than to casually look in and see, curious as I am now.

Yes, why not! And now I am suddenly among Ramses, Nebuchadnezzar, King David, Sphinxes, Pyramids and Babylon, as it turns out to be a great exhibition about ancient Egypt with the Valley of the Kings and all those involved at the time when I can remember everything too a bit of from tide n of school where I have been more busy looking at the girls and was almost indifferent to what the teachers said in wise words.

But it's really interesting. And I also get to see a bigger picture slide show with lectures on the subject, which I for some reason, listened very attentively to and it turned out to be more than interesting. So who knows, maybe one day I will be on all fours, on my way into some Pyramid place in the Egyptian giant sandbox.

The pyramids are some huge sizes. I just read a note that the largest contain 2.3 million stones, each weighing 3 tons. And then our old friend Napoleon, calculated that with them he could build a wall, 30 centimeters thick and 3 meters high, all the way around France. It says a bit about how many stones have been used for these giants in the desert, just as it is incredible to think it has happened by hand.

But back to Mt.Isa, I had an idea of ​​being the Australian city, which I have seen in tourist brochures and read about in the old books (among others Arne Falk Rønne) before departure. No tall buildings and streets with wide boulevards. Well, but my visions of a city a'la the Wild West and a fairly relaxed lifestyle held almost true, in stark contrast to the speed and pace that characterize major cities like Brisbane and Sydney.

I have said before about aboriginals when I visited Katherine in the north that many were not completely sober, not to exaggerate, with their "scents" and clothes, or perhaps lack thereof.

Here in Mt.Isa it is completely different, at least along what must be the main street. There are a lot of the not so sober and just as many in fine clothes and with seemingly busy at work. It has changed a bit the vision that most were social enjoyers, which one got the impression of in e.g. Katherine and other outback towns I have visited along the way. Nice when things are directed in a very positive direction.

Mt.Isa is a mining town. The mine is the largest work area and employs almost 5,000 people, of which approx. 2000 works underground in the mine. And there is a lot to do, because the mine is one of the few in the world where silver, copper, lead and zinc are produced in the same area.

There are 380 kilometers of tunnel located in an area of ​​about 4 times 1 km and down to 1 km below the surface. There is a 120 km long computer-controlled railway network in the tunnels. It is one of the most advanced and mechanized mines in the world, with a security not found in other mines in the world.

It would also have been really good if I had had a little more money so I could go out to see all the many things in the area. But my savings are in Brisbane and I'm probably doing very well there too. But it is now not so much money left and I still have a few places I would like to experience before leaving the country "down under".

But I just found something that fits my current amount of money. A diner with "Workers Price" in a room behind the bar. The more affluent can eat in the room facing the street at 3 times higher prices. So I try to look like a "worker" and get my plate filled for $ 1.75, which must be said to be cheap for a super good big plate of food with the right to take more from the pot, but that was already filled up the first time. There was no stinginess in the distribution of calories here.

If the road falls by one day, then it's in "The Tavern's" on Isa Street, You can save yourself a cheap and good meal food if the spirit still exists. And it is between 1130 and 1400 that you can have your stomach filled at the "Workers price" if you are just running into temporary poverty.

But I have to say goodbye to Mt.Isa and drive south to Bouli, a real Outback town where we have a short break before we rush out onto the road again and drive towards the town of Winton.

But between Bouli and Winton we find the Hamilton Hotel, right in the middle of Bushland. There is simply nothing but emptiness as far as the eye can see. The Hamilton Hotel is exactly what my imagination has imagined of an Outback hotel. There is a law that says it must be called Hotel, in order to serve beer and spirits. The hotel is self-sufficient with several things. Among other things, other things are collected in barrels, via pipelines from all the roofs when it rains and also water is fetched from a well, where a wind turbine pumps the water up from the underground..

The electricity comes from a generator in the backyard. I just went out to wash the dust off my hands in a dilapidated building behind the house before we were to eat. Was as usual a little curious to know where the hot water came from and looked behind the old wooden building. Jojo, who came a steel pipe from one of several water tanks, further down to an old iron barrel hanging over a fire and then on to the houses and the waiting hot water taps. Simple and straightforward what can be done with simple means. And I must then remember to say that the water was furiously hot here.

The walls of the bar are completely overwritten with the names of the visitors over the years. And now my signature can also be found here. The wall also contains information that the nearest town is Bouli which we came from, 48 miles away and the next town, Winton, is 186 miles away and there we are heading. Just talk about getting out there where you write after the fire department. And it's about remembering everything when you're in town to shop.

Here at the eatery, I got what I quickly christened a real Outback Burger. One takes: A large, white loaf, divides it and burns it black over the fire. Between the charcoal pieces is placed an oversized ground beef with onions and a little snask. And I ordered 2 !! But then the worst hunger was probably gone too – wow!

Well filled and the trip continues towards Winton. Most of the trip, luckily on asphalt, so it is possible to hear what one is thinking. And so it is also to speak again. And the man next to me is named John and speaks like a machine gun. Not quite easy to understand what he is saying when he speaks the Australian inland language. But I understand that John has just finished training sheep shearers – Sheepshearer.

Coincidentally, I've put John's teacher in action before, we found out. It was a day inside the Queens Mall, the pedestrian street in Brisbane. It was a show of sheep shearing that left the sheep looking like newborns without clothes on.

John's teacher is so good that he has several Australian and international championships, with 330 haircuts in one working day. By comparison, John could handle around 120 a day, which is considered really good here.

There are many kangaroos on the roads. But they are now much wiser here than in the Northern Territory, which were actually visible by the roadside before jumping out in front of the bus. Here they are so skilled that they hide behind a tree or a rock and then jump out in front of the bus where the driver does not have a chance to avoid a collision.

It was also very close to the bus was about to send some cattle to the eternal cowsheds. At appropriate intervals, they had simply laid down to sleep on the warm black asphalt. Very inventive and I just have to add that this is at night where there is a very dark out here in the middle of nowhere. And the night is long here near the equator, where day and night are almost equal in length, depending on the season.

The area we pass is called "Waltzing Matilda Country" and is a huge area where the towns of Mt.Isa, Cloncurry. Hughenden, Winton and Bouli are located. And just to make the story short about "Waltzing Matilda" I will blah. mention that it was written by Andrew Barton "Banjo" Paterson in 1895, at Dagworth Station to music played by Christina MacPhersson.

The actual tune is Scottish and was composed by James Barr around 1805. It has so far not been known to have words put on the notes before Paterson did so in 1895. And it's actually a rather sad story of a bad conscience. H is it is the story very short.

A wanderer took a break at a "Billabong" (dammed water hole). He makes a cup of tea in his "Billy" (a tin bucket). Then a "jumbuck" (a sheep) comes down to the waterhole to drink. The man takes the sheep and puts it in his "Tuckerbag" (a bag). Then comes a "Squatter" (a farmer) on a thoroughbred horse, along with 3 policemen who ask what he has in his tuckerbag. And to avoid the penalty of theft, the man jumps into the pond and drowns himself in the shade of a Coolabah tree. – Look, it was a little fairy tale from the singing world.

The song now has little hold in reality. It is believed that Paterson got the idea for this Swagman's suicide due to a guilty conscience, from a suicide committed by a Frenchy Hoffmeister who shot himself at a nearby Billabong a few months before.

The same Hoffmeister had been active in an attack on Dagworth Station, in which buildings were burned and many animals were also lost. It was part of many trade union actions that the unions were responsible for the timeperiod.

Hoffmeister discovered and recognized a little too late, the pointlessness of innocent animals being victims of a conflict between organized and unorganized sheep shearers. He paid his own bill, with his suicide instead of being held accountable in court.

The song "Waltzing Matilda" became widely known around 1903, when James Inglis of Sydney was granted rights. At the time, the song was being used in the commercial for his Billy tee.

But enough about Mathilda and back to reality. I am now back in Brisbane, where I have borrowed a room from Vibeke and Peter in Holland Park. I terminated the lease on my house as there was no need to spend money on it as I only had to use space for the suitcase and a little something else. If I did not remember it then in the travel confusion, then I would like to send both Vibeke and Peter a thousand thanks for the help at the time.

But I'm only home one day, this time. I use the time to get the answer to the extensive piles of letters that have piled up while I was on a tour of the country. Nice to get letters from family and friends at home, with all the nice words along the way. Many words are written, but I also remember to have fun with my super friends Vibeke and Peter before bed.

But now I do not have to sleep that long. It's time to get up again and up to the Greyhound bus terminal in Brisbane. Put on your hat and look down at your scrotum, Uff! Money is running low now, so I might as well use the penultimate (the last ones are to Bangkok) and see as much of the country as possible.

Of course, there is not much to see at night, but while we are speeding away, there is some other war and gangster movie on the bus video. Because I've booked into Greyhound's Five Star Service. Good with better legroom and shorter driving time, as it does not stop as often on these trips. Not a bad thing when there is more than a 22 hour drive ahead before we reach Melbourne in southern Australia.

The only thing I can see at midnight is that we are crossing the southern state border in New South Wales. But the night also says goodnight to me. I have become quite good at sleeping in the bus and with the extra legroom here, I sleep quite well and really only wake up when the sun starts in the east. Where else?

And now we have come as far as the village of Dubbo. And now big changes are starting to come in the landscape compared to the dry northern and central Australia that I have been driving through so far. Here it is not the low Mulga trees and Spinifex grass that dominate. Here there are green fields and the trees are tall and green. There is much more vegetation, which can also be seen in the smaller folds for the animals. Because there is much more grass and leaves, there is much more food on less soil than inland. With a little good will, it may well be reminiscent of a good Danish farmland around here.

Finally we arrive in Melbourne after 1721 kilometers drive from Brisbane. It's early evening and fucking cold here. So now it's about finding Hotel Victoria at 215 Little Collins Street. A beauty at the bus terminal puts 2 crosses on a card she gives me. "Here you are and here it is Hotel Victoria," she says with a big smile. Maybe she's smiling because she knows the crossroads with "Here You are" is set on a wrong street corner.

The wrong cross leads me out on a half hour walk, in the wrong direction, before a bright spot in the brain realizes that something is not right. I go back and start over. Considered a moment to go in and get the princess to eat the card, but decide that it's probably better that I keep it. So off in the opposite direction and voila, it was on the street and the hotel. And with an open bar and a willing waiter, life is just as beautiful again.

But first a long hot bath after a long day on the bus. And then I got shaved and cared for a long nose I got because of the cold air coming from the bus' air conditioning. In hot Queensland there was cold air from the radiator and here in the south of Victoria, there is hot air instead. So everything has been really prepared for an old-fashioned running nose.

But then it is good that you can buy the tablets for the long nose here in the stores. I took a few pills on the way in the bus and now I want to take 2 more. So right now, I'm getting control of the nasal imitation of Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. You get a little sleepy from the pills, but I forget that so I can explore the city instead of being in bed and doing nothing. Now it's Saturday night in Melbourne, and what do you do on such a night? Good guess! I had to go out to see how the musical part of the city works, now I'm here. And here is quite nice and I also fiddle around at the various bars and discos and take the evening as it comes. Incredibly early they start here. Already at 19-20, music and dancing are underway.

Uhadada! I wake up very tired on Sunday morning and spend most of the day repairing my head, which is badly damaged by exploring the secrets of Melbourne's nightlife. So the rest of the day will be very quiet and just see a lot of the city and then convince me that the next night will be quiet and calm. HA!

Monday morning, of course, I'm pretty square in the head again. I do not know if I just threw some good experiences in the city away in barture, but what? I have met a lot of funny people who, like myself, live life while it is there. And today, I was also going straight down to Greyhound, to hear if my bag had arrived. No, no bag, so now we have to see.

I would have sailed on the Yarra River, but the boat is obviously not here today because it is some quay work. It's my usual luck, but instead I walk along the Yarra River and see the area. Actually very nice here!

I then walk through some beautiful gardens, to find the "Museum of Performing Arts" I would like to visit. Hmmm, of course it's just closed on Mondays here in Melbourne, what else?

But it does not matter now, because I can just see the exhibition about the romanticized highway robber Ned Kelly instead, who "worked" in the area many years ago. Finally I find the museum, but there are higher powers that decide. Of course, the museum is also very closed on Mondays! So what do you get out of it? Jooo, NEVER visit Melbourne on a Monday if you are curious to find out what the city's history can tell us.

Well, I have instead seen James Cook's house, as it was in England, where it was built in 1755. How? Yes, it was sold at auction in 1933, taken down stone by stone and packed in boxes and containers that were sailed here to the city, to be unpacked and put together stone by stone in exact copy so I could see it here in Melbourne 1987. So I think it was very thoughtful of them. Just for my sake, nooo!

Otherwise, I spend the day looking for the city in the seams. Melbourne is a very friendly city that in many ways resembles London. There is a lot of English here, not least the language you have to listen to to hear the Australian accent here. But it's neither India, London or other big cities You can see in street pictures here. No, it's very much Chinese people who are everywhere in the city. There are over 30,000 Chinese in Melbourne, of course most concentrated in Chinatown, but you meet these very smiling and friendly people everywhere. And where the Chinese are, you will also find incredibly exciting places to eat. As always I will definitely have to visit these eateries, to try some of their exciting dishes of food.

The weather here may correspond to a Danish autumn. We are in mid-July, and therefore winter in Australia. Lots of leafless trees everywhere, except for the many relocated palm trees, which somehow do not really fit into the street scene here. And then here's piss cold, if I do not just find a confused ray of sunshine, I just have to go in to warm myself.

There's something nice here, I've not seen anywhere else. It is possible to walk under many of the large buildings here, instead of walking on the road. Since basements in several places are equipped with shops, as well as many courtyards and small streets between the houses, are covered, so beautiful shop arcades have been created instead, so it is actually quite hot to shop here, even though it is winter. An idea that could be used in many Nordic cities, if otherwise rigid authorities could be a little flexible and bend the rules.

But the day ends and the bus starts from Melbourne towards Sydney. Not so much to tell as the trip takes place at night so it will be a sleep trip. Instead, I experience a fantastic dawn where the sun welcomes me to Sydney, with the sharp silhouettes of Harbor Bridge and Sydney Tower telling me that now we are ready for a warm reunion with the city as I begin a healthy morning hike tour through Hyde Park and find a place that serves a good breakfast.

Well satisfied in the stomach I find the harbor to then find a tour boat so I can see the city from the water. One thing I missed the last time I was here. But better late than never and the boat starts sailing out through Port Jackson which is Sydney's great natural harbor.

First, the boat rounds an island where the original first immigrants set foot. But in the middle of the 18th century, when England was at war with Russia, the island was cut down to water level, to build a fort and then the island came to be called Fort Denison.

So we sailed around Garden Island, which is Australia's most important Marine base, with many anchored warships ready to defend Australia and the surrounding area.

Clarke Island is now a popular recreational center that could be seen from the water. Then past Shark Island, which is named because of the incredible number of sharks that live around the island. I looked but did not see anyone, but I wonder if they just swam for lunch at the bathers at Bondi Beach?

The boat slid into Neutral Bay, which got its name in 1789, when England was at war (aren't they always at war, the English?) With France. Now the bay is being used as a waiting place for ships that are on their way to dock. From there, we sailed over Blues Point, which is the deepest spot in Sydney Harbor, with its 49 meters at low tide.

The trip went deep into the natural harbor until we exit at Gladesville Bridge and return from there. When the bridge construction was completed in 1964, it was the bridge in the world that had the longest free span between the towers, with the colossal steel sections with billions of rivets.

It was a trip of just over 2 ½ hours which can really be recommended to anyone visiting Sydney. There are several tours to choose from, so there is something for every taste and budget.

After a walk on the water, the idea was to go for lunch up the Sydney Tower and at the same time enjoy the stunning views you will never get tired of. But when I saw the 50 meter queue for the elevator, I gave up and went down to Chinatown and found a smiling man who would serve a good lunch for me.

After the late lunch, I found the Greyhound terminal, to get myself a bath and some clean clothes. I had become somewhat sweaty from driving around town. Again fresh as freshly cut grass (read: freshly shaved), I would again go down to the beloved and hated Kings Cross for a good reunion. I want to see if I could find some of them, I had some fun moments with the last time I was here.

After visiting a few bars, I noticed that there were sheer new faces. So I went down to a Viennese restaurant, to get some good food and maybe meet Danish Morten and Dutch Robert again, who was a waiter and bartender the last time I was here.

But I spoke instead of Margaret from Austria, who told me that Morten had been taken back to Denmark and Robert had been taken to the Philippines to find a job there.

Just to finish in Sydney in style, I went on "Beef & Bourbon" to drink one last beer before the bus ride north. And I met Mark from Odense, whom I previously met in Wienerbaren. And now Mark has been joined by one of his friends from his home country, Christian also from Odense. They were about to finish, here on their last day in Australia, before traveling to Denmark again. As far as I remember, Mark was going through Manila and Christian via Singapore.

To honor that moment, we bought a lot of beer to go home on. And if you were to get wise to drinking, well, then we became super intelligent tonight.

Whoa, there was time skiing near the race from me. Had I not been lucky enough to just run out in a taxi right away, I would never have reached the bus. Well, that might not have been the worst thing that could happen, with the cozy pubs and people here?

I reached my place at the last minute and by the way remember nothing but I woke up in South Grafton 8 hours later, which is a food stop on the trip north. Thanks to the driver for his kind driving so I could sleep.

The rest of the trip goes through the incredibly beautiful and rugged nature that can really be enjoyed from the bus instead of sitting in a plane. The route runs through the towns along the Gold Coast and here is a town like Coolangatta worth mentioning because it is not like so many other towns built in height, but very relaxed with low houses and palm trees along the roads.

And I'm also really lucky to arrive in Brisbane, where the bus lands 5 minutes early, so I can run out and buy a train ticket to Wacol and hop on the train so I can reach the BBQ agreement I have with Willi at the Wacol Emigrant Center where he lives. and lives.

The story continues in ENGLISH 7