Kakadu

No trip to the top end of Australia would be complete without visiting the Aboriginal lands of Kakadu National Park.

Located 250km to the east of Darwin, Kakadu was where the very first Aboriginal people settled - tens of thousands of years ago. It is therefore home to some of the oldest culture, art, traditions, plants and animals on the entire planet. It is a World Heritage Area bigger than Wales, boasting stunning scenery and a fascinating history.

I decided to book myself on a 'grown up' tour for this experience. I wanted to go on a trip that would do justice to the place I was visiting, not a budget backpacker tour where the guide is more interested in asking how pissed everybody got the night before.

It took us a good few hours to get into the park after a 6.30am departure from Darwin. Our first port of call was Ubirr, where there is amazing Aboriginal art work dating back God only knows how long.

I can't really summarise in a post an accurate synopsis of Aboriginal culture. But what I did get a great sense for on this trip was the amazing attachment they have traditionally had to the land they live in, and all the nature and wildlife of that area. For example, an ancient Aboriginal would not necessarily see any difference between his neighbour and, say, a Kangaroo. His best friend might be a tree. He would have regarded everything to have been alive, and as such would feel the same towards it all.

Aborigines were perhaps the first human race to have a system of law and order. However, nothing was ever written down. Rules and traditions were passed on through art work or stories told to children. Respect for the law was regarded as absolutely essential - even if you did not know the rules existed.

We were told the tale of a young woman from a neighbouring tribe who started living in the mainly male settlement of Ubirr thousands of years ago. One day the men all went out hunting and, keen to impress, the girl decided to cook them up some food for when they returned. She went down to the river, caught a couple of Barramundi, and then dutifully cooked them up. It is not clear whether she cracked open a bottle of Blue Nun and put on a Phil Collins CD.

While cooking the Barramundi, the girl got a bit peckish and ate some of the fish herself. When the men returned and saw all of this, they were incandescent with rage. Why? Aborigines have traditionally been given totems at birth to confirm their connection to the land they live in. In other words, their parents nominate an animal to which they are spirtually attached. In Ubirr just before this girl arrived, a very popular and admired old man died and his totem was the Barramundi. As a result, the local tribe introduced a law that nobody could eat Barramundi for generations.

When all of this was pointed out to the girl, she understandably protested her ignorance of the rule. This was no defence under Aboriginal law. If you break a rule, you have to face the consequences. So the men beat the living shit out of her. For several days. Eventually the dispute resulted in battles between other tribes and several deaths. The moral of the story? Always make sure you understand and respect the laws governing somebody else's land. It became a story told through generations for thousands of years - illustrated by art work at Ubirr.

See, you learn something new every day! I am not aware of any modern day Aborigines beating up birds for doing the dinner. It is funny - actually, let me rephrase that - it is ironic that Aussie tour guides can describe with such warmth the tales of their country's indigenous past, but yet their fellow countrymen and women seem so incapable of living beside Aboriginal people today. You may have heard that the Australian Prime Minister has recently banned alcohol in Aboriginal settlements in a so-called crackdown on child sex abuse. I will return to this subject later in the week when I visit some of the communities that the army and police have been sent into.

Anyway, anyway. Enough politics for now. After lunch we went on a boat trip, which took in some beautiful natural habitat. There were lots of crocodiles (obviously) and also a considerable amount of rare bird life. Interesting as it is to see the crocs, when a tour guide rides a boat to within inches of one that is four metres long, you don't have to be an expert on these creatures to realise that he wouldn't be doing this if it was going to attack anyone. I wouldn't recommend swimming next to the buggers though.

On the long drive back to Darwin we stopped off at a pub. It was one of those infamous ramshackle outback bars that prided itself on being the only place you could get a beer for about 200km. Around the bar was an equally stereotypical huddle of Aussie 'blokes', all drinking heavily and putting the world to rights. They completely ignored all the tourists - not that I felt like having a conversation with them. I couldn't work out if the rest of the pub was deliberately shit for effect or just genuinely run down. The pool table was falling over and the juke box was out of order. You could still flick through the Cd's - the most recent one that would have been available for play was the Smash Hits Best of Compilation 1991. I'm not joking.

I would have liked a second day in Kakadu, but I had a lot of things to arrange for the remainder of my trip before I leave for Alice Springs on Saturday. I'll be sad to leave Darwin too. It has been hot every day and I've enjoyed myself - despite all the entertainment being centred around a couple of streets at the far end of one of the most desolate countries on earth.

shatpackers

It's not very often that when I ask for something, and somebody refuses my request, that I feel a sense of relief and happiness.

But that is precisely how I felt when I asked to extend my stay at Chilli's Backpackers in Darwin. My room had a bed in it and nothing else but a sink - which was handy, admittedly, for having a piss in the middle of the night. It was probably the most soulless place I have ever slept in my entire life, but it was very cheap. You can't argue with the equivalent of 20 quid a night for your own room, I told myself - hence my request to stay.

This is peak season in Darwin, though, and the budget accommodation is in high demand. All that I could be offered was a bunk bed in an 18-bed dorm, which frankly was a prospect I found about as appealing as buggering a crocodile. I don't mind sharing with friends, nor do I mind that much sharing four bed dorms. But I draw the line at sleeping with 18 backpackers, snoring and farting their way through the night.

The lack of any private hostel rooms available in Darwin 'forced' me one more rung up the ladder and into a budget hotel. When I checked into my room, at a rough cost of 45 pounds a night, I was confronted with facilities that were probably a tier below what you would expect to find in an average Travelodge. I felt like I'd walked into the imperial suite of the Ritz.

Backpacker facilities are a bit like being back at university. On the one hand, everything is cheap - particularly the beer - most people are friendly and there is a genuinely happy atmosphere. On the other hand, they are noisy, a lot of people are twats and there is always the fear when using the shower in the morning that somebody has puked up in it the night before.

In other words, it is nice to be staying in a hotel rather than a hostel for a few days.

Darwin was lovely and hot again today. The above picture is of the harbour, where you will notice there is practically no human activity at all. This is because of box jellyfish - even though it is technically 'off season' for their presence in Darwin's waters, still nobody takes the chance and swims. Can't say I blame them in all honesty.

Darwinism

It was a gruelling trek between Cairns and Darwin on Monday.

I checked out of my hostel at 10am, but had to wait around Cairns - yes, it rained - until 4.30pm for my flight down to Brisbane. The direct flights to Darwin were out of my price range, so I had to go thousands of miles south to then fly north again. It was the equivalent of flying to Russia via North Africa.

The journey to Brisbane was made more pleasurable by the Virgin Blue in-flight entertainment. They provided access to 30 satellite tv channels, so I could flick between live sports, the news or whatever else took my fancy from the air. A far better entertainment system than a load of average movies.

I had to hang around Brisbane Airport for three hours before my connecting flight, which wasn't one of life's more pleasurable experiences. The journey time to Darwin is four hours, so I was hoping and expecting Virgin Blue would provide the same in-flight entertainment I had enjoyed on the two hour flight down from Cairns. Wrong. There was nothing. I was also sat on a row with a mother and screaming baby, and a drunken Canadian who was threatened with arrest in mid air for his rowdy behaviour.

I finally arrived at my hostel in Darwin at around 2am, which quite frankly makes the average prison look like a Holiday Inn. For some reason the time zone here is half an hour behind most of Australia. Why 30 minutes? I don't get it.

Anyway, Darwin. It's named after Charles. This place is unlike most others in Australia in that it has been built and re-built three times already. The Japanese bombed the living shit out of the place in World War II when it was a strategic port for the Allies to launch attacks into Asia. More than 240 people died in just one attack. If there ever had been an invasion of Australia, it would have been through Darwin. The people of this city can take comfort from the knowledge that should this ever have happened, the Australian Government had a contingency plan in place. This was to bugger off back to the south east of the country and protect cities like Sydney and Melbourne.

Believe it or not, the fear of Asian troops landing in Darwin is still one that persists today. Indonesia is but a small boat ride away - and possesses one of the largest armies in the world. The fear of attack has characterised the Australian way of thinking since the 18th century. It explains this country's staunch loyalty to Britain in two world wars, and subsequently its slavish following of America into both Vietnam and Iraq. At least we only went into one! Actually, to be fair to the Aussies, if playing a bit part role in Iraq is the price they have to pay for protection, it's not a bad deal. I mean, what exactly is the extent of their involvement in the war? A few bush rangers and a couple of kangaroos by the looks of it.

Anyway, if hundreds of devastating bombing raids during the war wasn't punishment enough for Darwin, it then suffered enormous destruction during a cyclone on Christmas Eve in 1974. This wiped out the vast majority of buildings in the city, including the former town hall pictured at the top of this post.

The Darwin of today is therefore relatively modern. I have heard some Aussies dub it a shit hole. I actually quite like it. Darwin is clean, friendly, unassuming and growing. It is, in many respects, a paradox - the capital of a territory about the size of France, and yet with a population of just 70,000. Today the temperature soared past 30 degrees and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. That's enough to endear it to me.

Snork the Reef(er)

On Saturday morning it finally happened. Nobody had predicted it, the pessimist in all of us had resigned ourselves to perpetual disappointment. It was like Norwich City winning promotion again. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you guessed it - the sun was shining.

The weather forecast had predicted rain for today, so to see almost clear blue skies and the temperature pushing 30 degrees was, well frankly, why I came here in the first bloody place.

Before venturing out to enjoy the weather, I went online to find myself a room for my arrival in Darwin on Sunday night. A quick perusal of various web sites very quickly indicated a slight problem with this - i.e. there were not any rooms available in Darwin on Sunday night, unless I felt like staying in a dorm at a crack den. A quick ring around of affordable places confirmed this.

Now normally I would have been kicking the nearest small animal and reaching for the bottle when confronted with such news, but on this occasion I was not. Fortunately my flight with Virgin Blue was fully flexible - I simply went online and switched it to Monday, and then booked a room. God bless Richard Branson.

I spent the rest of Saturday afternoon enjoying the glorious weather. Cairns was like a different place - kids splashed around in the water, adults drank copious amounts of cold beer - and I did both.

Today (Sunday) I took advantage of my extra day here to do something the weather had hitherto prevented me from - a trip to the Great Barrier Reef. I caught the 1pm ferry to Green Island (just off Cairns) where I had the opportunity to either go snorkeling or see the Reef from a glass bottom boat. I had promised friends and family that I would overcome my fear of sealife and not pass up the opportunity to swim in one of the most beautiful parts of the world. Trouble is, actions always speak louder than words. Tony Blair said he wouldn't go into Iraq without a UN mandate, and look what happened there. I opted for the glass bottom boat.

The sun had retreated and it was now very windy and choppy on the sea, which nearly caused me to puke all over a Japanese tourist on the boat. Aside from that, it was great looking at the Reef from the comfort of the boat - and I got to take pictures and see bigger fish than I would have done through snorkeling. So, there you have it. I'm a sensible pragmatist, and not a coward. Oh no.