Just back from…
The bush, wandering happily among the trees, wallabies and birds, and feeling quite at home.
Next up…
Sydney and weariness.
I’m from Melbourne’s western suburbs, resplendent with factories, quarries, rubbish tips, slaughterhouses, noxious industries, tanneries, clouds of smoke, bad smells, sentimental songs, raw language, working-class humour and ugly old-fashioned hooliganism.
My first trip abroad was to Bali in 1974 with my first wife, Pamela, and a dear friend, Kathy. We stayed in Ubud for a month in the wet season. There was no electricity, just kerosene lamps. It was all very agricultural; a rice culture using traditional methods and such a huge revelation: bare-breasted women in sarongs carrying baskets on their heads, water buffalo pulling ploughs, frogs, geckoes, fireflies, herds of waddling brown ducks, gamelan music, animals…
