Driving into South Mission Beach, about 140kms south of Cairns in tropical northern Australia, you are met with many ‘Beware of Cassowaries’ signs. I was on alert on the road because I had been forewarned.

However, on this fateful morning I was standing over a camp stove making coffee and the rain had finally caught up with us. We awoke under a sagging canopy full of water and thanks to good fortune rather than good planning, the tent on our rental car was canvas. We managed to stay completely dry.

The air was still very muggy despite the rainfall and under a blanket of humidity we drink our coffee. All was quiet and still.

Then, while packing away the breakfast dishes and waiting for the caffeine jolt to take effect, I turned around to find a fully-grown cassowary trying to eat the scraps from the bag in my hand!

Also see: Heartwarming images of Aussies saving our animals following the bushfires

It was yet another notch on the trip’s unexpected animal encounter tally board; I had already been bitten on the toe by a possum (yes, you read that correctly) and was saved from treading on a snake by a quick thinking husband who stopped me just in time.

There were many beautiful moments that made that particular Down Under journey truly rewarding. There were days when covering so many thousands of kilometres confined in a car with one other person seemed insane. It became very easy to start counting bad arguments as well as coastal towns as they all start to blur together.

While the cassowary encounter does not exactly feature highly on list of favourite travel moments, it is certainly way up there on my husband’s.

The post Postcard from Australia: camping encounter with a hungry cassowary appeared first on Australian Times News.

BROOME gave us our first glimpse of the west coast of Australia, and I have never been more grateful to see the ocean again. After an arduous drive from Katherine in the Northern Territory to the Kimberley we have now officially visited each of the four main coasts of Australia.

Our experience of Western Australia so far has been confronting. This is truly a region of mining, painted desert, mining and red soil. Did I mention the mining?

Still, there is a raw beauty.

Today our route takes us from commercial Broome to industrial Port Hedland. For the first time since we left Adelaide we are facing back towards home. I am a little too excited about his fact.

The entire township of Port Hedland seems to be under construction. Road works delay an influx of traffic that appears to have snaked in from nowhere. The ocean is a fierce blue, contrasted against the rusty soil.

Freight trains with hundreds of containers on board chug iron ore out to the shipping yard.

The land is naked out here, having been stripped of all vegetation. One could be forgiven for thinking they were looking at a clean-up operation after a nuclear disaster. The natural state of this place is long hidden beneath a cage of steel industry, but almost poetically, the scale of the damage is art-like. The construction appears a sculpture of twisted metal in the sand.

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WHILE most of my pieces tend to be about the coastal towns we have seen as we drive the perimeter of Australia, there are times we drive further just to avoid the traffic of major cities. Today we drive from Maryborough to Toowoomba, 125kms inland from Brisbane.

The drive is one of my favourites so far. These are small farming towns like one might see in country England and the scenery change is very welcome.

Woolooga is a pop-up town appearing as if from nowhere, a typical Australian ‘one-pub’ town.

There are long sweeping valleys out here and row-upon-row of vineyards. Pumpkins are for sale at the post office and shiny tractors are displayed proudly by the roadside like trophies. Ghostly gums stretch skyward, disfigured and skeletal.

Local produce stores market themselves as purveyors of candy and carrots.

Nanango is an autumnal painting. The trees are all turning to crimson and broad leaves fall into crunchy mounds. I would have liked to just plonk myself under an oak and read all day.

I love small towns like this, where the bakery is the buzzing hive of the community and Bill knows George whose missus, Tracy, works at the post office. The local fire service’s annual charity ball posters are stapled to the notice board outside next to the home-printed ‘Kelpies For Give-Away to A Good Home’ advertisement.

When I was very young I lived in a town like this one in the Barossa Valley and the smell of baked pastry and chimney smoke take me back there in an instant. Nearing the northern border of New South Wales it feels as though we lose one degree Celsius per 50 kms we drive, as the Queensland heat fades and we approach the southern winter. I am trying to enjoy the cooler temperatures as we plan our next journey, which may take us even further north to Darwin.

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HEADING out of Port Hedland we begin to realise the enormity of the trip we have thus far endured. 16,000kms into the trip we look down the barrel of another 11,000 of red dirt and blue highway home. We have fantasised about dumping the car on the spot and flying home. Still, we drive on.

Exmouth is on the far western coast of Australia, famous for its diving with whale sharks on the Ningaloo Reef. We arrive in the dark and unsurprisingly nearly hit a stray animal on the highway. Surprisingly, the stray animal is a wild goat and we come across a few of them along the way.

It was a beautiful surprise to wake up by the sea. Moving into Western Australia from the Northern Territory we have crossing desert and rocky ranges for days. The weather has steadily grown cooler as we head south and the sky is a moody silver. The usually clear water is murky and rough. The King tides created by the Super Moon have brought waves that crash directly in on the foreshore. The surf sprays white water in a fine mist that settles over everything.

Situated at the tip of a peninsula, Exmouth is surrounded by rugged scrub and deep canyons. Braver campers disappear down gravel roads to hidden campsites deep in the bush. A veritable diamond in the rough, Exmouth is well worth the trek inland. Come for the quaint village, stay for the 50km of pristine sandy beaches.

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OUR first stop this morning is at the Howard Springs chemist. One of the keen pleasures of living in a car is the amount of exposure one has to the elements. What began as a simple cold has now developed into a rib-breaking cough. I pour a raspberry flavoured syrup into the bottle lid and knock it back as we drive toward Kakadu National Park.

31kms along the Arnhem Highway we begin to spot signs for leaping crocodile cruises and bounce down a dirt road to the first tour operator we find. Buffalo wade in mud pools cooling off in the heat.

The croc tours operate out of a small shed directly on the Adelaide River. There is a selection of pythons to hold and touch. As I had lathered my skin in 50+ to protect my skin, I am unable to hold one. Unbeknownst to me, sunscreen can be absorbed through the snakes’ skin and kill them. The walls are lined with clipped articles of the many fatal crocodile attacks in the river we are about to launch onto. Comforting.

The boat only travels 200m before we see our first crocodile. A four-metre female, she nudges the boat awaiting a chunk of buffalo. Jess, our tour guide explains the mechanics of a death-roll and informs us the crocodile launching itself towards our boat is capable of turning a grown man to jelly for slow digestion. Crocs are attracted to vibrations in the water and splashes only bring out more of the man-eaters. We are also told that if we fall in we are better off floating than swimming. Any movement would act like a Big-Mac ad: ‘Eat Me’.

On our cruise we also meet ‘Stumpy’: a five-metre male, and ‘Hannibal’: a six-metre monster with a suspiciously bloated stomach. He sun bakes on the riverbank digesting a fully-grown cow.

Despite the terrifying possibility of being eaten alive, we have a perfect day. The water is muddy and completely opaque. The trees lining the bank are full of screeching corellas and the sun is blinding and hot.

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Surfers glide in with the break and look like seals clambering onto rock as they fight the surf to stand upright. Usually a perfect surf beach, today the water reflects the swirl of dirty water in a washing machine.

We are staying in the caravan park directly adjacent to the beach and are amazed to find a sub-tropical haven hidden away. We feel a bit as though we have cheated somehow, staying in a place as nice as this. The park warns of wandering wildlife and at dusk we meet two such nomads.

Two kangaroos approach our tent, and as we are visiting in the low season, we have much of the grassed area to ourselves. The kangaroos munch grass right in front of our site and we cook sausages to eat in fresh bread while we watch them.

Completely unfazed, the female shares a secret with us. Carefully surveying the area around her, she lets a small joey slip out of her pouch to hop and wobble about. A big possum enters the fray, making an unbelievable amount of noise as it clambers up and down the trees. These are the moments we dreamed of when we set out on this trip: quite time together with full bellies before a good night’s sleep.

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GREETINGS from the east coast of Australia! A land of shimmering ocean, sub-tropical rainforest and the smoothest roads I have ever driven on. The Pebbly Beach turn-off leaves the Princes Highway about 10 kilometres south of Termeil and takes you on a windy drive through the dense Murramarang National Park.

Pebbly Beach takes my breath away, and I am not alone. An English couple from Devon tell us they have been planning to come to Pebbly since they first arrived in Australia. They have made the journey from Melbourne just to spend the night here.

A grassy park meets the sand and visitors are happy to just lie around on their towels. We walk our deck chairs down to the waterline and get busy doing nothing. When we get too hot we refresh with a swim, then race back to our chairs to dry in the sun.

Hugging the shoreline is a deep trough, which makes the roaring tide appear deceptively tame. Typical of a lot of Australia’s beaches, it is easy to be swept up if you are not concentrating. While we choose to laze around, day-hikers make the seven-hour return hike up Durras Mountain. I envy their fitness levels but not the trek ahead of them. Others walk north along the coast to Snake Bay.

Seated on an old log is a typically Aussie man; Akubra hat, shorts. Surrounding him on the lawn are at least thirty kangaroos. The kangaroo population at Pebbly are quite happy to be patted and are happy to be photographed. Pebbly Beach is most commonly known as “Surfing Kangaroo Beach,” made famous after a kangaroo was snapped standing up to its chest in the water at low-tide.

When people imagine a perfect day in Australia, I’d like to think this is what they picture: a clear blue sky, the hot sun warming bare skin, no traffic or artificial noise. Peace. It is nice to know that at Pebbly Beach, it truly exists.

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STARTING our morning in Bermagui, we cruised gently along the Prince’s Highway through rural New South Wales.

Chugging along in need of coffee we were both hoping for a nice place to stop and fill-up. We pulled into the Bodalla Dairy Shed around 10am. Located half way between Narooma and Moruya, the retro milkbar and café is the beating heart of a 150-year-old working village.

Also an operating cheese factory, the café serves traditional milkshakes thickened with rich ice-cream and burgers made from local grain-fed beef. A vintage pink Wurlitzer juke-box shines by the window. Red leather booths line the wall. An eastern brown snakeskin holds pride of place above the fireplace, stretching two metres long.

We slurp the creamiest milkshakes we have ever tasted and congratulate each other for making the stop.

Taking some time to walk around the outside of the shed, we find ourselves standing at the edge of a large paddock where two small calves greet us. They let us scratch their necks and push their noses into us demanding food.

A staff member from the shed hands me a large milk bottle and I am able to feed the little bull his breakfast.

This is a highlight for me. When I was younger I used to feed our baby goat ‘Bartholomew’ from a bottle.

The little bull’s name is Grant, which I think is a very grown up name for such a little bull.

Still, he was very strong, bunting and pushing against the bottle.

There was a small boy with his mother and he was able to feed the girl calf, Louise. I’m glad he feed her and not Grant, as he would have been knocked flat over.

When we left to continue our journey to Sydney, I was covered with cow slobber. It was a fantastic moment.

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HERE at the south-eastern tip of Australia, the sea meets a vast network of meandering waterways. Only 40kms from the Victorian/New South Wales border, Mallacoota is nestled deep within the Croajingolong National Park.

Arguably in the middle of nowhere, Mallacoota is well worth the drive. A popular stop-off for those taking a coastal drive from Melbourne to Sydney, we are joined by many others on the road.

When we arrive, we find the town bustling. Locals sit outside the bakery enjoying coffee and cake. Visitors flock to take advantage of the perfect boating conditions, canoers eye the calm waterways and weary travellers picnic in the sunshine.

Pelicans glide along the shallow water and boats bob up and down in the marina.

The best way to take in Mallacoota is by foot. Walkways lead off in all directions offering a stroll along the lake harbour or further along to the coast. Self-drive roadways lead to secluded beaches where surfers wait eagerly off the shore for their next set. Fishermen wait patiently for their catch where the salty and fresh water meet.

Pushing off from the rocky shore at Betka Beach we swim out through the chilly water, duck-diving head first into the surf. A pod of dolphins frolic near a boat on its way out to Gabo Island where the historic lighthouse still stands. Smoke drifts into town from a nearby burn-off and the air smells of crackling gum leaves. Children swim in the estuary where the Betka River meets the sea.

On the drive back out of Mallacoota, we take in the sights from the Entrance Viewing Deck. Before we head north it is nice to be able to look back on how far we have already travelled. I imagine many others have done the same thing we have, but standing here just the two of us, it doesn’t feel that way.

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by Haylee Slater

Located 20km north of Port Douglas, Mossman Gorge is the only place on earth where two World Heritage listed sites rest side by side.

Nestled at the southern end of the Daintree Rainforest, only 77kms north of Cairns, the dense forest meets the Great Barrier Reef. Home to over 30,000 species of flora and fauna and with firm roots in the heritage and culture of the Kuku Yalangi people, Mossman Gorge contains the oldest, continuously surviving rainforest on earth.

Our own visit begins with a small white bus and a very friendly guide responsible for driving us to the walking trail.

Immediately, the rainforest grows thicker and gradually blocks out more of the sun, the air is warm and damp but gets cooler the further we drive. As we disembark, signs warn us of the dangers of cassowaries and instruct us not the feed any of the native wildlife.

The trail is very well built, erected to stand tall amongst the canopy. The path is smooth enough for wheelchair access, at least until the first lookout reaching over a series of white water ledges. It is not a long walk to the cold flowing waterhole where we are able to swim. Too cold even for crocodiles it is a perfect place for visitors to cool off. Icy water flows over granite boulders and the sun shines through a gap in the canopy illuminating the river floor.

The sandy bottom leaves little camouflage for things that bite, putting me at ease as I wade in. The crashing falls above pulverise and aerate the water until it feels like velvet. Fish swim un-phased by us, making it possible to swim alongside them. Large rounded boulders offer a place to rest after a hard swim across the driving current.

For the most part the water is calm and deep with plenty of room to duck dive to the bottom, in other places the current is so strong you are able to ride it through the canyon with little control over where you end up. Young children splash in the shallows and professional photographers line up their tripods looking for the perfect angle to capture the view.

With something on offer for all visitors Mossman Gorge should be the first stop for any visitor to the tropical North.

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The V & A wears its age well, not only in its grand Victorian façade still bearing the scars of WWII, but also in its diverse and modern exhibitions. The most current, the Hollywood Costume Exhibition, draws on this interplay — showcasing 100 years of cinema within three large galleries.

Entering the exhibition, viewers are met by a mammoth projector screen casting frames from some of the most recognizable moments in film’s varied history. While slightly overbearing, the screen quickly sets the tone for the collection.

A movie geek through-and-through, I am here to indulge my fascination with film, costume design, and to find as many Australian references as possible. In the opening gallery, findings are scarce. Like any good competition between our neighbouring countries, our Kiwi friends represent well with a larger than life opening act. Sadly, it is shoved in a dark corner.

A video narration from Director James Cameron and Actor Andy Serkis explains the tools employed by Weta to perfect costume for films such as Avatar and Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Andy Serkis’ motion capture suit is on display and the accompanying video gives geeks such as myself a fascinating look behind the scenes of filming.

Some of the costumes are displayed on headless mannequins accompanied by script excerpts from the films they made famous. Others are complete with LCD screens hosting the face of the actor that wore it, giving some life to what otherwise could have felt like a window display.

The Australian Influence

Lost in wonder at costumes from Fight Club and The Addams Family, I almost miss the Australian contributions that have begun to spring up everywhere. The first is found in the Indiana Jones’ ensemble.

According to costume designer Deborah Nadoolman, Indy’s costume would not have been complete without his iconic felt hat, the design of which was customized from the Australian Herbert Johnson Fedora.

The next, a dress worn by Cate Blanchett in Elizabeth: The Golden Age stands out in a sea of taffeta and velvet, its bright orange contrasted against a white haloed dress worn by Gwyneth Paltrow in Shakespeare In Love.

The exhibition is shrouded in darkness, a complaint mentioned in all reviews I have read about the exhibition. The low lighting aims to protect the garments, and it does add to the atmosphere of the showing in some areas. I imagine Darth Vader’s suit would have much less impact in a brightly lit room, however in some other areas I can appreciate the frustration.

Take time to smell the roses

Each costume displayed is accompanied by an explanation from the director of the film it is featured in, the costume designer who made it or the actor who wore it. While at times the comments are quite generic there are some unique tidbits hiding in there.

Nicole Kidman says of her sequined costume worn as Satine in Baz Luhrman’s Moulin Rouge that corsets are great for Victorian activities “like drinking tea,” but high kicks? “Forget it.”

If you don’t take the time to look up as you wander through this exhibition, you may miss this costume. It is placed on a mannequin in the same pose Kidman holds while singing “Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend” on her trapeze swing.

The costume worn by Australian Russell Crowe in Gladiator is harder to miss. Designed by Janty Yates, she explains that it was important to turn the usually flowing Roman tunic into something “manly” at the request of Ridley Scott.

Errol Flynn, the Australian actor known as much for his leading roles in films such as Robin Hood as his playboy lifestyle, starred in The Adventures of Don Juan in 1948. His costume sets the tone for the leading men and is in good company amongst Dick Tracy’s yellow suit and Christopher Reeves’ Superman.

The magic of the Matrix

Kym Barrett, is an Australian costume designer born in Brisbane known for her work with the Cirque Du Soleil and on Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet. Her best work, in my opinion, is on display at the V & A in Neo’s coat from The Matrix.

Unfortunately, this is one of the key costumes almost impossible to see from the front close up. It is possible to admire the fabric from the back provided you lean in closely.

This became a running theme throughout the exhibit. Costumes such as Jack’s ragged clothes and Rose’s high-collared suit and hat from the opening scenes of Titanic became lost in the background. Others were so high up in the dark they could barely be seen.

Fashion lovers rejoice

For fashion lovers, visit for Marilyn Monroe’s signature white dress from Some Like It Hot, Holly Golightly’s black dress and necklace seen reflected in the window at Tiffanys from Breakfast at Tiffanys, the Yellow Dress and the Harry Winston “Isadora” necklace from How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days and ‘that’ green dress from Atonement.

Classic film buffs will rejoice in Dorothy’s dress and Ruby Slippers highlighting the early novelty of Technicolor in The Wizard of Oz and the size of Scarlet O’Hara’s green velvet layered gown from Gone With The Wind will amaze. With Rocky squared up against Die Hard’s John McClane, Harry Potter’s first robes, and Eliza Doolittle’s tattered dress, every visitor is likely find a favourite costume on display.

For those interested in the history and process of costume design this exhibition is the one for you.

The exhibition will run from 20 October 2012—27 January 2013. Tickets are available from www.vam.ac.uk.

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Lonerism

Steering away from the more direct Beatles benediction seen in brilliant debut Innerspeaker, Parker’s approach has matured. Sgt Pepper trips are turned to vanilla dreamscapes in soulful ‘Music To Walk Home By’ and hypnotic ‘Feels Like We Only Go Backwards’ delivers the knock-out punch.

Single ‘Elephant’ gives a slight peek into the power of Lonerism but cannot fully represent what this album as a whole achieves. Carefully employed 60s grooves and a unified vision push against a time when singles are consumed as readily as Big Macs.

Tame Impala has embraced the truer spirit of musical experience with a return to the truest value of the album, a luxury enjoyed in one sitting.

This is undoubtedly the stand out release of 2012.

Five Stars.

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AFTER so much online debate, I finally caved and purchased Fifty Shades of Grey. Based on the Twilight series with beginnings as a work of fan fiction, it is fair to say I had low expectations for this book which has been widely branded as ‘mummy porn’.

I could argue that it is demeaning to women to assume that we all suppress a secret urge to be tied up and spanked. However, the ridiculous amount of sales this book has achieved would put that argument to rest pretty quickly.
Perhaps I should pretend to take a feminist stance and argue that it is the term ‘mummy porn’ that bothers me so much about this book. But if I am honest, I was just plain bored.

There is nothing ground-breaking here if contrasted with the movement of eroticism since the turn of the 19th century. Writers such as Anais Nin and D.H Lawrence paved the way for erotica as a form of literature a long time before Ms E. L James came along. Marketing this book as anything other than the cheap chick-lit that it is not only disrespects erotica as a genre but also those who spent the money to read this expecting so much more.

A young virgin having an earth-shattering sexual experience followed by a drawn out battle to marry the man who wishes to be her ‘dom’ is so far from erotica it is laughable.

I do not wish to judge what others respond to, but the only feelings this book aroused in me were feelings of despair for what is a well-respected genre.

This book is not only poorly written and repetitive, but it also uses expletives to try to add sexual tension where none exists.

Long gone are the days of Lady Chatterley’s Lover. If this is what passes for erotic literature now, I fear for the future of the genre.

Have you read Fifty Shades of Grey? Tell us your thoughts at our website.

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REVIEW | By Haylee Slater

Stumbling slightly at times, it was hard to tell if the colourful language and the loud drunk audience members provided the humour, or if Franklin’s premise was doing the work. However, it was obvious at times that “Chopper’s” approach was lost on the audience.

Heath Franklin has a charisma about him and obviously has the potential and skills to go much further. His anecdotes seemed very safe, I only wish he had taken a few risks.

Scoring high in audience participation — I myself falling victim to playing a role on stage, my concern was that the laughs came from our obvious discomfort rather than the content.

Unfortunately, unless Franklin can find a way to unite the audience in the premise and provide the humour directly from his performance, it may continue to fall a little flat.

Did you watch Heath Franklin’s Chopper? Tell us below what you made of the performance:

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By Haylee Slater

It is day two of Europe’s largest street festival and so far the rain is doing nothing to dampen the spirits of the thousands of Londoners here to watch and participate.

The air is filled with the smell of Jerk chicken and rum punch and a loud Samba beat bounces off the buildings in a perpetual drum roll. I can’t help but dance as the bass pounds in my chest.

Everywhere there are bright costumes and enthusiastic dancers.  Groups of onlookers add to the festive atmosphere with shrill blasts from plastic whistles and £2 coloured trumpets. Empty coconuts litter the road and with the tremolo of steel drums, you could be celebrating anywhere in the world.

Children rest on their dads’ shoulders, arms extend with cameras, and a litany of stilt walkers survey the crowd adding a mezzanine level to the madness. The best views come from the residents’ balconies surrounding the parade.

Confetti canons explode and the sky is littered with a suspended cloud of streamers, falling in slow motion like sprinkles.

Of course, there are always the few that like to cause trouble for the many, but fear for the risk of injury or theft cannot be seen here.  The police appear to be in high spirits, despite three reported stabbings amongst the growing masses. Even the parade organisers blend in as they manoeuvre the crowds with their own whistles.

A woman I would expect to see in a pant-suit and heels on any normal Monday, dumps her half-eaten container of food in the street and keeps walking. Clearly London’s inhibitions have been left at Notting Hill Gate along with those residents trying to avoid the insanity.

Calypso music and brightly coloured floats set the tone for a celebration that will surely continue well beyond the estimated 7pm finish.

Did you attend this year’s Notting Hill Carnival? What were your thoughts? Tell us below:

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IN 2010, Adam Hills came to Edinburgh with a show central to audience participation. When he returned to the Fringe Festival with a new show in 2012 however, this time it was more about raising funds for the Royal Edinburgh Hospital for Sick Kids than keeping the masses chortling.

Mess Around opens with a friendly Adam Hills, distracted by a woman shaking out her red coat. Likening the welcome to a bull being urged to charge, he has the audience in hysterics before the doors have even closed. Using pure Aussie charm to relax the crowd, his enthusiasm – while addictive – is also capable of terrifying the timid and high-browed of the audience.

He’s deft at turning an unpredictable environment into a comfortable game where anyone can be the star. First, we learned of the misadventures of an embarrassed member of the front row sporting a hole in his pants. He had fallen on the bus on his way to the show and was seen limping down the stairs on his way out. The husband of the woman with the red coat, their son Geoffrey rallied support during the show for Team GB. Equipped with false medal tallies and the quick use of his iPhone to confirm his stories as he went along, Geoffrey was asked to return for a few more shows later in the week.

Not everyone was excited to be involved however. Hill’s fascination with the attire of “gentleman” Alistair, quickly turned from willing banter to a snappy refusal to be involved in the show, leaving Hills dejected but determined to move on. A lesser performer may have been put-off, but Hills’ experience in the live comedy sphere shone as he rallied a cheerful crowd behind him to push the show forward.

Not enough can be said for Catherine, Hills’ sign interpreter, who can only blush as she is forced to sign every word of the show as it happens. At times, there was more laughter coming from her reactions to the hand signals she was forced to make, than the star performer himself.

Quick wit, intelligent humour and the quirky individuals in the audience came together to create a very warm atmosphere akin to a night at the local pub. The veritable “nice guy of comedy” is on a winner with Mess Around, and Catherine, the perfect accompaniment to the madness.

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