Australia & Pacific

Last week, Canberra, Australia’s small capital city, played host to the controversial Olympic Torch as it makes its way around the world. Organisers described it as the most successful outing yet for the flame – which isn’t really saying much after the chaotic debacles of Paris, London and San Francisco and the security-deadened, almost invisible parades in cities such as New Delhi, Dar es Salaam, Islamabad and Jakarta.

To the outside world, it all looked fine. A crisp, clear Canberra morning, smiling faces, clean streets and a run uninterrupted by scuffles, attacks on the flame, disappearances into bayside warehouses or the heavy-handed actions of benign-looking men in matching blue tracksuits.

But all was not as it appeared.

Spurred into action by bad press on the relay to-date, the Australian Chinese community – and especially the large number of visiting Chinese students hosted by Australian universities – rallied to the defence of the torch relay and their (in their opinion much-maligned) country. Maybe 10,000 students bussed in from across Australia, and formed a formidable presence on the usually quiet streets of Canberra (population 330,000). Vastly outnumbering and – if media reports are to be believed – intimidating their pro-Tibet counterparts, the Chinese supporters ensured that, for the most part, all the cameras saw was a sea of red flags and support.

Perhaps this display of strength on the streets is part of the education of visiting students. Perhaps they’ll remember the feeling of getting out on the streets and defending what they believe to be right. And perhaps they’ll take that democratic spirit home. Perhaps.

The blue-tracksuited ‘Flame Attendants’ had dominated discussion in Australia in the lead-up to last week’s relay leg. All week Australian and Chinese security agencies contradicted each other about the role of this special force. Desperate to avoid the sorts of hands-on activities in London and other cities, Australian politicians and security agencies were clear that the Chinese tracksuit guys would have no security role to play. At all. Chinese officials said they would use their bodies to protect the flame. The Aussies said ‘No you won’t’. And so it went all week.

Australians were perhaps drawn to the tracksuit story out of nostalgia. Former Prime Minister John Howard was famous for his daily walks around Canberra and Sydney – escorted by security guards – and dressed in a patriotically coloured tracksuit. Since his loss at the polls in November, the tracksuit has all-but disappeared from Aussie cultural life. Enter the Chinese to restore order and give us something to talk about.

In the end, the Aussies prevailed. Footage even shows an Australian Federal Police officer giving one of the Flame Attendants’ a none-too-subtle shove out of the way during the run. Bet that doesn’t run on the nightly news in Xi’an or Beijing last week!

Another thing that won’t hit the airways in China is the sad fact that the once pure symbolism of the Olympic torch has been sullied. It once stood for pure sporting competition, showing a peaceful ideal that might exist in a world free of war and politics. But there’s no doubt that the Chinese government – modernising and improving at an astonishing rate but still guilty of reprehensible acts within its own borders – is using the Olympics to create goodwill. The torch, the relay and the Olympics themselves were sadly tarnished long ago by bad governments permitted to bask in the reflected glow of the greatest sporting event in the world. The Chinese aren’t the first – or possibly even the worst – but the hypocrisy of admonishing protesters and hiding behind the ‘Olympic Ideal’ while so blatantly committing human rights violations is every bit as noteworthy as Berlin in 1936 and Moscow in 1980.

So where does that leave the Olympic Flame – past Nagano, Japan, and Seoul, now on a respite guaranteed by a shuffle through the North Korean capital. And where does it leave the noble Olympic Games themselves? Same place they’ve always been – at an uncomfortable intersection between politics and sport, but now with more people than ever aware of the complications and contradictions of putting an unattainable ideal smack in the middle of everyday human stupidity.

–John Ryan

The UK has Rememberance Day, the US has Memorial Day and down under we have ANZAC Day. Every child in Australia and New Zealand knows December 25 is Christmas Day, and April 25 is ANZAC Day. During our time at school we learn about the day when Australia truly grew up and became a real country. Through uncertain economic times, racial divides and severe drought, there is one day of the year when all else is put aside and the nation comes together to share a few moments of silence as we say thank you to those who have gone to war to protect our freedom.

For those unfamiliar with the ANZAC story (ANZAC - Australia and New Zealand Army Corp), it revolves around the dreadful events of April 25 in Gallipoli. Still a young nation and eager to impress, troops were sent to Turkey as part of the allied offensive in the First World War. Poor intelligence and woeful communication meant that instead of landing on a flat open beach on the Gallipoli Peninsula, the troops sailed straight into an ambush as the Turkish forces took position on the cliffs surrounding the landing site and opened fire.

Anyone who has seen the first 20 minutes of the film Saving Private Ryan does not need to try too hard to imagine the horrific scenes that followed. While both sides suffered heavy casualties, by the end of the eight month battle, more than 8,000 young ANZACs had been killed.

This single event has become one of the most important days of the year for this part of the world. It’s a time to celebrate freedom and mateship, a day to be thankful for the sacrifices we will hopefully never have to see made during our lifetime. ANZAC Day is more than just a day off work, and unlike our other major national holiday of Australia Day, you will never hear anyone complain when the day falls midweek instead of next to a weekend. It’s not just another day and it never will be.

Many Australians commemorate the day at a Dawn Service. Rising in the early hours of the morning before the sun has risen, thousands of people converge on a site for a memorial service. Wreaths are laid, a two minute silence observed and concludes when a lone bugler plays the “Last Post”. The first time I attended dawn service on ANZAC Day I cried like a baby. I cried for men I never knew, I cried for their families and I cried for the loss of innocence of a nation as thousands of young lives were violently cut short. Not a year goes by without shedding a tear or two as I look back and reflect on that terrible time. Thousands make the pilgrimage to the site of the battle in Gallipoli itself, and it has become a regular part of the backpacking ritual through Europe.

Throughout Australia’s capital cities, war veterans and their families march proudly through the streets, heads held high, looking resplendent in their army uniforms pinned with medals. Sadly the last of the survivors from Gallipoli passed away in 2002, however since his death the tradition and depth of feeling seems to have increased each year. Its not all doom and gloom though! After the sombreness of the mornings events, the afternoon usually consists of beers shared around a BBQ and watching the traditional Essendon vs Collingwood AFL match. Let’s face it, the day is as much about being mates as it is about war. The bonds formed by the troops as they faced the most terrifying moments of their lives will never be broken.

ANZAC Day is not just about that fateful day in Gallipoli, it’s an opportunity to pay our respects to those who fight to protect not only our country, but others in need, be it in the World Wars, East Timor or Iraq.

Whatever your opinions are on war, there is a time to acknowledge that behind the fighting are people, real people.

Men and women who have real family and real friends. Men and women who have given up a “normal” life. Men and women who may pay the ultimate price for their sacrifices. If we get nothing else out of ANZAC Day we should remember to not forget the people behind the ugly face of war. While politicians argue and evil reigns, young lives are lost and families torn apart.

Lest we forget.

–Kerrie O’Mahony

So, roll down the invisible hill again, straight outta Darwin, to Katherine. Or just get straight Outta Katherine if you’re already there already. Like you didn’t know to (get Outta Katherine, that is). Head west, which means south, but those people got it all upside down already, because this time it’s Western Australia that you have in your sights, which is of course West, but the road from the Katherinites perspective somehow departs from Katherine South. Go West - where the big brown land gets bigger and browner and like a gameshow in the outback the rising escarpments say “Come on Down”.

The boab tree, nearly as funny as the Western Australians

So get set for adventure, boab trees (you’ll like this one) and the best weird post-Brutalist sculptures on any roadside ever. Anywhere. Guaranteed.

Onward to the post-brutal West

As you get some kilometres under your belt speeding in a westerly direction along the mighty Victoria Highway away from Katherine and its Hot Springs and Gorge, etcetera etcetera, then you’ll notice the landscape slowly start to rear up and buckle some. Hills are the hot new thing out here, and pretty soon it’s catching on: Big hills are the go and when the rolling wide spaces get the hang of that there are escarpments.

Timber Creek sets the heart a-moving, not for its Wayside Inn nor the quaint little houses on little stilts at the nearby Indigenous community, but for the great towering wall of rock that somehow resembles a giant red piano with its top aloft, ivories etched vertically into the face greeting you as you come over the rise. After flat for breakfast, flat for lunch and, yes, flat for dinner for so long, it’s great to see somewhere take some initiative and stand up for itself and really do something different.

Sure there’s an escarpment in Arnhem Land, out at Oenpelli (Gunbalanya), and another down from Darwin at Hayes Creek. Even Katherine has a gorge and a 20-metre drop into the river bed from the bridge over north of town. But as the landscape’s canvas gets pretty stretched the further west you go, its spots like as this that manage to stand out by virtue of their grand singularity. Or something like that.

Pick your jaw back off your lap, because you’ll probably run into some kind of steering problem with it hanging down there, and get on down the road as Gregory National Park comes beckoning your way. Heck, its got the annual Devil’s Claw Festival (starting May 21 this year) and if that doesn’t go off like a bucket of weeds in the sun then what does? If memory serves me correctly then Gregory is also the second-biggest national park in the Northern Territory, largely because we haven’t crossed the Western Australia border yet, and being big there’s bloody heaps so why not just go there and save the precious paragraphs for that roadside wonder!

Keep River National Park

Pack your swag and keep on west and Keep River National Park will wander by your wheels. A nice stop, there’s lots of national parky goodness and that usually entails a bunch of space, trees, wet bits like creeks et al, and some bits with animals and clumps of dirt. You get the picture?

And, reeling in back in my recliner and reaching for my pipe, I care now to reflect on the trip after New Yeah’s 2002 (that Was a new yeah, ask in Darwin) when we burnt across the border, pursued by nightly displays of thunderheads and lightning all the way to Kununurra. If you’ll allow me a moment more, I shall recall how in Keep River we stood under a covered area some 15-metres wide, bereft of real shelter as the approaching cyclonic winds rendering tent a funny way to use to T’s, and somehow the rain managed to fall horizontally, wetting the ground and us when the odds said we were undercover. (So mental note, January = wet, but subnote: spectacular.)

Suffice to say we packed the van again and drove through puddles that would score a mention on some maps as new formed lakes, as we skipped the last bit across the highway, missing much of Keep River NP’s natural splendour.

An interesting to point to note at this stage, much as the order you find out as you approach the WA border: that load of fresh fruit and veggies you bought back in Katherine to see you through the next two weeks - forget it. Make an omelette, curry, stew, meal or two right now because just for crossing an invisible dotted line you lost the right to own it. Quarantine restrictions mean NO biological matter (they’ll even take beeswax candles) can go across the border. Sad but true. And rumour has it these guys don’t even like fruit or veggies, preferring a steak to anything and scurvy is just another kind of necktie to them.

Beef Road Monument: Does it get any better???

And crikey! In all that interstate excitement I forgot clear about the wonder of the North itself, combining three of the most important words in the Australian Language: Beef Road Monument. Like some alien Monolith without the adoring apes, or even a runaway Picasso, this mighty block of concrete sporting the unique corrugated iron style is a Must for any family holiday. Damn, I rushed out of the car and hugged it I was so happy to see something that finally settled all my yearnings for beef, roads and monuments in one. It’s not clear how it relates to any of these things, but something inside of me just Knew. You’ve seen brutalism in architecture, there’s “post-“ just about everything as you’d know from any decent late-night campfire postulations (post-structuralist, post-modernist, post-arrivalist) and this thing is so post, that its pretty much post-post-Brutalist its so post-like and Brutal at the same time.

Do yourself a favour, go there and hug it so you know what true, unflinching gratitude can be.

Oh yeah, from there you can drive over the border and on to about one third of Australia’s land mass where you can find the Kimberleys in all their large and resplendent glorious, um… splendour. Rivers with wild crocodiles, gorges beyond description, boab trees (funny things) and Western Australians (even funnier). That’s if you find the need to tear yourself away from the Beef Road Monument. It should probably have National at the start of that, just so we can hang a flag there. I think I’m weeping…

–Jack Brown

Planning a trip? We think Jack is suggesting you check out things to do in Perth, Broome and the splendor of Western Australia, including the Kimberley. But you just never know with Jack.

I had to laugh when I saw this tongue-in-cheek ad campaign for Sydney, the result of another magazine-sponsored attempt to promote the war between cities that never seems to stop. Why is that? Why do cities have to battle each other over which is the “most livable,” “most cosmopolitan” or, even more ridiculous, the “best.”

Mate, I like ‘em all!

For all the same reasons life wouldn’t be much fun if we all looked alike, dressed alike, thought alike or spoke the same way, it’s just really, really good that the world’s major cities are so incredibly un-alike. I hate leaving Sydney and my beloved Bondi Beach, but walking down Piccadilly and through Green Park isn’t too shabby an experience either, and it’s certainly not one you’ll find in Sydney.

That got me to thinking: what are the things I like to do as soon as I arrive in one of these cities, the things that make me glad I’m there? So I made a list.

Ode to the World’s Great Cities

In San Francisco I wait until the weekend (Sunday is best because there’s less traffic) and drive to Treasure Island just before sundown. San Francisco’s skyline is like nothing else; lots of hills, lots of white, tons of quirky buildings and monuments, two big, bold bridges, a huge bay, Alcatraz… there’s a lot to see and it’s all very definitely San Francisco, you couldn’t for a minute confuse it with anywhere else. I see this view in front of an invariably orange sunset and I feel good about being there; that’s a good thing.

London is for walking. Straight out the hotel door, left, right it doesn’t really matter. I keep my eyes open for a park, grab a newspaper — what other city has so many quality daily papers on offer? — and sit myself down on a bench to consume the day’s news. Then on in search of a new pub: with any luck there’ll be a football game on and a partisan crowd to watch it with. Not being a beer drinker is a bit of an impediment, but wine and spirits have the same effect. How many great parks and pubs are there in London? I don’t know, I’m still counting…

Paris is all about watching. Don’t feel guilty: French women — and men too, for that matter — would be annoyed if you didn’t notice how sexy they look in their new Christian Lacroix outfit, their favourite leather jacket, or whatever. They dressed up for you, don’t you get it? So right after unpacking I find a comfortable chair at a cafe on a busy boulevard, pretend to make important phone calls, glance occasionally at the Herald Tribune crossword… and watch the world of Paris go by. Give it a try, and for goodness sake don’t feel bad about it.

Bangkok is for the food. I talked to a couple from New Zealand just the other day, they’d been in Bangkok five days already and admitted they’d had all their meals at the hotel, “it just seemed safest.” OK, if that’s your attitude then maybe this isn’t the city for you. There’s about a zillion street vendors in Bangkok, selling the widest and wildest variety of food and drink you can imagine, so that’s my immersion technique as soon as I land. I’ve even been known to have the cab driver stop before I get to the hotel if I happen to see a vendor doing those little roti-style sweets with egg and carnation milk, rolled up like a crepe. Strike me pink, as my Dad used to say, they’re delicious. Anyway, after one of those I know I’m in Bangkok…

I like visiting Melbourne in winter best of all. That’s because I can go straight from the airport to the football. I mean Australian Rules Football, the real game — maybe that’s not an argument we want to have here — but suffice to say there’s nothing quite like being in a crowd of 80,000 at the MCG, watching Collingwood battle it out with one of their traditional enemies. I know exactly where I am when I hear that roar of “Ball!” go up from 50,000 of our fans — Collingwood supporters are always in the majority — and frankly it doesn’t really matter whether we win or lose, it’s just so Melbourne, so perfect, so unique an experience. Visiting in summer? The cricket works pretty well too…

I find myself in New York a couple of times each year. I don’t mind what season it is, because I know how to connect right away: grab the Times or the New Yorker and check the entertainment listings. Doesn’t matter what month it is, there’s always two or three acts in town that I don’t even have to think twice about wanting to see. And if they’re sold out, it doesn’t matter, just head down to the lower east side and randomise! Any act that’s good enough to get a gig in New York City is worth seeing; there’s tons of great venues, the crowds are always interesting, and if you don’t like the headliner you’ll probably die for the support act. Never fails me…

Got some favourite things to do in favourite cities, the ones you visit all the time and love coming back to? Hit that comments button, OK?

–Rod Cuthbert

Last week I was picking up a cheeky Viognier at my local bottle shop when I noticed that the bloke lining up in front of me was wearing a Canberra Raiders rugby jersey.

“You from Canberra?” I asked. “Oh no,” he replied. “I just liked the colours.”

“I’m from Canberra,” I said.

“I went there once,” he said. “It was closed.”

Oh ha ha.

It’s a widespread attitude, and one that has Aussies telling visitors to the country that the last place they should visit is Canberra. Overseas visitors often compromise by taking a day tour to Canberra from Sydney, dropping into the top sights like Parliament House and the War Memorial. And most of them leave agreeing with Sydneysiders who mock Canberra’s sterility.

Parliament House in Canberra

They’ve got a point. Canberra isn’t necessarily worth visiting. Bear with me here: If you’ve only got a day spare, you’re better off spending it at Royal National Park or on the beach. But if you have a few days, Canberra can be a real delight, a combination of slick city class, breath-taking museums, unspoiled bushland and dorky country charm.Canberra is two cities. There’s the city that was built to administer the country, the fly-in, fly-out workplace of politicians and high-ranking public servants, the monuments of the Parliamentary Triangle and the gleaming, expense-account lunch restaurants of Manuka and Kingston.

Then there’s the Canberra where people actually live, the leafy established inner suburbs with their alternative restaurants and friendly bars, the stretches of bushland that break up Canberra’s satellite cities, and the quirky suburban shopping centres, some flourishing, some on the brink of death.

Over the next few days, you’ll be visiting both cities. This itinerary takes in Canberra’s top sights as well as letting you in on a few of the city’s secrets. Thanks to Canberra’s less-than-stellar public transport system, you’ll need a car for some of the far-flung spots.

Things to do in Canberra: Day 1

The National Museum of Australia has been a lightning rod for controversy since it opened in 2001. Previous Prime Minister John Howard didn’t like its ‘black armband’ view of history – too much focus on genocide and guilt, he thought, and not at all something you’d want to take your family to visit. He used his influence to tone down some of the exhibits at the museum, but it still has a non-conventional (and some might say haphazard) take on the country’s history.

Before you head off, drop into one of the museum’s cafes and pick up a few things for a picnic lunch. If it’s a nice day, we’re going down to the river. Out by the New South Wales border on the north-west side of Canberra, Uriarra Crossing is the spot where the Uriarra Road meets the Murrumbidgee River, and in Canberra it’s what passes for a beach. Uriarra Crossing is the stuff of childhood memories – floating down the river on a blow-up mattress, waving flies away from a lunch of charred sausages, having a hit of cricket on the grassy banks.

If you’re super organized you can cook your own barbecue down here – there are basic grills, and piles of wood scattered around the place. Otherwise, slip into your swimming costume in the public toilet block and spend an hour or so mucking about in the river. Then unpack the picnic lunch and try to elbow in on someone else’s game of cricket or football, or just have a nap in some soft grass under the pine trees.

If the weather is a bit chilly for a swim, the Australian National Botanic Gardens is a great spot to visit, with a secluded rainforest gully, towering eucalypts spotted over sweeping lawns and a very nice café.

Head back into the city in the late afternoon, wash off the river water and frock up for a visit to one of Canberra’s secretive suburban restaurants. In the northern suburb of Hawker, Rocksalt sits between a takeaway chicken joint and a butcher shop and still manages to seem both classy and relaxed. Specialising in duck, this modern Australian restaurant also does a great kangaroo fillet and has a wide range of imaginative vegetarian dishes. If you want to learn more about Australian wines, this is a good place to do it – they love to give advice on matching wine and food, and are happy to sell you all kinds of drops by the glass.

Things to do in Canberra: Day 2

Canberra’s War Memorial

Today is ‘big ticket items’ day, when you’ll get to check off some of the city’s must-sees. The Australian War Memorial is Australia’s most-visited museum. Not just a memorial to Australia’s war dead, it investigates Australians in overseas conflicts from the 19th century to the current Iraq and Afghanistan wars.

For me the whole point of the memorial is the dioramas. These models of tiny soldiers in action, from Gallipoli to Korea, somehow do more to help you imagine what it might have been like than any immersive video experience could.

It’s easy to spend a whole morning at the War Memorial, but try to drag yourself away by lunchtime so you can head to Silo Bakery at Kingston for some of the best pastries you’ve ever tasted.

Spend the afternoon at the National Gallery of Australia. There’s always some kind of fancy international exhibition on here, but for free you can visit the Australian galleries and get a great overview of Aboriginal art, weird colonial-era paintings that try to make Australia look like Europe, and the muscular, bleak and exuberant pieces that came out of the 1950s and ’60s. The Children’s Gallery shows themed exhibitions with exercises and activities for kids, making a visit to the gallery less of a boring chore for the littlies.

If it’s a Friday, you’re in luck. Wander from the gallery up to Old Parliament House where, between 5 and 9pm, the ‘Café in the House’ puts on its immensely popular happy hour. If you’ve always wanted to flirt with a public servant, you’ve come to the right place – some would call it a ‘meat market’, but you should think of it as an anthropological exercise.

Any other evening, head back into the city for a couple of post-sightseeing cleansing ales at the Wig & Pen, Canberra’s long-running brew pub. It’s the spot to try a Kiandra Gold Pilsener, Kamberra Kolsch or one of several regular and seasonal beers brewed on site. Finish off your evening with dinner at one of Garema Place’s sidewalk cafes or – if you stay at the Wig for several too many – do the traditional Canberra late-night thing and order chips and gravy from city centre Chicken Gourmet.

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Are you planning a trip to Australia from the United States, or vice versa?

Here’s some good news. On February 15 the two nations signed an open skies agreement that deregulates air traffic between all airports in both countries. In a nutshell, it means that any certified air carrier can now fly between Australia and the United States. They simply must pay a fee to do so. Historically these routes have been locked up (some would say unfairly monopolized, but monopoly is such an ugly word) by United Airlines and Qantas.

These two airlines will not be pleased with the new open-skies agreement. For the first time Qantas and United will be forced to compete — gasp, it’s true — on price! No more overpriced tickets, no more lackluster service, no more being locked into a single carrier. At least that’s the hope.

An open skies agreement between the United Stated and the United Kingdom has revolutionized air travel between these two countries. Prices have fallen, new carriers have been created, and the “old” carriers have upgraded their planes, services and attitudes!

An advertisement for the new V Australia airline. United & Qantas will not be impressed.

Already we’re seeing something similar happening in Australia. A new airline called V Australia (part of the Virgin Blue group of airlines) has announced it will start flying brand-new planes at the end of 2008. No doubt other airlines will get into the action (please please please, Singapore Air, with your wonderful reclining seats and excellent in-flight service, please start flying between SFO and SYD, please please please).

All in all this agreement is a good thing for travelers flying between Australia and the United States. Qantas and United may be annoyed, but a little competition is always a healthy thing. Bring it on!

–Scott McNeely

Sydney is a truly magnificent city, blessed with friendly people, great restaurants and one of the most spectacular natural settings of any city in the world. But there’s one area that Sydney is well below par, and it’s even led the proud locals to admit – shock, horror – that they’re being beaten by rival city Melbourne.

Sydney is a terrible place for a drink.

Sydney: Sure it’s pretty, but can you find a bloody drink anywhere?

Until now your choices for an after-work tipple or a lazy Sunday afternoon session have been the pub (big, noisy, packed beer barns) and the club (big, noisy, packed beer barns… with poker machines).

All that is soon to change with the introduction of legislation aimed at reducing the licence fee for small venues. Current fees (around $15,000) are set to plummet to as little as $500 for small-capacity licensed premises. The bill, introduced to Parliament by Sydney’s Lord Mayor Clover Moore, states that Sydney should boast “a night economy that is diverse and in line with other cities - Australian cities like Melbourne and Perth, and European, American and Asian cities, such as Paris, Florence, San Francisco and Shanghai.”

Supporters of the change are excitedly predicting a rebirth of Sydney nightlife. No longer will those wanting a quiet drink with friends be forced to run the raucous gauntlet of George Street on a Saturday night. Smaller European-style bars and wine bars (so successful in Melbourne since similar licensing deregulation in the mid-1980s) will soon grace the back lanes and third-storeys of CBD buildings.

Not everyone is welcoming the change. Predictably, the Australian Hotels Association is opposing the liberalisation of licensing laws, with the Association’s president stating, “We (people from Sydney) don’t want to sit in a hole and drink chardonnay and read a book.” It seems, though, that as with cultured cities the world over, some Sydneysiders want to do just that.

As usual in a bar fight in Australia, the last word goes to a Labor Party identity. This time it was former Prime Minister and withering orator Paul Keating, who weighed in on the issue late last year: “The pub culture in Sydney is stultifyingly bad. It’s raucous and it’s noisy in the Klondike-like saloons. All that’s missing is Lola Montez. The idea that you have to go into these swills to get a drink, and not in some more beguiling place, is a shame.”

Bring it on!

–John Ryan

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s tours and things to do in Sydney, including Sydney food, bar & nightlife tours. Also read John’s previous post about finding a decent place to drink in Melbourne.

Since the mutinous days of Captain Bligh, Tahiti and French Polynesia have symbolized paradise for South Pacific travelers. The soaring volcanic peaks, white sand beaches, and emerald lagoons continue to feed escapist dreams. French Polynesia also caters to adventurers and sightseers, and the colorful histories of ancient Polynesia and French colonialism have produced many vestiges to explore. Culturally, the happy combination of Tahitian warmth and French style have engendered a milieu only enhanced by the natural beauty of the islands. French Polynesia is not an inexpensive destination but it seldom disappoints its visitors.

The top thing to do in Tahiti? Relax.

Thing to Do in Tahiti

Tahiti is French Polynesia’s biggest, most famous and historically interesting island. Most people arrive at Faaa International Airport on the outskirts of French Polynesia’s capital city, Papeete. Boulevard Pomare curves glamorously around Papeete Harbour, with yachts on one side and black-pearl boutiques on the other. The “Real Polynesia” is encountered at Papeete Market in the heart of downtown with flower and vegetable vendors downstairs and handicraft hawkers on the balconies above.

In the fashionable Vaima Center nearby are upscale shops, restaurants, cafes, and airline offices. Tahiti visitors can tour history museums, go hiking in the Faananu or Vaipoe valleys, or follow in Captain Cook’s footsteps at Point Venus. For a superb view of northern Tahiti and the silhouette of Moorea, the sunset dinner tour to the Belvedere Restaurant high above Papeete cannot be beat. The classic circle Tahiti tours include a stop at the Gauguin Museum in southern Tahiti where the painter’s final years in Polynesia are documented. Jeep safaris up and over Tahiti’s razer-sharp spine are also offered.

Things to Do in Moorea

Tahiti’s neighboring island, Moorea, has it all, including sparkling coral beaches, clear lagoons, archaeological sites, swanky resorts, intimate pensions, and some of the most striking scenery in the world. A 60-kilometer road circles the island with a sideroad to the Belvedere View Point high up in the mountains. The ruins of old Polynesian temples and compounds are scattered among the chestnut trees just below the view point. Exciting four-wheel drive safaris take visitors up dirt tracks to other high points around the island.

Those with a taste for culture can enjoy a spectacular Tahitian feast and show at the Tiki Theater Village. Moorea is famous for its marinelife and there are snorkeling tours, shark and ray feeding expeditions, and dolphin watching trips. One can swim with huge manta rays in the wild or be photographed with captive dolphins in an enclosure. Picnic trips by motorized outrigger canoe and sunset sailing cruises are available. In addition there are half a dozen scuba diving shops on Moorea and all the resorts have large watersports departments.

Things to Do in Bora Bora

Rooms with a view in Bora Bora

After the island of Tahiti, Bora Bora is French Polynesia’s (and the South Pacific’s) most famous island. On its reef, a chain of narrow islands surround a lagoon large enough to shelter a whole naval fleet (which actually happened during World War II). Sheer volcanic peaks soar from the lagoon, creating what James Michener called the “most beautiful island in the world.”

Exploring Bora Bora is fun. Circle-island tours by “le truck”, Polynesia’s breezy public transportation, follow the road around the island in a couple of hours. Alternatively, you can join a 4WD safari and roar up rugged bush tracks to spectacular viewpoints over the lagoon. Yet the best experience of all awaits you out on the lagoon. Join a motorized outrigger canoe tour and you’ll soon be snorkeling with sharks and manta rays as the animals are fed by experienced guides. Those looking for tamer stuff can stare at huge schools of tropical fish from a glass bottom boat. The two dozen large international hotels on Bora Bora aren’t cheap, but there are also lots of small family-operated pensions for budget watchers.

Things to Do in Raiatea & Huahine

If you have the time, it’s well worth stopping on Raiatea and Huahine on the way back to Papeete. Raiatea is French Polynesia’s most sacred island, the site of Marae Taputapuatea, one of the largest Polynesian temples in the South Pacific. All of the island tours call here. For something different, take a four-wheel drive jeep safari to places the tour buses can’t reach, available on both Raiatea and Huahine.

On Raiatea, you can board a motorized outrigger canoe for a ride up the Faaroa River or out to a black pearl farm in stilts over the lagoon. Huahine is French Polynesia’s undiscovered gem, its single large international resort inaccessible by road. The Maeva archaeological area on Huahine contains dozens of restored Polynesian temples, some on the mountain and others by the lagoon. Huahine is actually two large volcanic islands connected by a bridge and the circle island tours do a figure eight around it all. If you missed the motorized outrigger tours on Bora Bora and Raiatea, take the Huahine picnic cruise to get an entirely different look at the island.

Things to Do in the Tuamotu Islands

The Tuamotu Group is a chain of 78 coral islands and atolls stretching 1,500 kilometers across the South Pacific Ocean. Rangiroa, one of the largest atolls in the world, is a scuba diving paradise with strong tidal flows through the two passes into its lagoon. Divers from afar come to drift with the current back into the lagoon through schools of sharks, dolphins, and other fish.

Manihi and Fakarava atolls offer similar experiences. Manihi is the most accessible of French Polynesia’s major pearl farming areas and there are tours which demonstrate the pearl farming process. Motorized outrigger tours to isolated reef islands called motus are possible on all of the atolls with tourist accommodations. When you’re not diving, snorkeling is the thing to do here. Be aware, however, that there are no mountains to climb in the Tuamotus and few shops to visit, and those uninterested in watersports should choose another destination.

Things to Do in the Austral Islands

Few travelers reach the volcanic islands of the Austral Group south of Tahiti where the climate is cooler than in the rest of French Polynesia. The best time to go is in June and July when pods of humpback whales swim to Rurutu and Tubuai from Antarctica to bear their young. Each island has a dive shop which organizes whalewatching tours. Tubuai and Raivavae each have rings of reef islets around the main island, which makes them ideal for those into watersports. Rurutu is great for hikers with tracks to many scenic seaside viewpoints and few inhabitants. Lonely little Rapa, the southernmost island in the South Pacific, has intriguing Polynesia fortresses on its hilltops but the island is only accessible by infrequent ships.

Things to Do in the Marquesas Islands

The legendary Marquesas Islands are among the most prized destinations in the South Pacific. This chain of high volcanic islands, 1,400 kilometers northeast of Papeete, is an expensive plane ride or long boat trip from Tahiti. The Marquesas has its own unique Polynesian culture exemplified by the large stone tikis standing at archaeological sites on Nuku Hiva and Hiva Oa.

Whenever cruiseships call, the Marquesans stage Polynesian dance shows and prepare island feasts. The best way to go is on the passenger-carrying freighter Aranui, which calls at all six inhabited islands once or twice a month on 16-day cruises from Papeete. On the island of Hiva Oa, shore excursions visit the graves of French painter Paul Gauguin and French chanson singer Jacques Brel.

–David Stanley

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s tours & things to do in Tahiti, from Moorea tours to things to do in Bora Bora and Papetee.

Call it synchronicity, call it what you will. When I receive two emails about something, then it must be a trend. Or a coincidence. Or possibly just another day on the internet.

Case in point. A few weeks ago I was forwarded a link to a fascinating article on BudgetTravel.com about 10 Celebrity-Trashed Hotel Rooms. Normally I don’t pay attention to celebrity gossip. But how can you resist a story about hotels and their celebrity guests. Keith Moon after a stay at the Day’s Inn in Michigan? $24,000 in damage. Johnny Depp after an altercation with girlfriend Kate Moss at the Mark Hotel in New York City? $9,000 in damage. Billy Idol after a three-week drug and booze binge at the Oriental Hotel in Bangkok? Carried out in a stretcher plus a $200,000 bill.

Now that’s quality celebrity entertainment!

Then just last week a coworker (we’ll call her elly-kay to protect the innocent) sent me a link to a new celebrity hotel development, the Brando Eco Hotel on the island of Tetiaroa in Tahiti (a.k.a. French Polynesia). Marlon Brando apparently fell in love with the island in 1965 after filming Mutiny of the Bounty. So of course he bought it. As one does.

Brando’s Eco Hotel: Population 1

Here’s an excerpt from the website. We’ll do some close textual analysis in a moment:

The former playground of Tahitian Kings, Tetiaroa is now virtually uninhabited (population of one – Brando’s son Teihotu). The project is being overseen by Tahiti Beachcomber SA, whose CEO, Richard Bailey, owner of several luxury resorts in French Polynesia, had been in contact with the actor for a number of years… “The Brando eco-hotel will be exactly what Marlon would have wanted: Energy-autonomous and built with natural materials, it will rest lightly on its environment and be nearly invisible from the water. It will showcase the latest in renewable energy technologies, including some we are already employing in our new hotel in Bora Bora, which Marlon had promised to inaugurate. We worked together on this project for three years before he died,” says CEO Bailey.

If you don’t think too hard about, it sounds like a lovely story. Marlon Brando falls in love with a Tahitian island, buys it, and pours millions of dollars into developing a luxury hotel complex built on ecologically sound practices. Good on ya, Marlon.

Now for that close textual analysis...

Tetiaroa is now virtually uninhabited (population of one – Brando’s son Teihotu). Hmmm, population of one. Could that be because Marlon Brando begged Teihotu’s mother, Tarita Teriipaia, to have his child but later changed his mind and urged her to have an abortion? (She refused and the couple had a son, Teihotu, followed by a daughter, Cheyenne.) Or maybe it’s because Marlon later committed Teihotu’s sister Cheyenne to a revolving door of psychiatric institutes. “When she started being ill, Marlon stopped coming here, to Tahiti, and no longer called,” Teriipaia writes in her tell-all book, Marlon, My Love, My Suffering. Or maybe it’s because Teihotu’s sister Cheyenne hanged herself in 1995 after her brother (Teihotu’s half-brother), Christian Brando, shot and killed Cheyenne’s boyfriend, Dag Drollet, in 1990. Either way, Teihotu has plenty of reasons to live alone.

And what about this bit: The Brando eco-hotel will be exactly what Marlon would have wanted: Energy-autonomous and built with natural materials, it will rest lightly on its environment and be nearly invisible from the water. Yeah, that sounds like the Marlon Brando who demanded a multi-million dollar fee to appear briefly in the film Superman. Or the man who helped Leonard Peltier flee the FBI in a motor home filled with dynamite, guns and airplane tickets charged to Brando’s own credit card. Yup, that sounds like somebody who’s primary concern in life is energy autonomy and natural building materials.

And then there’s that final telling detail: It will showcase the latest in renewable energy technologies, including some we are already employing in our new hotel in Bora Bora, which Marlon had promised to inaugurate. My interpretation of CEO Bailey’s comment — ‘Marlon you owe me money! You said he would pay for all this, is the check really in the mail??’

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m sure the Brando Eco Hotel will be a lovely place when it opens. If it ever opens. But let’s not get carried away. Let’s not paint the place with a brush dipped in Marlon Brando’s good name or fame. The man was a nut. The man brutalized his children. The man was out of control.

The Brando Eco Hotel may well prove to be a great place to stay. But it will have nothing to do with Brando, or the Brando mystique. This is a case of celebrity hotel-trashing that leaves a sour taste in the mouth, and CEO Bailey ought to do everything he can to distance the project from the deceased star.

In the very least, we all should leave poor Teihotu alone in his splendid isolation. The last thing Teihotu needs is a pack of celebrity-seeking tourists demanding autographs and remembrances of the Great Man.

–Scott McNeely

More than a few years ago, back when the Earth was flat and tourist was just another name for traveller, I lived in a little piece of paradise some 80 kilometres out of that Ultima Thule, Darwin. The one that you hear so much about, middle of nowhere but somehow the centre of something.

This little patch was on the edge of the “other” National Park of the north, the tourists they all want to see the mighty Ka Ka Doo (Kakadu National Park), with its huge waterfalls and billabongs and crocodiles and blablabla…

Not so many make it over to Litchfield National Park, two hours closer to the “action”, if that’s what you’d call it in Town, and in my small estimation at least twice the better of its eastern cousin, too. (Cut to the chase if you like; click here for a Viator tour to Litchfield National Park from Darwin.)

Now, as far as geology goes, one of my small hobbies in stretching myself out over the land that shares its place on the mighty Terra Australis, Litchfield and Kakadu, and the Tanami Desert for that matter, they have at least one thing in common – oldest rock shelves in the Northern Territory.

Where the rock’s old, and you’ll find mining engineers and prospecting companies gathering and rubbing their hands in anticipation of future prosperity. Litchfield has many subterranean friends: gold, copper, lead, nickel, cobalt and of course the great U with no learning – uranium. ‘Twas the site of Australia’s first Yew-ranium mine, it was, and the little bits that lie discretely from the average travellers’ way still bear silent testimony to this passing historical fact.

Why bother you with a history and geology lesson on the point of travel? Well, it’s these finer details, hidden away beneath time’s passing veil and the layer of dirt we call Earth, that give the true tips on where to go and how to stay. I’m not going to spoil it for you and tell you what kind of plant sits atop these little collections of metallurgical joy, saying that there is probably water about, too.

But when you learn the signs you can read the land, something that many a “True Blue” Australian may have never encountered in their time in this new country of ancient means. Suffice to say, Litchfield might not be the biggest of the mighty North’s national parks, but it has secret wonders if only you look.

And perhaps, without upsetting the locals, I’ll share a hint or two…

Litchfield National Park: Jack Shares a Secret, or Two

After the first hour out of Darwin, past the many new traffic lights and points of congestion, and just after the Noonamah pub, you’ll strike the turn-off to the “back way” into Litchfield, along Cox Peninsula Road. This is no secret and probably even the locals aren’t big fans of the slow dirt road that coaxes you in after the 30 km or more of tar that lead to it. You can wave as you pass my old shack, a couple of K’s off to the east as you barrel down the road. Over to the left, round the Blackmore River, the black soil plains flood come wet season, when this road is cut off further down by the Finniss River, and I’m told great crocodiles roam the area and even scarier locals roam on those airboats like in Gentle Ben. But I digress.

The road through the park, being a loop, brings you back out at Cox Peninsula. The other way into Litchfield is further down the Stuart Highway and through the town of Batchelor – which got a little write up in my first post. Follow the signs and once you’re through, the scenery settles a little and undulates some, too. A couple of jump-ups to small escarpments though the eastern side of the park and where there’s a drop, you may find waterfalls. As the ground moves round, you’ll also notice some signs pointing out the famed Magnetic Termite Mounds. Unless you’re out to estrange friends you haven’t met yet, don’t worry about these little roped-off patches of tourist turf, there’s plenty more little wonders like these spread around. Over on the CP Road entrance, there’s a whole unmarked field of them waiting to stand and wave at you as they turn pink in the sunset.

Termite Mounds at Litchfield National Park

There’s two little theories on why the termite mounds run east-west (or north-south depending on how you look at it) – some say it’s a cooling effect, their skinny edge attracting less of the sun’s heating rays, as with their cathedral mound cousins which employ crenelation for their air-conditioning. The other reason proposed by those in the know is that they follow the strong magnetic lines in the area, and the little geothermal line that starts round the west side would maye suggest something in that, as well as all the lightning storms I used to watch from my verandah back in the days I lived there. For many of these reasons, Pethericks Rainforest Reserve, a privately owned camping area by local indigenous people is worth stopping at for a swim, be sure to show respect and follow their signs.

Things to Do at Litchfield National Park

Florence Falls (east side) and Wangi Falls (west side) both have camping and waterfalls, too, though in peak season (May/June to September/October) and especially weekends you may have trouble finding a spot to get wet, so get in early. There’s also a bit of a circular current in Wangi Falls and those that find swimming a struggle (everyone in Australia has to learn to swim as a youngster in school) have been known to have a little trouble with the the pull round the far waterfall. Buley Rockhole also has a plethora of mini-waterfalls and splashing around spots, but sometimes its as simple as respectfully slipping a little way down the creek and some peace can be yours.

Waterfall in Litchfield National Park

For those of you pulling some mobility in a 4WD, the Lost City makes for an interesting excursion because, well, it looks like a lost city, all Stonehenge but in the bush. It’s a bit of a hike but worth heading out, because again, there’s less people milling about catching flies with their mouths agape at all the natural wonder out there.

Another way to escape the crowds, but not the heat if you don’t take a hat and some water, is the TableTop Walk between Wangi Falls and Buley Rockhole. There’s a few of these off track wonders around the park, taking a compass and map sure help, otherwise some good boots and something to keep the grass seeds out of your leg hair. Nothing quite like getting out on the plateau and doing a bit of discovering for yourself away from the luxury of the air-con and teeming hordes. There’s a bit of information on it you can download from the NT Government site here.

Now I’d be run back out of town next time I go back if I divulged all the little secrets here, for the world to see, that Litchfield has hidden under the brim of her hat. But suffice to say this little taster tells you that you don´t need to pay the earth and drive for a couple of hours to actually spend some quality time in the bush if Kakadu is not your calling.

–Jack Brown

Planning a trip? Browse all of Viator’s Darwin tours and things to do in Alice Springs, including Kakadu National Park and Litchfield National Park.