Of course, it makes sense now.

Road houses should be UFO themed with slightly creepy doll collections.

Pubs should hold old collections of undewear and hang them for display over the bar.

Farmers should decide that there aren't enough tropical fruits being grown in the arid, dry outback, so establish a mango farm.

And roads should be used for picnics. Especially bc the main highway between Darwin and Adelaide only hosts a car or truck every ten minutes or so.

It's day three (I think) of our road trip. Despite the fact I've been living in the Territory for 10 months or so, I have learned a hell of a lot about this place in the last few days.

Lesson one: Giant birds love to fly directly for your windscreen. It doesn't help to duck under your steering wheel when slightly frightened.

Lesson two: Don't sing the road trip away. Not only does it annoy your fellow passengers, you may end up with a slightly hoarse voice.

Lesson three: Don't make bets with strange men in pubs about the amount of food you can eat. It will only end up in tears. Or taking money from people that probably can't afford it.

Lesson four: Drink mango wine. Don't drink mango port.

Lesson five: Don't look down while walking if you are drunk. Apparently this makes you walk slightly awkwardly. And the bouncer at the local pub doesn't like that.


I'm sure there'll be more lessons learned.

But, for now - I'm going hiking. Pretending to be healthy.

Trying to leave ...

It's strange the things you realise you'll miss when the time comes to leave a town.

Like the way familiar faces seem to pop out of nowhere, ready for a 20 minute chat ... when you're really hung over and all you want is to eat your laksa and read the paper.

Or the headlines in the local paper "man has bomb in pants" or "crocodile found in swimming pool".

Or pretending to work while emailing the person sitting next to you, either with the latest gossip or ways in which to describe 'pounding it'.

Or how no matter how cold your shower is, always managing to sweat enough for your make up to melt off the minute you dry yourself.

And finally, realising that I really shouldn't start my first blog for my round the world trip while I'm a little tipsy, and even more teary as I come to the realisation I'm going to miss my mates like crazy.

Ok. So I'm going to start again.

10:37pm. 28th Jan. Rush from the airport carpark through security. Bloody hell. The plane has landed. Have I already lost Michele? ... Mel I blame this on you for making me attend an impromptu kareoke session in your flat.

12:02am. 29th Jan. I've remembered how long and funny and random Mich's stories are. Also remembered that I haven't slept for a few days and I think passing out is a very good option.

1:37pm. 29th Jan. Adelaide River. Crocodile Cruise. Why have I waited until my last day in Darwin to watch a caricature Top Ender feed blocks of frozen meat to beasts that have enough power in their jaw to kill me in an instant? The short skirt, the boots, the hat, that voice. I'm waiting for someone to write a sitcom on this woman.

7:45pm. Sunset. Sailing Club. Darwin. I think Pablo Picasso has rolled over in his grave and spilled a few pots of paint in the sky. Don't think I'll ever forget how amazing the sky is in this place.

9:12. 29th Jan. Sailing Club. Finishing my 3rd beer. Debating the benefits of going without underwear to work. Glad this conversation is happening after I've quit my job.

9:56pm. Say goodbye to people who have created my memories of Darwin. Pretend I'm ok with going. I'm not. I want to stay. My ticket to Guatemala is calling me ... but tonight, right now, I don't want to answer.

And now. I am learning the art of blogging. Not very well, quite obviously, and for those of you who are realising there may be months of this ahead - please be patient. I promise I won't write when I'm tipsy or upset again.

Let the road open up, and a trip begin ...