There's no "Q" in Korea

Coming to Korea - albeit overnight - is a bit of a culture shock. I mean, one only knows as much about Korea as one reads online. There was a Starcraft TV channel at the hotel the airline put me up in for the overnight stay, there is internet access everywhere, there are a hell of a lot of Korean cars on the road (yes, they don't just sell them overseas by the squillion.)

One thing I wasn't prepared for though - particularly given my time in the United Kingdom - is the lack of what we would consider to be basic politeness, particularly when you're trying to buy something or even just walk through the airport. Don't get me wrong, the Koreans excel at bowing and scraping when the occasion calls for it. I think it was a bit of a culture shock to have the smart Korean hotel porter carry my grotty luggage into the airport hotel, closely followed behind by an even grottier me. Another example is leaving the airport - while the Australian customs officials give everyone the "I think you've got 10 condoms full of heroin in your stomach and live endangered species stuffed down your strides" look, the Korean guy examined my passport with a gloved hand and a smile, handed it back, and bowed.

But back to what I was talking about. I have a bruised elbow from being shoulder charged by a Korean woman on the wrong side of 60, no less, whilst waiting to be served at the Duty Free counter. (She was only 5 foot, so her shoulder connected with my elbow.) I contemplated giving her a mouthful, but realised that she probably wouldn't understand me, and there is no glory to be had in yelling at elderly people. I walked past another store selling cosmetics, and it looked like a mosh pit, except everyone was asian and middle aged.

Coming from England, where every English person forms an orderly queue of one, if there is no queue already in place, this was a bit of a shock.

When you can get away from the crowds, the Koreans do manage to put on a nice smiley face. Introduce a crowd situation though, and you release the animal within.

And by animal within, I mean the dog that they probably ate for supper last night.

The boy from Oz

The boy from Oz, is having ( or has had, rather) a wonderful time whilst he has been back home, which would undoubtedly explain the absence of activity on this blog while I've been back here in Australia.

To be honest though, this is a travel blog, and it's not really classified as travel if you're just recounting the exploits of what you've been up to back home. I mean, everyone back home in Oz who actually bothers to read this blog knows what I've been up to - mainly because they were there with me when it happened. All I'm going to achieve by writing about stuff I got up to back home is make everyone at work jealous, to the point where I may not be all that welcome when I return. Mind you, I think the fact I have acquired tanned limbs to replace my pommy white colour is going to irritate them no end in any event, so what the hey. A brief summary then.

Since I've been back in Oz, during the past 2 and a half weeks I have managed to:

- Play with the band on ANZAC Day
- Visit Dan's hotrod
- Beat Dan at Warhammer
- Spend a weekend of drunken antics up on the Sunshine coast with the boys
- Visit my grandparents
- Drive 2000 km into the outback
- Spend a week camped on the banks of the Gregory River
- Go swimming everyday whilst camped there
- Complete a 43km canoe race without my shoulders disintegrating
- Get colour back into my sun-deprived pallid skin

With less than 48 hours to go until I board the plane that will whisk me back into the skies and the long slog back to London, I'm frantically packing my bag, trying to catch up with various people I haven't managed to see yet and yet, amidst all this chaos I still find time to update this blog.

Well, it was about bloody time.

Now, I do have some pictures of the Gregory river for you all - they are large pictures though since I'm doing this blog from my home computer, and I don't have my picture resizing program handy (and am too lazy to download another one). So, anyone still on dial-up, you have been warned.



First, the mighty Toyota Landcruiser, that carried us up to the Gregory. It's a veteran of several outback trips now, and is still soldering on. A real bastard to drive though - it has a tendency to drift across seemingly flat stretches of bitumen very easily.



Our camp. A model of simplicity. Ex-army camp stretchers with foam mattress, fold out camp table and chairs, use the tray of the truck as a bench, and stretch an enormous tarp over the whole campsite. Easy. Who needs a tent?


A shot of the moon, taken on the highway - I think it was between Barcaldine and Blackall. In other words, the middle of bloody nowhere.

And finally, the river itself.




Great place for tubing, swimming, relaxing - whatever. Certainly well worth the week I spent up there.

Anyways, must dash - have people to see tonight, and a game of indoor cricket to play - but in less than 48 hours I will be heading back to London. A tinge of regret - well, yes.

But it's not for a year this time. Come November I will be back in Oz for good, so I need to make the most of the next 5 months or so that I have available to me. Should make for good blogging, in any event.