A brief taste of Perth.

In the Merry Old Land of OZ
Western Australia, Day 5
Monday, September 1

Uncle Jerry wasn’t able to get into work Monday morning due to full parking lots at the train station. (I wish I could use that excuse and get away with it.) Since he didn’t actually have to be at work until 3 or so for a meeting, however, it ended up working out really well for me: He offered to take me into Perth for the morning.

I was excited, because, after coming all this way, I was glad I was at least going to say I got a taste of Western Australia’s flag city. It was a rainy morning as we made the half-hour commute, a light mist still falling as we pulled off the motorway and into the city.

The first stop was King’s Park and Botanical Gardens (I seem to be hitting up a lot of those lately, too!). The rain let up as we were walking over this really neat raised bridge up in the trees, and the morning improved from there. I liked King’s Park, and would have liked to spend more time there. I think it was probably because it was so green. I like Aussie, don’t get me wrong, but I did find myself missing the greens of New Zealand.

As it was, though, we walked around for perhaps 20 minutes on winding paths, bordered by native trees and plants and Aboriginal artwork and information. A lot of the Aboriginal ancestral “dreamings” were briefly explained on plaques here and there. I was brought back to Chatwin’s “The Songlines,” and was really glad that I had decided to read it after all.

We walked to the edge of the gardens, where you can overlook the city from the footpath. The Perth skyline isn’t very tall or wide or, really, all that impressive. Perth is actually a lot smaller than I had expected it to be.

We headed back through the park, passing various war memorials and stopping quickly in the gift shop to pick up a few postcards. Then it was down into the heart of the city.

Parking in a car park, near the entertainment center, we set off into downtown Perth. Uncle Jerry pointed out the train station, the Horseshoe Bridge, and other various things here and there. We weaved our way through the main strip of shopping, heading for the waterfront. He wanted to show me the Bell Tower – the best-known piece of architecture in Perth.

Situated in Barrack Square and overlooking the Swan River, the Bell Tower, while certainly no Opera House or Harbor Bridge, was really cool looking in its own right. With brick-red “sails” at the bottom and a slim tower of green glass reaching up like a too-tall mast, it’s easy to see how it now serves as Perth’s “symbol.”

I was happy to simply take photos of it from outside, but Uncle Jerry said we should go up it. Had I known that it would cost us 20 dollars to do so, I probably would have declined. As it was, though, I soon found myself climbing the winding stairs (since the elevator was temporarily out of service) that snaked around the tower.

It was a warm afternoon (well, warm by my standards, at least), and I found myself sweating as we paused to watch the bells being rung in the belfry. The bells – the Swan Bells as they’ve been renamed – have an interesting history of their own. Twelve of the 18 bells used to hang in London’s St. Martin-in-the-Fields church in Trafalgar Square, and date back to somewhere between 1725 and 1770. They were gifted to Western Australia to commemorate Australia’s bicentennial in 1988, and eventually ended up as part of WA’s “Millennium Project” – The Swan Bells.

Today, the 12 old bells, along with six newer ones, are still rung the old-fashioned way. You can pay extra to take part in the bell ringing, which happens sometimes multiple times an hour. Apparently this is very popular with the kids.

As we made our way up to the observation deck (and some fresh, cool air), I could see why kids would really like coming to the tower to ring the bells. The 18 bells sounded loudly out over the water and city, and made me smile. It’s definitely a step up from the church “bells” that “ring” every 15 minutes at ONU. (Sorry ONU, but a recording of bells ringing just doesn’t quite do the trick for me.)

After the Bell Tower, we headed into town again for a quick sandwich, and then it was back to the house. Uncle Jerry had to get to work.

That afternoon, I went with Lindy and Aedan to pick Hannah up from school. She attends a small alternative school, and, after a week of hearing about lunch restrictions, no-homework policies and lessons about “personal space,” I found seeing such a school first-hand quite intriguing.

It was not much more than a collection of buildings, colorful artwork, and a sandy playground. Kids weighed down by large backpacks raced across the parking lot, a few of them stopping to say hi to Aedan. He’s apparently very popular with the older boys in Hannah’s class.

I can see why such a small, informal school would be appealing. There was a very friendly feeling in the air as I watched kids greeting parents and saying their farewells to each other in the afternoon sun. Aedan ran off to play in (can you guess?) the sand as Lindy caught up with a few other mothers. Aedan got a ride on the swing (and a nice mouthful of sand when he fell off, laughing) before we left.

We stopped at a small park on the way home, where Hannah and Aedan had fun going down the slide and climbing on the rope jungle gym. I was content to sit in the sun and watch.

That evening brought with it another delicious home-cooked meal (a pork roast this time), and plenty more antics from Aedan. He’d finally gotten totally over his shyness around me, and spent the evening showing off. This included eating his dinner with a fork, eating sand out of his shoes, and giving me a bit of a show after his bath as he rode around on his firetruck wearing nothing but a pair of sparkly bunny ears. I wish I’d snapped a photo – it would have come in good handy 10 years or so from now for blackmail purposes.

Uncle Jerry drove me to the airport later that night, and followed me all the way through to my gate. I found this slightly funny, since I’ve been travelling on my own for some time now. But I suppose it’s just the uncle/dad in him.

Then began the long night of air travel. I caught the red eye from Perth to Melbourne around 11 p.m., and then flew from Melbourne to Sydney to Christchurch to Wellington. I arrived back in Wellington around 5 p.m. the next day, with my luggage somewhere back in Australia. If I hadn’t been so tired, I probably would have cared a lot more. As it was, all I wanted was to fall into bed.