Great Ocean road

Wow, many times wow, at every stop, at every bent, at every lookout point.
Watching cliffs sculptured by the waves and the winds during millennia can be breathtaking. The Arch, the London bridge (fallen down, fallen down), the Loch Ard gorge where ships used to wreak in the 19 century and the amazing 12 Apostles (which are not really apostles and not even 12, but after all, it does not matter).

This must be quintessential Australian. A beautiful landscape, tough natural evolution, strong sunshine (burning despite the chilly wind), large beaches with huge waves and blond surfers, long roads and kangaroo/koala warnings all along.

Carcasses of several kangaroos killed in road accidents are testimony that those warnings are not unnecessary. But luckily the forest along the lighthouse road is great for koala spotting: sweet koalas clinging on eucalyptus branches, trying to grab some of those yummy (?) leaves are very rewarding for the sun-burnt travellers.

A walk on the beach at sunset, a nice dinner in a restaurant overlooking the shores, a short walk to the lighthouse split-point. Anything would do today. Anything on this road will be right to keep the magic going. What a glorious end of the year.

So this is Christmas?

So many times we hear people having troubles coping with Christmas, because of lack of time to buy all the presents or because of sadness for the lost childhood happiness of this time of the year. Or perhaps because the whole world is upside down and things seem completely out of tune.

Imagine a huge Christmas tree in the main square of a town, when outside is 32 degrees and you are sweating every minute of the day, unless you are swimming in crystal clear water at 28 degrees with a bunch of clown fishes - and jelly fishes.

Imagine it is Christmas eve in a frontier town: 20.000 inhabitants and 50.000 snakes, bars close at 6, one restaurant remains exceptionally open until 9, there is no place to go before the midnight mass and you should probably not go anyway because it is highly recommended not to stay out in the streets at night. And you are sweating again.

Imagine it is 45 degrees Celsius now, in a splendidly red desert, there is a swimming pool with palm trees and a receptionist offering you some chocolate:
"oh, thanks, this is so sweet of you"
"no, it is Christmas".

Imagine Santa coming in many different forms: as a scarecrow carrying the just harvested hay or - rather obviously - on a surf board or on a SUV disguised as a reindeer with a red nose.

Imagine still to catch a plane around noon and have your Christmas lunch 10.000 mt high. And lunch is a frozen chicken sandwich. And imagine you finally land, it is 25 degrees (and you are complaining) and at last you can sit in a normal restaurant - the only one open in town - and order a typical - which you never ever had before - Christmas lunch: stuffed turkey and Christmas pudding.

Merry Christmas down under!

In the outback

A very young country lying on the oldest of the continents. A land of extremes. Extreme rainfall - which locals measure in metres, not millimitres - giving rise to rain forests, huge palms trees, long rivers and billabongs populated by unusual birds, colourful butterflies and hungry crocodiles. And extreme heat, with temperatures jumping "up to ridiculous" - said the driver pointing at the 45 degrees on the termometre - home to stunning many-million-year old monoliths, snakes, lizards and pesky flies.

Life in the outback is extreme as well. No phone connection, limited water supply, long distances and all sort of threats, from venomous snakes to floods, from isolation to heat strokes. Still, people come here: ranger posts, cattle farms, national parks shops and services. Doctors here come by airplane and there are sandy red runways in the middle of a semi-desert land. Children, used to interact only with adults, go to a virtual school in a classroom of a few thousand square km. The definition of friendliness here has a no-nonsense nuance which sets it quite apart from the east-coast laid back attitude.

Never mind decades of explorations and modern life. The dangerous fascination this frontier land exercise on human spirit is still intact.

In the land of Anbangbang

Where are you waiting for the Mayan end of the world today? We chose Kakadu park. It feels already like the end of the world anyway. The driver said 800 km to drive in a park of 20.000 kmq.

Light rain today and long straight roads through Aboriginal land. Long lonely highways, north to south and east to west. In a couple of weeks these roads will not exist any longer, covered by 2 metres of water fallen from the sky. We are just at the edge of the inevitable.

Kakadu is not like the Daintree rainforest and has none of its giant trees, but this is Crocodile Dundee's land, so watch out for crocs and Aborigines.

Crocodiles are big, smart and dangerous and you are part of the food chain here. Crocodiles have sensors to detect movement, they swim under water with not a single wave on the surface, they can jump out of the water in no time and grab an arm or a leg of yours. But no worries, a croc stomach fills up with just about an arm, so it will not eat the whole of you. It will simply kill you, eat a bit and leave your body floating on the murky waters for other crocs to also have a go at you.

Aborigines had a hard time with the white man, his guns, booze and germs. And with his rule of law, not recognizing their properties or citizenship rights for longtime. Aborigines tell stories. They painted them on their rocks for millennia, now they paint on items for sale. Then they tell stories on what those paintings mean, different stories to children, to adults, to whites. Maybe they take us all for a ride.

A bit like our blue eyed, sun tanned, sharp tongue driver guide going by the name of Matt.

G'day mate, welcome to Cairns

Landed. Australia it is, finally. It is 5 am and the jet lag is killing but that was the deal, mate.
First encounter with Australian culture: espresso is 'short black', latte is 'flat white'. Easy concepts. Pretty pragmatic those Aussies.
Why a short black should cost 4 or 5 dollars is not as easy to understand though.

It is 30 degrees C out there and there is a Christmas tree in the hotel lobby. Indeed, it does feel kind of awkward. But the Great Barrier Reef is just a boat ride away, so forget your Mariah Carey and all she wants for Christmas on air, get your boat ticket and go swim with the fishes in those warm crystal clear waters: clownfishes are waiting for you. So is the scooba doo diving experience, a Chinese favourite apparently, but it is not extremely difficult to lure a couple of European hopefuls - hopefools? - into trying it. Yes, it is kitsch; yes, it is overpriced; yes, you are going down a mere 4 metres. Still, try to go from aquafobia to 4 metres under water and then we talk again.

A few kilometres away, "where the great barrier reef and the rainforest meet", lies another stunning display of natural beauty: the Daintree rainforest, home to tall trees, lianas, millennia-old plants and lizards who do not need sun to warm up. And to those beautiful giant blue butterflies you may have seen only in cartoons before.

But the Australian day finishes early. At 6 pm everybody is already busy with dinner. What better way to close the day with a kangaroo steak or some kanga banga sausages grilled on the barbecue facilities freely available in the city park? Admittedly, you are going to feel a little guilty later on, when you meet those cute kangaroos that love you at first sight (of the apple and carrot slices you are handing them) and try to hug you tight (to grab the can of fruit you are holding).

Tokyo time

A long flight, fast-forwarding through the day towards a sleepless night in Economy class and Tokyo welcomes us, jet lagged and all, but with about 30 hours to invest.

Funny sights all around: all these young girls and boys in school uniform like the in the cartoons from our childhood, the manga characters all over the city, the extreme politeness of formalities and bows, the extreme complexity of the massive subway network.

The first day is dominated by sleeping: resisting the urge to jump in a proper bed while taking advantage of every occasion to close your eyes for 15 minutes. It did not take us long to realise that the Japanese seem to have mastered the fine art of power napping during their long subway rides and we are very happy to copy such good habits while crossing the city from Shinjuku station to the Asakusa temple, from the 600 mt tall Skytree tower to busy Shibuya area.

The other undisputed protagonist of this day and half is fish. Excellent sushi at no-midori restaurant for dinner, followed by alarm clock at 4 am local time to reach the fish market for a rich sashimi breakfast of amazing tuna of 3 different types.

And endless queuing. To buy coffee, to get into the restaurant, for admission to the Skytree, to take the elevator, to enter the metro, to take a picture of the temple, to get money from an ATM. Closing our stay with a long queue at the check-in desk of Jetstar Airways is the minimum to keep up with the style.

Good bye Japan, next stop: summertime.