Port Stephens, Australia...beneath the bullet casings lies a delightful little paradise...
Nelson Bay is a little
harbourside town, surrounded by several other small harbourside
towns, on the retirement belt that is the mid NSW coast, two hours from Sydney. It's
pleasant and isolated, with a lovely harbour that's too shallow for
any vessel larger than a duck. Therefore, it is almost completely
natural. This might lead you to think it's unspoilt. But put away
your illusions, because you're in for a wild ride.
The first thing that
will happen, on arrival, is that a gang of four year olds, with neck
tattoos, will steal your stereo before your car has even come to a
stop. And don't think you'll escape this experience by cleverly being
called Graham, having a comb-over and driving a Peugeot 404 with only
a cassette player, because cassette tape technology is about to
arrive here this year, if the new council drive to replace the
gramophone is successful.
Don't get the idea that
the council is stuck in the 1800s, however. Oh no. They've moved
forwards to the mid twentieth century, or more specifically, Germany
in the early 1940s.
If you decide to live
here (for God's sake don't) you may wish, like 99 % of residents, to
buy yourself a speedboat on a trailer. With the gorgeous and shallow
harbour, it's the best place in the world to own one. Sadly, there's
nowhere to store it.
On your own property?
No, the council has banned it. In your own driveway? Banned. In the
water? Banned. And if you flout this ban, you'll be shot by council rangers dressed as Gestapo.
But back to the matter
of your stereo, your car that is now sitting up on bricks, minus its
wheels, and is now engulfed in flames, all of which which has
occurred before you've even had time to unbuckle your seatbelt.
The Bay Rats, as this
group of preschoolers is called, will run down the road to sell your
stereo at the local preschool, so they can buy drugs from grandmother
at the nursing home. Don't chase them, because if you do, you'll
start to hallucinate that there's a steam locomotive charging towards
you from the innards of the dole office. In fact it's the children's
mothers, whose names are Sharon, Sherree and Shazza, charging out in
a cloud of bong smoke, as the syringes hanging out of their arms
tinkle and clatter together like the bell atop a locomotive.
But it's not all
shambling drug-crazed zombies and devil children robbing you. In
fact, the place itself is quite pleasant. People in the street will
smile and say hello, and most shopkeepers will greet you by name,
except at Coles, which has the largest range of expired yoghurts this
side of parliament house. This is because everyone who works there is
called Sue, has a face like a cow's intestines, is 45 years old,
weighs more than a tractor, has thighs like a mammoth, a moustache
like a walrus, and the personality of Pol Pot.
There are more friendly
locals awaiting you at the harbour. Dolphins frolic in the waters of
the Port Stephens, which are so blue and clear, it's as if the sky has
melted and slid to earth. If you don't see any within a few minutes,
you'll definitely see them on their evening visit to the rock-wall
enclosed mini-harbour where rich people's boats sleep, and there's
pelicans standing shoulder to shoulder with the many fisherman,
waiting patiently for their meal of fish guts. If these don't ring
your bell, it's a five minute walk to fly point, where there's
glorious shallow-water diving, and the occasional pacific turtle to
be seen.
Port Stephens itself is
a large, shallow harbour guarded at the sea entrance by a pair of
mountains, and outside of these, whales can be seen most months of
the year, travelling between Antarctica and the equator. Which is
about as far as you'll need to travel to visit the “shopping
centre” of Salamander Bay. Which is not a bay, but a desolate
stretch of wasteland. But you'll travel there anyway, because your
children will have been so frightened by the herd of Gorgon Sues at
Coles, that they'll threaten to pull their own heads off and impale
themselves if you ever suggest shopping there again.
So you'll trek out to
“Sally Centre,” even though it's further away than the Voyager 2
probe, which left the solar system last year. But don't feel
convulsed with excitement, because this “shopping centre” has
only one level, is the size of a single car garage, except for the
other half of it, which is as far away as the moon, for no apparent
reason. And both halves of it, ie all six shops, are about as
inviting as a Welsh Coal mine after a collapse, or perhaps the lower
cirlces of Hell in Dante's Inferno.
These things aside,
Nelson Bay is lovely to visit- if you have your own transport. Just
don't bring it with you, because it will be firebombed immediately,
and you'll have to use the local bus service. Which last ran before
the time of the Pharaohs. So you'll wait at the bus stop until your
body mummifies, and is found by aliens, or a future civilisation of
humans, sometime after the sun turns nova. And that's not for another
five billion years.
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