Friday morning....yay(a big one at that), with the sun still hiding it's wet and chilly. Weatherman who is a small screen celebrity himself was assurance personified when he predicted the worse for the weekend - heavy rains and bloody what not. A perfect spoiler for a friday morning....which would have been the case if I was getting myself ready to be on the HOT office desk. Surprise surprise...this is not another of those typical fridays and I am not old enough to pen down another uninspiring service story.
Sydney landscape is running past in a jiff on both sides....and off we go. Yes, I am in a train that's heading to 'Dubbo'. It's a long weekend - public holidays are either on fridays or mondays in this part of the world (HALLELUJAH) stretching the weekend pleasures. This time its APEC meeting in Sydney that got translated into a public holiday for us.
In fact its 4 of us who decided its time to get away from a mad sydney weekend. Prashanth John Prabhaker a.k.a John/Pappan to sydneysiders, Balaji Gnaneshwar - he knew enlightenment which he was in search of is waiting for him at Dubbo, Ranjit Rajan who has all the makings of the notorious indian don chota rajan and the unsuspecting poor soul of yours truly completed the tally.
OK probably now its the time for a bit of background on Dubbo. Dubbo is the entry point to the untamed frontier - courtesy Australian Tourism literature - the world of aborigins, people who belong here and like in any other english settlements they were driven off their homes by english convicts. The difference here lies in the fact that them being convicts were given full licence by historians to go berserk.
11.00 am, 'DUBBO' the signboard in the deserted platform confirms I am in the right place. I could see a pair of long legs with 'Australian made' work boots that stretches out of the station office. A leather cowboy hat covered the identity of the person from the curious visitor. But hey I can't let him enjoy his early siesta....
"Excuse me.....hmmm" that's me hesitating on hearing a growl in reply.
Off he go, the big frame of a bearded giant jumped on his feet with a wide grin. ''G'dayyy mate" , the giant.
"Sorry,.... but I wanted to go to YHA. Could you please help me." The typical circumspect Indian in me melts with all the courtesy in the world.
At that time I didn't know that it would be the longest sentence that I will be allowed to complete for a while. From then on it was all one-way traffic with the giant stepping into the role of a historian/guide/assistant all in one. The next thing, I was stepping out of the cab in front of an old mansion, the green writing in front of which said YHA. All the frames in between were filled with jokes and big laughs of the Giant. A good indication as to what to expect in Dubbo.
We checked the sign board many a times to ensure that the old cottage in front of us was surely the one christened Youth Hostel Australia. The door bell was in no mood to announce our arrival and after a few unanswered knocks we pushed open the giant door and entered darkness. It was a narrow passageway which led us to a dimly lit room that resembled a reception. The eerie silence, dimmed yellow light, a stuffed deer on the wall - the motel reception in the Hitchcock flick Psycho came rushing inside me.
An old lady in her early sixties appeared from nowhere - Sally. To our relief she was a very pleasant lady unaffected by the depressing building. She had a loud laugh that brushed aside the last of the doubts that we had about the hostel. In the next couple of days she was going to be our guide, driver and a fantastic host.
After depositing our light backpacks in our large dorm room we started our Dubbo adventure eating place - this time in search for an eating place. It was 3.30pm and the only item that lingered in our tummy was the dry sandwiches that we had from the train. Sally started on a long lecture comparing Spain with Dubbo because of the long afternoon siesta that people are so fond of. We also needed some sleep/rest but first we wanted something to eat.
We roamed around counting one closed shutter after another and covered almost half the shops in the town. Thats when we saw the all too familiar pink piggy sign board. Yes, there was a Hogsbreath Restaurant and in response to the prayers of four starving souls it was open.
Hogsbreath is an aussie born and grown restaurant chain and they are known for developing and specialising in prime rib steak - and many other steak dishes that is unmatchable. They have a strong presence in many a country towns but a glaring absence or invisibility in the city. Without further ado we settled on our seats with a few beers and placed our orders for some killer steaks.
The waiter who was taking orders from the next table was staring at us every now and then. This guy was Indian so we brushed aside the intimidating stares. The nosey nature and the popular stare typical to indians are usually at full display in Australia too.
Poulose - the name badge on the waiter stuck me from nowhere. It was the achayan curiosity from Trichur that was gauging us earlier. After the initial intros we were all busy exchanging sydney news to him in return to some Dubbo insights. Poulochan helped us jot down a rough POA for the next couple of days. We marked the names of the happening pubs in our list in bold.
Our nap lasted only 40 minutes. There was a tennis court across the street and we were all swinging when we knew it was free to hire the court - in Sydney we were happily paying $15/hr for a game of tennis. A few games, bucket loads of sweat and some long hot showers later we are ready to hit the pubs. Australian pubs are close to old kerala chayakkadas. Its the meeting place for young and old and its even more personal and intimate in country towns like Dubbo where everybody knows one another.
We visited 3 different pubs starting from a high end wine drinking joint where people listened to the local band patiently. We didnt last their long as the crowd were completely european mostly in their middle ages.
Next stop was a local pub with poker machines in plenty. Poker machines are the pleasure chest of blue collar workers and retirees. People sit around sipping beers and discussing footy games. There are no secret talks in these places everyone speaks out loud to all the others. I really think thats one of the conditions of entry to one of these places. We got a few excited aussie blokes for company - typical outback dundees - who shared a few stories. A number of jokes went over our heads but we more than matched them in their loud laughs. We were all ears as they seemed to speak to us in a language other than english. It needs a bit getting used to to follow these blokes.
The third of our stop for the night was a night club with loud music and equally loud and dressed up kids. Boys went around flashing their chiseled beefiness whilst girls roamed around parading a lot of skin. The intentions were more or less the same - some drinks, flesh and a lot of pleasure.
This was where we met David. One of the first aboriginal person that I spoke at length after coming to Australia. Like the rest of the Dubboites he was a loud and happy little fellow. He was excited in attracting 4 pairs of ears from Sydney and was all too happy listing all the adventures that he completed during his eventful short term existence.
From the time we left our rooms for the night out we have been hearing people asking "out for spadgers?". We knew spadger was a bird and we guessed the meaning of their questions - we were more or less correct. Spadger colloquially meant female companion for the the night and from then on we saw most of the people roaming around were hunting for spadgers. Dave summed it up for us "Hey guys, I am over it. I get spadgered day in and day out I am so tired." He wanted to be a guide to us in case we wanted to spadger. We were very courteous when we said "Thank you. But no thank you." We hit the bed quite late but were fully aware that there was only a few hours for us to sleep. Its exploration Taronga National Park Zoo the first thing in the morning.
Sydney landscape is running past in a jiff on both sides....and off we go. Yes, I am in a train that's heading to 'Dubbo'. It's a long weekend - public holidays are either on fridays or mondays in this part of the world (HALLELUJAH) stretching the weekend pleasures. This time its APEC meeting in Sydney that got translated into a public holiday for us.
In fact its 4 of us who decided its time to get away from a mad sydney weekend. Prashanth John Prabhaker a.k.a John/Pappan to sydneysiders, Balaji Gnaneshwar - he knew enlightenment which he was in search of is waiting for him at Dubbo, Ranjit Rajan who has all the makings of the notorious indian don chota rajan and the unsuspecting poor soul of yours truly completed the tally.
OK probably now its the time for a bit of background on Dubbo. Dubbo is the entry point to the untamed frontier - courtesy Australian Tourism literature - the world of aborigins, people who belong here and like in any other english settlements they were driven off their homes by english convicts. The difference here lies in the fact that them being convicts were given full licence by historians to go berserk.
11.00 am, 'DUBBO' the signboard in the deserted platform confirms I am in the right place. I could see a pair of long legs with 'Australian made' work boots that stretches out of the station office. A leather cowboy hat covered the identity of the person from the curious visitor. But hey I can't let him enjoy his early siesta....
"Excuse me.....hmmm" that's me hesitating on hearing a growl in reply.
Off he go, the big frame of a bearded giant jumped on his feet with a wide grin. ''G'dayyy mate" , the giant.
"Sorry,.... but I wanted to go to YHA. Could you please help me." The typical circumspect Indian in me melts with all the courtesy in the world.
At that time I didn't know that it would be the longest sentence that I will be allowed to complete for a while. From then on it was all one-way traffic with the giant stepping into the role of a historian/guide/assistant all in one. The next thing, I was stepping out of the cab in front of an old mansion, the green writing in front of which said YHA. All the frames in between were filled with jokes and big laughs of the Giant. A good indication as to what to expect in Dubbo.
We checked the sign board many a times to ensure that the old cottage in front of us was surely the one christened Youth Hostel Australia. The door bell was in no mood to announce our arrival and after a few unanswered knocks we pushed open the giant door and entered darkness. It was a narrow passageway which led us to a dimly lit room that resembled a reception. The eerie silence, dimmed yellow light, a stuffed deer on the wall - the motel reception in the Hitchcock flick Psycho came rushing inside me.
An old lady in her early sixties appeared from nowhere - Sally. To our relief she was a very pleasant lady unaffected by the depressing building. She had a loud laugh that brushed aside the last of the doubts that we had about the hostel. In the next couple of days she was going to be our guide, driver and a fantastic host.
After depositing our light backpacks in our large dorm room we started our Dubbo adventure eating place - this time in search for an eating place. It was 3.30pm and the only item that lingered in our tummy was the dry sandwiches that we had from the train. Sally started on a long lecture comparing Spain with Dubbo because of the long afternoon siesta that people are so fond of. We also needed some sleep/rest but first we wanted something to eat.
We roamed around counting one closed shutter after another and covered almost half the shops in the town. Thats when we saw the all too familiar pink piggy sign board. Yes, there was a Hogsbreath Restaurant and in response to the prayers of four starving souls it was open.
Hogsbreath is an aussie born and grown restaurant chain and they are known for developing and specialising in prime rib steak - and many other steak dishes that is unmatchable. They have a strong presence in many a country towns but a glaring absence or invisibility in the city. Without further ado we settled on our seats with a few beers and placed our orders for some killer steaks.
Poulose - the name badge on the waiter stuck me from nowhere. It was the achayan curiosity from Trichur that was gauging us earlier. After the initial intros we were all busy exchanging sydney news to him in return to some Dubbo insights. Poulochan helped us jot down a rough POA for the next couple of days. We marked the names of the happening pubs in our list in bold.
Our nap lasted only 40 minutes. There was a tennis court across the street and we were all swinging when we knew it was free to hire the court - in Sydney we were happily paying $15/hr for a game of tennis. A few games, bucket loads of sweat and some long hot showers later we are ready to hit the pubs. Australian pubs are close to old kerala chayakkadas. Its the meeting place for young and old and its even more personal and intimate in country towns like Dubbo where everybody knows one another.
We visited 3 different pubs starting from a high end wine drinking joint where people listened to the local band patiently. We didnt last their long as the crowd were completely european mostly in their middle ages.
Next stop was a local pub with poker machines in plenty. Poker machines are the pleasure chest of blue collar workers and retirees. People sit around sipping beers and discussing footy games. There are no secret talks in these places everyone speaks out loud to all the others. I really think thats one of the conditions of entry to one of these places. We got a few excited aussie blokes for company - typical outback dundees - who shared a few stories. A number of jokes went over our heads but we more than matched them in their loud laughs. We were all ears as they seemed to speak to us in a language other than english. It needs a bit getting used to to follow these blokes.
The third of our stop for the night was a night club with loud music and equally loud and dressed up kids. Boys went around flashing their chiseled beefiness whilst girls roamed around parading a lot of skin. The intentions were more or less the same - some drinks, flesh and a lot of pleasure.
This was where we met David. One of the first aboriginal person that I spoke at length after coming to Australia. Like the rest of the Dubboites he was a loud and happy little fellow. He was excited in attracting 4 pairs of ears from Sydney and was all too happy listing all the adventures that he completed during his eventful short term existence.
From the time we left our rooms for the night out we have been hearing people asking "out for spadgers?". We knew spadger was a bird and we guessed the meaning of their questions - we were more or less correct. Spadger colloquially meant female companion for the the night and from then on we saw most of the people roaming around were hunting for spadgers. Dave summed it up for us "Hey guys, I am over it. I get spadgered day in and day out I am so tired." He wanted to be a guide to us in case we wanted to spadger. We were very courteous when we said "Thank you. But no thank you." We hit the bed quite late but were fully aware that there was only a few hours for us to sleep. Its exploration Taronga National Park Zoo the first thing in the morning.
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