Darwin

Almost half of the population of the Northern Territory – an area much bigger than South Africa – live in Darwin and it’s still barely big enough to be called a city. Flying over Darwin is a visual treat: a low rise city heavily smattered with lush green parks, surrounded by strange and beautiful unreflective turquoise blue water which is occasionally muddied by the reddish earth which dominates the land. A river with fat sluggish tributaries snakes towards the ocean and seems to engorge the city, which is left teetering on a flimsy peninsular.

On the ground the air is hot and thick with moisture and the place appears to have been deserted in a prior decade. Darwin’s isolation, I think, allows it to lag behind other parts of Australia in social norms and for the first time since SE Asia I was allowed to smoke inside.

After a night on the sauce with various people who I’ll never see again I had a day to look around Darwin.

Scenic Darwin.

The above is plaque commemorating Ludwig Leichhardt’s 1844 journey which was approximate to the trip I had just taken on Jetstar but took a bit longer.

It took me ages to find a way to the beaches that I had seen from the plane and in a deserted park on an abortive route I met a lizard who seemed fixated on something high up in a tree. I felt as if I had interrupted some kind of ritual.

I eventually found a pebbly beach beyond the Darwin Harbour. Usually Australian beaches have a large sign detailing a list of petty prohibitions but Darwin beaches have small signs with one important warning: Don’t fucking swim.

Still, it was pretty to explore the bay.