Steve's parents live in one of the southern hemisphere's biggest retirement villages - a constantly renewed massive complex that fills a suburb. The village has some guest suites, so we hired one for a few days. Now, I know you're thinking that these two really know how to have an action packed time in Perth, staying at a retirement village, but I'm not kidding, this place was better than most hotels I've stayed at (especially New York hotels, eck). Clean, quiet, huge, comfortable and handy to everything. And cheap. Sorry, I have Scottish blood.
Perth is what you expect, too. Alarmingly gorgeous from many angles, but with a really marked divide between ostentatiously rich and fibro-hut poor. This divide gives it a slightly menacing air, like violence is expected. There's a plaque at Fremantle quoting the master of a vessel visiting in the 1800's, who describes Fremantle as the filthiest dive he'd seen on all the high seas. Makes you feel proud to be Australian, no?
Alarmingly gorgeous city obscured by eyesore named Dave.
We did a lap of Perth to visit every address Steve lived at bar one (I think), took Shirl and Len to Fremantle for the day, swam at Floreat Beach (how can a beach be that perfect?), ate at several dodgy places and saw the neighborhoods where Mum used to hang out, which are now as snotty as you can get. (She says they weren't snotty in the 50's.......she says.)
Wonderful Shirl and Len. They've been married so long that they even blink at the same time.
In the middle of my interpretive dance routine at Freo Market. Note the crowd taking no notice. Jaded, I say.
LMAO. Hilariously funny. I hereby handover creative control of MY blog, to you.
ReplyDeleteKathryn
PS God I miss laughing with you!