Ahh, Darwin. No other mainland capital is more conducive to just going "fuckit, I'll sleep in a park tonight". Not that Hobart is more conducive to that (necessarily), but that just seemed like the right way to put it. If you're a hobo, go to Darwin. That's what I'm getting at.

Thanks to the share-housing arrangement whereby the air force gets to use Darwin Airport for most of the daytime all the flights in and out, at least from/to the eastern states, arrive/leave between 1 and 2 am. Which realistically means you won't be in the city before 2 on your day of arrival, so why pay cash money to lie on a matress for a few hours when you can lie on the grass. I did. Sure it's illegal to "camp" in most parks, but I'd like to see someone officially fined for "lying down in the dark", and since the night time temperature in Darwin, especially on the cusp of The Wet, bears a striking resemblance to the day time temperature it's not as if it's any less comfortable being slightly clammy under a tree than being slightly clammy under a clicking fan. Plus if you chose a park near the beach (and most of them are) you can go for an early morning swim straightaway!

And that's where the problems begin... Sure, box jellyfish can be lethal and, failing that, so painful you wish they were lethal. Sure even the dreaded irukanji jellyfish is not undeard of in Darwin waters (size of a postage stamp, capable of killing you through a wetsuit...) And sure, although the wet season is the danger time, "stings have been recorded at all times of year". And every so often. Crocodiles. But, even knowing all this, I've never had a problem with swimming in the sea in Darwin. Or at least I didn't until I waded out on the first morning, fresh out of Nature's Own Hostel, and looked down to see either a big irukanji or small darwin harbour jellyfish (just recently identified as a separate species!), about the size of a golfball doing a very poor job of swimming away from my leg. I watched it for a while, fascinated by how brightly the tentacles at the 4 corners of its "box" body were flourescing in the sunlight and waiting hopefully for it to manage to put more than 20cm between us. After a while it just gave up, which i took as a cue to gtfo of the water.

So eventually i found a hotel room for Not Too Much, quite near the city, in fact i think technically on the edge of it, and set about wandering semi-aimlessly through the streets, silently bemoaning the changes for the worse that I found, like the cafe that no longer served Eggs Florentine that weren't Eggs Florentine, but that i liked and the pub accross the street, which the owner seemed to have decided should now pretend to be in Darlinghurst, but not expecting to stay long. I even managed to actually get forced out of the Irish pub at midday by four already-pissed backpackers who wanted my table and decided this meant they should sit at it and glower at me. At least someone had decided to use the boards over the windows of the abandoned Woolworths as an impromptu art gallery, which was a small improvement over what it was like in April...

In short, I was disappointed throughout much of my stay in Darwin. Hiring a scooter and visiting the racetrack where the combata... er... "competitors" (don't give me that look, Michigan, you know what I mean...) in the World Solar Challenge were proving yet again that money beats ingenuity and a bit of misplaced bravado can go a long way was enjoyable, but fleeting.

It made me quite sad how keen I was to get back to Sydney, and i suppose watching a depressing Jodie Foster movie to help pass the time until I could cab it to the airport didn't help (although the film was surprisingly good)...