Alice Springs

I spend my last night in Melbourne at Coffee House Backpackers. A lovely old house full of miserable young boozers. They’re all still in bed at 11. It smells of death and decay. I buy myself a day ticket and set off once again on little-travelled paths through the whole of Melbourne. Telstra Dome, Docklands, shopping, Melbourne Museum.

The night in the Coffee House is as expected. Even after the twentieth call to her lover’s mobile phone in the dorm, a sufftoe refuses to accept that he doesn’t want her. At three o’clock she knocks on the door. I storm out with such angry words and face that she doesn’t even dare go through the open door afterwards.

In the morning, I set off for the first Formula 1 practice laps in nearby Albert Park. There’s no more traffic on the streets of Melbourne. I arrive at the airport 15 minutes before closing time. My flight with Tiger Airways is a lame ride: barrack gate, no food, no drink, no newspapers, no film. Nothing. I only manage the 15kg baggage allowance because I leave almost everything in St Kilda. A French woman pays $130 extra for a suitcase.

It’s more than 35 degrees in Alice Spings. Drug dogs go over every suitcase of every traveller without exception. The transfer to the Annies Place hostel is free. The heat makes my head boil. The receptionists appear to me to be a lesbian couple. A bet on this costs me a beer in the evening. The boss has the hat from Nine and a Half Weeks, the dress from Coyote Ugly and the rack of the Michelin Man’s wife. There are C-movie posters from the 50s in the loo with titles like “Naked women among Cannibals”. Weird.

Apart from that, Annie’s Place is a good place: friendly staff, a pool in the centre, cheap, slightly grubby dorms with AC. That evening we take the bus a few kilometres to a colony of rock kangaroos. Pretty much the cutest little animals I’ve ever seen. They eat out of my hand at sunset.

As usual before what I expect to be a difficult day, I crash with a nice Australian (white as cheese because he’s a property agent in Russia) in the bar attached to the hostel. Trying to fit in. The only Aboriginals I saw were all drunk out of their minds.