Dear Trespass,
We arrived in Darwin after midnight, off a six-hour hell flight during which we both threw up. Dazed, we grabbed our bags and stepped out into the dark night.
The heat made us blink.
The shuttle bus meandered through town; ours was the last stop. It was a Saturday night and there were men everywhere. Only men. Drunk, pinging, iced-up, totally out of it. Red, ugly faces stared blankly at the bus, stumbling and shouting. It looked like they’d been drinking for a long time… too long; for days.
We walked quickly past them, to our hostel, with its prison-issue rooms – sparse, barred windows and signs telling us to lock up our possessions. We locked the door behind us and fell gratefully onto hard beds. It was just for one night.
There’s nothing to do in Darwin on a Sunday, we discovered. Maybe not any day.
We walked the esplanade, sweating in the humidity, went down to the beach, cruised through town and revived with a Boost Juice. That killed an hour. Back at the foreshore we set up for the day, with water and books and a picnic of bread and hummus. It was cool in the park, shady. A day of nothing passed – sitting up, chatting, lying down, reading. Watching people ride and jog along the esplanade, watching the backpackers wandering.
‘I never really pictured Darwin as a backpacker town,’ you said. ‘What do you think they do here?’
‘Chill out. Nothing. I dunno.’
‘I guess they do tours to Kakadu and shit. There are lots of adventure travel stores in town.’
But Darwin is expensive and we guessed they don’t stay for long.
An Indigenous man clutching an almost-empty bottle of sherry befriended us. He was in love with you, he said. He called out to you and his friends watched us, half-amused, half-apprehensive. They laughed when we did.
Our new friend made a cutting remark about my face, and I ducked my head in shame. It stopped being fun but I forced a smile.
We didn’t know where to look when the cops came and put him in the back of a divvy van. His friends cheered as he was driven away, and he rattled his cage happily. Their picnic dissolved then, everyone drifting away.
But we stayed.
The day passed slowly, hotly.
At five we reboarded the airport shuttle. For dinner, we ate at the hotel next to the airport. There’s a halfway decent Chinese restaurant there, we’d heard. The tables were out next to the pool, in a jungle of plants and bamboo. The locals were out dining too, dressed up, looking nice. The table next to us was celebrating a birthday. Despite high hopes, the food was average, the service slow.
You looked at me.
‘I couldn’t live here,’ I said.
On this, we agreed.
Love,
Lisa
Wow, as a Darwin local I can’t help but think they didn’t try very hard to see much of the place. I admit I’m not too happy to be living here (courtesy of hubby’s job), but I appreciate what the lifestyle has to offer, particularly for outdoor sports and no hassle daily clothing choices. Also, Darwin has grown up a lot in a few short years, not just development wise but society wise too. You can buy ladies’ evening wear all year round now, not just at Darwin Cup in August.
Some activities the writers could have indulged in: caught the ferry to Mandorah and visited the pub there when there’s a big band playing, concerts are on every weekend, sunset cruises on Darwin harbour, there’s Crocodylus Park and Crocosaurus Cove, plus an hour outside Darwin are Adelaide River (jumping croc cruises) and Litchfield Park (where you can swim under magnificient waterfalls), and loads more.
By the sound of it, they visited during the build-up which is the slow time of year due to the impending monsoonal rains (e.g. the Mindil Beach markets are not on and the national parks are closed due to swollen rivers), which makes the dry season the tourist and festival high season, when a year’s worth of living and outdoor concerts are squeezed into a few months.
Please send someone back up next May-Aug who’s willing or able to pay for a few attractions, like to see James Morrison under the stars for $10.
Thanks for the feedback, Cath. I would like to stress that Trespass didn’t send me to Darwin; I went there independently and wrote this postcard based on my experiences.
I have no doubt that if I’d had the time and money to scratch below the surface, I would have discovered many fantastic things about Darwin, however, on this visit I was just transiting through.
Unfortunately travel isn’t always insightful, inspiring or even interesting. My visit to Darwin, although dull, certainly didn’t put me off the idea of travelling there again in the future.
Thanks Lisa for the extra feedback – I was worried that you’d travelled specifically for a weekend away (though a long flight at horrible hours to do so from the east coast) and so were put off from the city as a travel destination. In my own travels, I haven’t been in the situation of overnight stays en route to another locale, but can imagine that such a timeframe would make it difficult to get out and about in any meaningful way. Hopefully you can make it back to Darwin during the dry season when there is loads on-including gorgeous weather!