The Idea behind this trip wanted to take in some amount of spontineity while ensuring that I went somewhere my wife and daughter would have no particular interest in. So the idea was to fly to Mildura, hire a care and go north. Work out the detail later.
Prep was simple. Three spare pairs of underpants & socks, two tee shirts, MP3 player, laptop for journal. Books. Only seem to have factual ones unread on shelf….might be a bit dry for the trip reading one about Pakistani politics post 9/11.
Having outback NSW as a destination seemed good also because there are no wineries there.
Trip to airport, airport hundrum and the flight were okay. The land around Mildura looked flat and uninteresting. Small airport. Had a hire a car there, and I couldn’t help thinking I didn’t get the best deal from Hertz – with hindsight the guys was trying it on..
The great Italian write Dante in his epic work, Inferno, imagined seven levels of Hell. In my case I’ve kept a league table of the towns I’d least like to end up in to live life – I called it the Rotherham Scale. Instead of going 1 to 10, it goes 1 to Rotherham. It must be said I’d not actively maintained this list since leaving the UK. Rotherham is clearly top, nut UK towns Rochdale and Blackburn come quite high up. I’d never considered Aussie town on this less than illustrious scale. Corryong on the border of Victoria and NSW was a possibility that crossed my mind while on holiday in 2002. No street lights, the TVs get no reception, everything except for the church on one grim pub one at night.
And of course I’ve written this because Mildura has joined the list. My Facebook status that night said “Mildura exists, why?”. The city is in a grid pattern with streets in one direction the names of fruits. The people of Mildura couldn’t think of anything after that so all the streets running perpendicular to the fuity ones are called Eighth Street’, ‘Ninth Street’ etc.. These streets are wide. The CBS is barely that. And besides the city is in awe of Stefano’s – one of Victoria’s best eateries by repute. So Mildura has one thing to shout about – and boy does it go on, and on, and on about it. Stefano this, Stefano that. It is feintly ironic that most Mildurans can’t afford to eat their at a fixed price $170 per head before drink. I stood outside it for a while. It amidst a 100 meter strip of eateries. Not many of interest.
Mildura high street - peak Saturday. Dead
The people at tourist information gave me a look. Reminded me of the one from the Hertz guy. “You’re not local” was the feeling. “Don’t have to be friendly”. Same thing happened at the motel reception. There’s an attitude thing goin on here, and I don’t like it. A bit offish. The motel made a thing of their prices on the outside, but it transpired they were low season prices.
So I went for a swim in the most chlorinated pool I’ve been in for while. Went to see Tron (very average) at the movies stopping off at a cheap Asian take-away restaurant where I ate a yuimmy chicken BBQ plum sauce noodles while watching Australia tear up England’s second inning in the The Ashes third test. Got to bed at midnight.
I simply can’t think of any reason why somebody would want to live in Mildura. It lives on gaining glory by association with one man, the chef at Stephano’s. Older signs allude to a similar attempt to gain by association from a now past era – Sunraisia – okay, the name of the region, but evidently an attitude from a perceived time of fruit growing pride.
The place simply looks devoid of anything.
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