Newcastle is a city of lads n lasses. Black and white stripes. Magpies and …ern, oh that’s actually the unlovely version in north-east England. I went to Newcastle, New South Wales, with friendly warnings ringing in my ears that it wasn’t on the normal tourist trail for a reason.
As previously advertised, I was there to visit Stuart and Brad in situ and arrived in glorious sunshine, but muttering under my breath about the inadequacies of satnav. Stuart’s hotel is located in an industrial and sleazy part of town, separated from the waterfront regeneration by a railway line that no one uses. He’s holding out high hopes for the eventual closure of the part of the line that seemingly goes nowhere and will connect his gaff to the swanky Leith-esque development on the other side of the tracks.
They live in a very odd building. Again, like a lot of places in Leith, it’s a redeveloped warehouse, though this one was used to store wool. The apartments are arranged around the inside of the outside of the building – I suspect that sounds strange – with an immense void in the interior providing access to each front door. Words can’t do justice to this odd arrangement, and with no photo it’s difficult to explain further. Needless to say, a criminal waste of space. Despite this, their place was lovely, enormous high ceilings and the sun streaming in.
We drank beer then headed off for a waterfront restaurant. A short stroll I was told, feeling my rumbling belly that signalled a hunger that can only come from missing out on so many vineyards (see previous post, this was the same day). A short stroll that kept going and going and going. See that strange pepper pot building, we’re going there I was told. Nobody walks about in Australia, mainly because everything is so far apart.
My relief that the restaurant hadn’t given our table away when we arrived late was immense. As was the fruity, oaked chardonnay that we managed to drink two bottles of. Thankfully, a taxi was called to ferry us back to the apartment block of unused space, whereupon the dull headache-ensuring bottle of red I’d acquired during the afternoon’s one visit to a vineyard was swiftly dealt with.
Our plan for the next day was to travel back down to Sydney and enjoy the festivities of a Friday night in the city of blinding lights. Stuart had to work until mid-afternoon, so Brad and I set out to see the sights of Newcastle.
Five minutes later we went to Stockton, a village across the water.
Actually, that’s unfair, we did stroll a little around town – and later went to see the police museum (because it was free) – and there is a pretty beach and some chunky waves. But that was it. Stockton was quite pretty too and a walk was had along the beach witnessing a kite surfer fail to get going.
There is a reason why Newcastle is not on the tourist trail. If you surf, it’s probably ok, but there just didn’t seem to be anything else there. Before anyone wonders, I’m not being unfair on the friends I came to see, they are well aware of this. However, this underlined for me that my trip wasn’t just about crossing a few places off my “to see” list and having a few once-in-a-lifetime experiences, it was about catching up with a whole load of friends in a (generally) stunning location. I don’t do normal holidays, can’t abide the idea of spending two weeks lying on the beach, and this trip was no exception.
