Mom and I went to Australia in 1991 to see my brother, Lael, who was early into what turned into about 10 years of working there. He was located in Melbourne, so that’s where we started. While Lael worked, Mom, Lael’s late wife, Sheila, and I flew to Alice Springs, with a side trip to Ayers Rock. After Alice, Sheila flew back to Melbourne and Mom and I flew to Adelaide – a city Mom had read about and wanted to see.
Way back in 1991 I blogged in a scrapbook, cutely titled “Bob and Bonnie’s Excellent Journey to Australia.” The following account is taken from that record:
In a guidebook, under the heading, Budget-Priced Accommodations, I learned about the Newmarket Hotel. It was called “absolutely charming, … one of our favorite low-price bargains in the entire country,” and described as a “hotel with genuine creaky character ... – it dates back about 130 years (at the time). The centerpiece is its wonderful, freestanding cedar spiral staircase swirling from the lobby to the upper floor.” All that and budget-priced, too! Couldn’t resist booking us there.
Well, we landed in late afternoon and boarded an airport bus taking passengers to various hotels. I got a little nervous when the driver didn’t know where the Newmarket was – I gave him the address. After dropping passengers off at various well-lit hotels, we proceeded down darkening streets and through shabbier surroundings. As we pulled up to our historic, budget-priced hotel, Mom said, “I think one night will be enough.”
We entered a dark, empty lobby. I roamed around, heard noise from the kitchen and then a cook came out to greet us. He led us up one flight of the circular staircase to the manager’s apartment. Happily, the mgr. was a young pleasant type, not Boris Karloff or Anthony Perkins, or we would have been out of there. He assured us that this was an operating hotel, checked us in, and invited us to dinner in the restaurant.
We climbed the circular staircase to our room, which was a little spooky – high ceiling; peeling, water-stained green velvet wallpaper, tacky furnishings. But, hey, the price was right. And, just look at that spiral staircase!
The restaurant was another eerie experience. Nobody was there, and this was the dinner hour, and nobody came in while we were there. Nevertheless, they had an elaborate salad bar laid out for dozens of people. We had a great meal and a nice visit with the manager and the only waitress. Manager said the plan was soon to convert the rooms to offices – we conjectured that Mom and I might be the last people to stay there, if you know what I mean.
I went along with Mom and decided that we would leave the next morning for Melbourne – without seeing any (more) of the city she wanted to see. I’m sure we slept fitfully. (In hindsight, the next morning we should have hied ourselves to the nearest Holiday Inn.) We were taking a bus/train combo trip to Melbourne – see some of the country that way -- and were able to move our departure up one day.
The manager had never heard of the bus/train thing, but arranged to have a cab pick us up at 630 am and take us to the bus station by 700 am. When I talked to the manager I didn't have the bus station address -- figuring that there must be only one station and that would be where we go. Overnight, though, I got an address for the station. The cab picks us up – it’s still dark – and I give the driver the address of our bus departure point. He does a doubletake, turns down an alley, and there we are at our bus pick up point – a sidewalk one short block from the hotel! By now you can see that my haphazard, ill-informed trip planning has been a long-time in developing. A few more passengers gathered, I walked back to get a picture of the Newmarket, the bus came, and we journeyed back to Melbourne.
I've thought occasionally of writing this story up for a travel magazine, but never did. Too late now, but thanks to the internet, it can now be told.
Hope to check out the Newmarket when the Indian Pacific stops in Adelaide. Will let you know what I find.
Cheers,
Rob
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