While in Perth...

Perth skyline | Barquing

I was warned about Perth.
I was told that it was boring and that there was nothing to do, and that I would be bored.
I quite like it, which I suppose makes me a contrarian of some sort. It’s not as exciting as Sydney, admittedly, nor is it as pretty: although as with most Australian cities, there are some lovely examples of colonial architecture, something I seem to be a complete sucker for. My photography collection from South America consisted mainly of volcanoes and mountain ranges, here I think I am going to be left with an awful lot of pictures of attractive wrought-iron railed balconies, who would have thought?
Such trimmings aside, the city is not the most attractive of beasts, the clean concrete-and-glass grid of streets which make up the central business district is particularly bland, while Northbridge, the backpacker friendly district, a tight bundle of strip-joints and coffee bars seems to derive much of its character from the fact that it’s a bit messier than the rest of the city, which is almost intimidatingly tidy.
Then there’s the waterfront.
I like the waterfront and given that a large portion of the city of Perth seems to be waterfront, I think that by a matter of percentages that must mean I like Perth.
The waterfront begins with the Swan river, which was recently reclassified as an estuary of the Pacific Ocean thanks to a law suit involving a major corporation who would have only been considered liable if the Swan river was actually a river. No, I don’t understand that either. The river is separated from the city by a green belt lined with palm trees and a cycle route which leads all the way to the mouth of the river, where the port city of Freemantle is situated.
The green stretches, public spaces one and all, are particularly inviting given the Mediterranean climate of the place. The blue water against blue sky backdrop is a distinct bonus, it has a calming effect on the whole scene. In fact this has to be the most laid back and relaxed urban environment I have ever been in.
It gets better, there’s Kings Park, four square kilometers of natural bush land and manicured gardens, slap-bang in the middle of the city, criss-crossed with cycle paths and footpaths if you fancy them, but not a keep of the grass sign in sight.
I took a ferry up to Freemantle, or at least I thought it was a ferry, it turned out to be a cruise, complete with – to quote the ticket stub I was given – an “entertaining commentary”, which turned out to be something of a trial given that the commentator clearly thought he was a lot funnier than he actually was.
He also seemed to be obsessed by the real estate prices of the area, which did appear to be admittedly rather high – the route along the Swan to Freemantle is lined with the sort of houses which make the monstrosity swooped over in the Dynasty opening credits look like a two-up two-down.
“If you have a camera and don’t take a picture of the next item,” the commentator barked into the tannoy, “Then you might as well throw your camera into the river because you clearly don’t know what it’s for.”
The next item was the most expensive property in Australasia, our guide told us. It was big, certainly, and possessed a certain Bond-Villain-hideout chic, but I and my camera remained unmoved.
I think the problem that some have with Perth is not the fact that it’s dull exactly, but the fact that they find it hard to relax there when they look at a map and realise just how far away it is from anything else on the entire planet. There isn’t the possibility of moving somewhere else so easily should it prove uninviting.
I think one of the reasons that it appeals to me is that the whole self-conscious backpacker “vibe” which I found rather irritating and phony in Sydney is entirely absent. The hostel that I am booked into is mercifully free of randy teenagers surreptitiously doing don’t-ask-what beneath the questionably laundered sheets.
Having said that, judging by the age group of my fellow travelers on the train up here, and indeed the ferry-cruise, I half expect to be the youngest person on this upcoming trek by some margin, and no, the idea of sharing a dormitory with a bunch of randy pensioners playing hide-the-denchers is no less appealing.
Still, as I said, look at that waterfront, and relax. Earplugs might be useful too, though.