Vom Uluru nach Darwin

Ich kaufe einen 2ten Schlafsack nachdem mich der Frost 300 km vorm zentralen Touristenzentrum Australien's eines Morgens mit knackigem Beißen weckt. Zudem erhalte ich eine "Lizenz zum Trinken" und bin somit für jede Kältefront geweiht. Komm schon Frost dich beiß' ich gaehnend im Schlaf zurück !!! (Ich hatte bereits 2 Schlafsäcke, hab aber den 2ten in gesunder Tropenarroganz in Brisbane bei Ray gelassen.)

Der Uluru, der Kings Canyon und das Tal der Winde sind beeindruckende Naturschöpfungen und ich wander mir die Motorradstiefel wund, um alles in mich aufzusaugen. Es ist kalt, es ist harter Tobak und ich liebe es.

Ich muss auf dem Rückweg einige Tage in Alice Springs verbringen, um ein paar neue Puschen aufziehen zu lassen. Ein freundlich grüßender Biker mit einem Hakenkreuz auf dem Helm und 13 Aborigines umzingelt von Polizei sind die Highlights in Alice und so erwarte ich den Montag auf dem Zeltplatz mit meinen Minenarbeitern, da ich aus der kulturellen Seite von Alice Springs nicht so recht schlau werde.

Auf dem Weg nach Darwin halte ich in Daily Waters in einem von Iren gefuehrten Pub von dessen Decke BHs und String Tangas hängen. "Na das ist doch vielversprechend !?"
6 Bier, 2 Toasts und einige cooler live Gigs später kommt ein hiesiger Farmer auf die Bühne und reisst einen Schenkelklopfer nach dem nächsten. Ich bin bepisst vergnügt und lache mir die Teerteilchen aus der Lunge, bis er anfängt, von der Australischen Flagge zu singen und eine von Nationalstolz geprägte Leier beginnt die mir sauer aufstösst. Ursprung und Ursachen werden mal wieder gekonnt ausgelassen und... naja wollen wir den politischen Teil mal lassen.... Ich veralsse das Parkett und schiesse am naechsten Tag nach Darwin.

grotesque situations - or - racism in Australia

Don't you expect an Aborigini at the Uluru to show you around and tell you about their culture? Well, I kind of did. Everywhere I go around the Uluru, the Entry, the Information Centre, the Art Shop I see European people selling aboriginal culture to their kind. Signs prohibit to take pictures, since this is a sacred site of the Uluru. Who setup those signs ? A video is shown in the Information Centre moderated by a descendant of Australian convicts. I can't get rid of the feeling to look at a culture that still exists but doesn't - at one of their most sacred places. This is just wrong. I feel like a troublemaker, like someone who interferes with a culture that's supposed to be right here but can't any more since their place - ones sacred -is now disturbed by Europeanised tourism. Well and I must talk, being here myself and "living the dream". It's grotesque and I can't really figure out what I shall make out of it. It feels like the Aborigines are reduced to some kind of Animal "our kind" can look at from a perspective which is save and sound. Just make sure the money flows. But does their culture still exist ?

Coming down from Stuart Highway I meet a lot of Aborigines. Shopping in Tennant Creek scares the shit out of me. Heaps of Aborigines hang around the Shopping Centre smelling like alcohol, sweat and piss. I take all my valuables with me, hurry to get my shopping done and get the hell out of that place. Raised in East Germany means to be reminded of what the Germans did to anyone who wasn't as blue eyed and white coloured as Captain America. "We are all the same." I am fighting with a little racist coming up in me who keeps banging on my "common sense" which was ironed into my brain since I was able to speak. But it's getting worse.

At a camp site close to "Alice" I get to listen to Bon Jovi, Brian Adams and David Hasselhoff. It sounds like a teeny party about 10 years ago. But it's not. Aborigines have a drinking celebration at their side of the pub. YES right. THEIR side ! The pub is divided into two areas. Black people and white people. Martin Luther King once had a dream. Keep dreaming buddy. I feel like being in the United States around 1780. This is just wrong. The Aborigines are pissed by 6pm and shout and scream at each other right next to my camp site. Buying some water at the shop is scary again, since the "black side" of the fence has closed their alcohol consumption area and people are standing outside and perform their yelling and shouting.

I remember the native Australians in Sydney playing the didgeridoo at Circular Cay accompanied by some techno beats. I liked those fellows. I am not sure about the people living in the outback though.

Crispy cold beauty - The Outback

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It's beautiful and cold. Sitting here and can hardly type a word... 0 degrees tonight. May the fire god be with me. Yesterday I got fed by Sydney Uni, right now I got offered a hot chocolate... do I look that skinny, poor and exhausted already ?

Some pics: