Day 1 - Adelaide

At least Aussie customs are reasonably polite about it.  However, even when done politely, a suspicious examination by customs and immigration can be a bit of a pisser.

The problem was that Patrick and Mark, in their first encounter with the Australian authorities, had no idea of the answer to the two following questions - (i) where does David live?, and (ii) what is the hotel he has booked us into?  So this meant leaving an important part of the immigration form blank.  They attracted further suspicion by making an abortive air-side phone call to David to find this out - a call which failed for the obscure and technical reason that David had given them the wrong bloody number.  So the drugs section of customs smiled and rubbed their hands together as two suspiciously-sweaty guys with no forwarding address rolled through the barriers.....

Well, eventually after a few swabs and a lengthy grilling, they relented and decided that the botty-searching department need not be troubled.  It seems that the clincher was Mark waving his business card and citing his job title in its full tedious length - they decided civil servants were too boring to be drug smugglers.

And David picked us up in a car called Fred.  (Why Fred? Oh, look at the picture....)
 

Whence to the hotel in Adelaide.  The view from the balcony looks like this.

Or this.

Or this (when it's dark).

 So bits of Adelaide were explored, until a bar was found which did authentic Aussie food.  It came from Mexico, China, and Malaysia, but it was authentic Aussie fare because (i) it was more than even we could eat, and (ii) it came with chips.  We walked it off on the many beaches and piers in the area, pausing only to watch local teenagers jump off said piers to try to impress surrounding females. At this stage of the process, only David had registered to drive the car.  His driving was as good as ever.

Strange are the ways of the Humble.
A story we often discuss
is the skill he displayed
when in Adelaide
by backing up into a bus.