We spent their first weekend exploring Sydney, and then they headed up the coast for a few days. Blake and I went to meet them the following Friday night in the Blue Mountains. They had driven straight there, so we were taking the train to Katoomba. After a couple connections, we boarded the Blue Mountain line, and it was refreshingly different than the typical CityRail trains. It felt like it had been designed in the 70s, but at least it was roomier and more luxurious, if you dare to call it that, than the normal trains. On the other hand, it was packed, and Blake and I were forced to sit at opposite ends of the train. We were lucky to find seats at all. But hey, it was only a two hour ride. On top of that, I found myself on the the worst part of the train, the section at the back of the car where the seats face each other. Whoever designed this feature was obviously unaware of the concept of personal space. Aside from rubbing knees, you could literally high five your new neighbor without even leaning forward. The 60 some year old lady seated across from me seemed fairly normal, except for the fact that she had clearly just cleaned out the entire inventory at a store named something like Big and Tacky Jewelery Warehouse and then decided to wear all of it on the train ride home. Without Blake to talk to, and certainly without any chance of socializing with my new neighbor, I found my mind wondering into those realms only brought on by extreme boredom. How do they manage to keep the carpet on this train clean, I remember thinking. It must be that people coming to and from the Blue Mountains don't litter as much as the city folk, I thought. It was at this moment, that my useless train of thought was disrupted by the sound of 47 jangling bracelets. Quickly and swiftly, although not as subtle as she would have liked, the lady across from me took the core of her recently devoured apple and tossed it behind her seat. She then begin to clean her hands by frantically licking her fingers. Not a moment too soon, the train ride took a turn for the better as two seats opened up. I quickly escaped the littering grandma and spent the rest of the ride in peace next to Blake.
As the train doors opened in Katoomba, our destination, it was immediately apparent that it was winter in the mountains. Not that 60 degree kind of winter you find in Sydney, but real, actual winter. Despite the temperature, I was quickly warmed by that feeling you get when you find yourself in a cozy mountain town on a cold day. We had been to Katoomba months earlier when it was warm and beautiful, but I liked it much better on this occasion. There is something about the cold weather that brings out the charm of a place like Katoomba. After settling into our home for the night, we found Brad and Mae and headed back towards the heart of town for the evening. According to the locals, our best bet was the Old City Bank Bar & brasserie next to the historic Carrington Hotel. We were not disappointed. The atmosphere was great, the beer was cold, and the Kangaroo sandwich was delicious. Shortly after dinner, the sounds of an accordion, a stand-up bass, and an acoustic guitar began emanating from the bar downstairs. The band had an odd but upbeat polka/spanish style music, and it was fantastic. The lively crowd was highly entertained, and we were no exception. Leaving the bar, we decided to take a quick walk through the Carrington Hotel. Perched on top of a hill, the hotel towers over the heart of Katoomba, and its grandeur is impressive to say the least.
Opened in 1882, it was once considered the premier tourist resort in the Southern Hemisphere. And for good reason. As we stepped inside, we were greeted with a well preserved 19th century elegance you would expect to see at the Biltmore. Guests were spread throughout the maze-like first floor in rooms appropriately labeled the lounge, the billiard room, the ball room, the library, the dining room, etc. Behind every door we opened, I was certain we would find Colonel Mustard with a Candlestick. If the board game Clue was not inspired by a visit to this very hotel, I would be shocked. The next morning we went for coffee in the quaint nearby village of Leura and visited Echo Point, a lookout for viewing the Three Sisters and the vast wooded canyon below. From there the road trip began. Heading west we made our way through Lithgow and Bathhurst before taking a slight detour to the historic town of Carcoar. Turning down the main road was like stepping into the late 1800s. And not into one of those kitchy "historic" towns that has a bunch of recreated old buildings filled with candy & souvenir shops and other forms of tourist bait. This was the real thing. Or as close to it as I have seen. There was a classic Aussie Hotel, a General Store, a Post Office, and by far my favorite, a Toy Museum that was closed due to, get this, flatulence. I kid you not. I can't make that kind of stuff of. There in the window, clearly posted for all to read - not that anyone was around - was a sign prominently stating the reason for closure. After some long and serious laughter we walked down the road to see if we could find anywhere open for lunch. To our surprise we found a great gourmet restaurant in this quiet little town. After a satisfying meal, we headed up the hill to the train station hovering above the village. The antiquated station was desolate, an old sign revealed the last train had rolled through in 2005, and it now served as a simple reminder of busier times gone by. Surprisingly, there was no graffiti or broken glass or anything else you would expect to find at an abandoned train stop. Instead, the station was well maintained and even appeared to have a fresh coat of paint. It was as if the locals had refused to give up hope that another train might one day roll through Carcoar.
As we continued our journey through the remote countryside that lies west of the Blue Mountains, we passed through endless farmland occasionally interrupted by small villages.
At around two in the afternoon we came to the only commercial building for miles, the local "hotel." A faded Foster's Lager mural on the side of the dilapidated building compelled us to make a pit stop. 
We ordered a cold beer and grabbed a table outside close enough to eavesdrop on a handful of weathered locals having an early drink. After soaking up the culture for awhile, we continued down the road towards Young. Every so often we would pass another "hotel" in the middle of nowhere, and I couldn't help but be awed by the fact that no matter how far you venture away from civilization in this vast country, you will never be far from the local pub. We reached Young before dark and found a place on Main St. to stay for the night. Young is similar to most small towns in Australia in that it has a wide main street lined with shops, hotels and angled parking. Small towns in Australia have the feel of stepping back into the 60's, or at least what I imagine the 60's to be like. The towns are filled with one family-owned specialty shop after another, and there are not nearly as many national and global chains everywhere. As Bill Bryson said in his book about Australia, Young is the kind of place where you drive into town when you need something instead of out of it. It's a very refreshing trend, and the result is that each small town has it's own character. I can't tell you how nice it is when you don't have to drive to the outskirts of town and spend your day shopping at a big metal warehouse surrounded by a huge parking lot. Even when you do find a national or global chain in a small town (or even Sydney for that matter) it is usually blended in with the local shops. Parking is always underneath or behind the building and the result is that the heart of town maintains its character and remains a walkable community. That being said, Australian towns are in danger of losing what makes them so charming. At the end of Main St. in Young, for example, is a new Big W (the Australian version of Wal-Mart) and a new Woolworths grocery that closely resemble the big-box stores so commonly seen in the States. I hope for Australia's sake, that the country resists the invasion of this type of development which will ruin the character of towns and eliminate Mom-and-Pop stores.
That night, we had some good Thai food for dinner and then headed to one of Young's many pubs for a drink. We ended up at a local hang-out, and it didn't take long to realize that they subscribed to the old way of doing things. The bartender gave us a long winded description of the proper way to pour a beer without wasting a single drop. She explained that once a customer was down to the last mouthful of beer, it was expected that the bartender would automatically bring another one over. If you were done for the night, she explained, you were to turn your glass on it side. She told us about classic Australian bands, such as Cold Chisel and Jimmy Barnes, and even had the locals play a couple of tunes for us on the jukebox. One friendly local came up and began telling us all about Young, and I suddenly realized that this was the Australia I had been looking for. We had found the laid back, friendly, old-school culture we had envisioned Australia to have. We had found the "real Australia."
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