Nimbin and the Candle Factory

Question… What’s the first sign of a good old fashioned candle factory?

Google maps street view

We had found our way back into New South Wales (remember to change all clocks) again and had stumbled upon the sleepy but somewhat defiant town of Nimbin, rumoured to be the stoner’s capital of Australia. And while there, I was half expecting visions of Amsterdam and clouds of acrid smoke and the pungent aroma of a quarter of best farmed “weeds” but that was simply not the case.

Nimbin is a small township that seems to have publicly gotten away with sticking up its fingers at authority. And although there are strong ties to a drug related culture and rastafarianism, there were only ever signs of association and not actual use of illegal substances. You see, it’s a kind of schoolboy defiance where we can all pretend to be a part of it without actually taking part and to a Brit on tour over here, the single road township with a fork at one end carries the distinct feel of a 'smutty postcards' Blackpool back home if not a little smaller.

For a better look round Nimbin, click here

Complete with it's shops full of tat, bars and gaming machines, the place has a real feel of naughtiness but that soon dissipates as you start looking out for real criminals. And the only thing that shatters the whole illusion, is the huge police station at the end of the road there suggesting we are all being good after all.

Nevertheless we were at Nimbin and had to therefore make the most of it by fully exploring the shops, the museum, the huge Nimbin Hotel for lunch, and finally the Nimbin Candle Factory just over the Cullen bridge (a Twilight reference to keep Jodie happy).

The candle factory is situated in what was an old butter factory (where they put on a fair old spread for lunch no doubt) just north of Nimbin and today the building seems to be shared with a theatre company of some sorts (what the hell kind of actors do they use in a "bush theatre"?) but they were closed so we couldn't make further comment on that. But it is here that they (the candle factory) still make candles using only the finest edible grade waxes (for wrapping cheeses), food colourings and traditional methods and while doing so, were happy to take time out to show us around and teach us how things got done there, explaining the dipping processes, the shaping of candles, the smoothing of candles (with an electric iron no less), and how they use candle offcuts to produce their larger multicoloured block candles.

Click here for the Candle factory album

It’s not a huge place by any means that they operate from, and it is hardly geared up for today's mega-orders for supermarkets either, but it is however a quietly successful and seemingly thriving cottage industry with a useful product (yes it seems Australia still has power outages), where the friendly and approachable manner of the staff play a huge part in gaining repeat business no doubt from all over the world as tourists like me continue to stray through their doors.


And so, in answer to the question posed at the start of this posting, what’s the first sign of a good old fashioned candle factory? Well the answer just hit us in the face when we got there. Maybe it says the same to you…

Or maybe you just had to be there...

Who wants to be a milliner?

By all accounts, the hat is having a wonderful time over here (as indeed am I) and is loving being adorned with all kinds of souvenir type sparkly new shineys. 

Problem is, is how the hell do we get it back to England? Maybe I should go move to Arizona with my best friend Mark...

Needs more badges !!

It's life Jim...

Over the new year period, it appears I might have harped on a little too much about Australia’s lack of animals because our whole schedule was put on hold, turned upside down, thrown around a little and completely re written to include a visit to Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary about 50 minutes away from Dragonfly Mansions at an average speed of circa 120 Km per hour (bizzies allowing).

Click here for the full day out at the zoo album
And apologies for the old geezer pics.. I thought he was Crocodile Dundee

We arrived there early enough to find parking (not bad for a public holiday) and proceeded to the outside café to await coffee in hand the other members making up our party for the day who included Patricia (Youth development officer from cadets) and her two boys Sean and Andrew (Great Name there) from the night before (we spent the night before with them at theirs for New year’s Day. Hence my absence from proper blog content lately).

And then there was another couple, Shari-lee and Keith who are adult leaders from another cadet unit (yes cadets again). And then there was Paul another adult leader. Probably the tenth Paul I have met over here and pretty much like all the other Pauls, he was good company although for one reason or another, I couldn’t remember who, what or why he was here, but he was, so we happily put up with his presence.

Anyway, armed with camera, coffee and a lone muffin between two, we strolled through the entrance just in time to feed the 100 or so Lorikeets that lay in wait for us. Lovely wild birds in their multi-coloured splendour but none the less, trained to ‘turn up’ for a freebie sugar laced meal they couldn’t possibly refuse while crapping on all and sundry beneath them. And yes, we were included in that last statement but fortunately, their diet had rendered their doo-dahs to be nothing more than watery splashes rather than the muddy white and black offerings rendered us in the more usual crow dusts and duck oils of the real world.

After that was the short wander through a gateway to the petting zoo where we saw (and could join in with had we wanted to) lambs, sheep, goats, guinea pigs, chickens and miniature ponies all desperately pleading to be fed with overpriced pellets and straw (available at a nature reserve near you at no extra cost). The usual stuff you would find in petting parks all around the world. There was however one slight difference here, this one had free range kangaroos (OMG they do exist) surrounding it.

Now before I go any further I have to relate that my only experience of these spring loaded beasts was that of Skippy the 3 foot tall bush version from 1970’s television. BUT… I also know they can grow as high as six or seven feet tall in optimal conditions. No such luck here though, the highest we saw was around four foot standing on its hind legs so as to pose no form of threat to us foolhardy visitors.

Among the kangaroos (reds and greys – mmm, a bit like squirrels then) there were their smaller cousins, the wallabies and their too big for roasting tins neighbours, the emus and ostriches. And then there was also “Look at the size of the nut-sack on that big boy”, Jodie scaring away parents with small children with her more audible of observations on the roo's tackle bags.

From there we were herded to the Birds of Prey pavilion for a flight show including falcons, owls (two kinds, barking and barn), sea eagles, and eagles (of a fashion – the ozzie interpretations of). Cool birds and a cool way to meet them for sure. But alas not half as long as one would have liked it to be which meant we were soon looking for more to see. But first it was time for din dins in the restaurant area that was besieged with hundreds of bush turkeys and water lizards. Well it felt like hundreds.

When lunch was at an end, it was time to take in a few more of the indigenous animals of Australia. There were koalas (not bears by the way), wombats, snakes, turtles, lizards, monitors, crocodiles, sheep dogs, dingoes (not many people with kids there), Tasmanian devils, flying foxes bats, and a platypus for us all to witness as well as numerous hooked beak type birds with their parrot-phenalia (you may groan here) to be observed.

Besides all the animals, the place also went out of its way to help educate its visitors with sheep dog and shearing exhibitions, the bird of prey show, a scale and tails show (snakes and crocs), a koala presentation, platypus feed and keeper presentation and a Tasmanian devil presentation.

All in all, it was another great day out with plenty to see and do. It wore out the kids (which is always a bonus), and because of its very outdoory nature and the 30 degree sunshine in near blue overhead skies again, it almost got me burnt some more. Almost I said… It really needed Cath Slater to have pulled that sort of thing off more successfully.

And so it is with a heavy heart at being wrong, that this whinging pom finally stands corrected. There are animals in Australia, real ones too, but they hide themselves well from all lily white skinned tourists like me. In all honesty, most of the creatures are dawn or dusk types which is probably why I have done so well to avoid them which is good too really.

I mean, if a wild and unpredictable 7 foot tall kangaroo decides it’s a good idea to dive out in front of your moving motor (putt-putt in our case), it can really do some serious damage to it in the process of having its arse going through its brain like that of a fly. And with that in mind, you want to see the size of the roo bars (more aptly named bull bars for UK and American markets) they have on the front of vehicles over here.

the TWILIGHT zone...

There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity itself. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of all his knowledge. It’s a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of the human mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas.

You've just crossed over into an area…   we call...  the Twilight Zone.

Regular readers will already know that I am presently living here in Oz with a certain Madame Dragonfly here at what is affectionately known as Dragonfly Mansions (the house in the picture… Numba 40), in the sunny suburbs of Coomera, near Brisbane.

But over in the twilight zone, lies another numba 40. Another Dragonfly Mansions. Another place for me to stay maybe.

There’s a lot more house, a lot more gardens, a lot more cars and who knows, maybe, just maybe…

A LOT MORE BOOBIES! YAY!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR

I would just like to take a minute now to wish all you lovely readers a happy new year, 2012. I'm here having a whale of a time and sincerely hope you are finding some enjoyment reading all about it. Thanks for being a part of it all and please, please, please, keep coming back. We have another 18 days to go yet and then some so don't give up on me right now.

Oh and by the way... did you know that this year would be the Chinese year of the dragon? No way you may say but believe it or not it is true. Take a look at what just walked in through the front door here... A cute little chap isn't he?

Excuse the smoke by the way but he has just returned from lighting the local firework displays around here. Another surreal kind of something is not quite right experience for me. Remember I'm a brit and to us brits, you usually get fireworks in the middle of winter not summer. 

So watching all of the fireworks welcoming in the new year with cloudless skies, warm temperatures, no rain, sleet or snow is a real brain teaser and as good as the noisy fizz bang crackle bang fireworks actually were, they still seemed far from right. No wonder my brain often hurts. And then there's the time element to be aware of too. 11 pm here (Brisbane) is midnight in Sydney. So who really knows when the australian new year should really begin.

Anyway, that's enough from me for now. Have yourselves a really good 2012 and don't get too drunk tonight while getting there if you haven't already, or if you did have too much, feel free to join me in enjoying the first of many strong coffees to come.

Happy January the first to absolutely everyone!!

And now, if you don't mind, I really must take my leave. I'll be the one sitting in the corner waiting for the voices (Screaming in my head) to stop... All the very best guys.

Apparently....

You know you're Australian if…

* You believe that stubbies can be either drunk or worn.

* You're liable to burst out laughing whenever you hear of Americans "rooting" for something.

* You understand that the phrase 'a group of women wearing black thongs' refers to footwear and may be less alluring than it sounds.

* You pronounce Melbourne as 'Mel-bun'.

*You believe the letter 'L' in the word 'Australia' is optional.

* You can translate: 'Dazza and Shazza played Acca Dacca on the way to Maccas.'

* You believe it makes perfect sense for a nation to decorate its highways with giant bananas, prawns, lobsters, oysters and sheep.

* You call your best friend 'a total b#stard' but someone you really truly despise is just 'a bit of a b#stard'.

* You think 'Woolloomooloo' is a perfectly reasonable name for a place.

* You're secretly proud of our killer wildlife.

* You believe it makes sense for a country to have a $1 coin that's twice as big as its $2 coin.

* You understand that 'Wagga Wagga' can be abbreviated to 'Wagga' but 'Woy Woy' can't be called 'Woy'.

* You believe that cooked down spent beer yeast makes a good breakfast spread. You've also squeezed it through Vita-Wheats to make little Vegemite worms.

* You believe all famous Kiwis are actually Australian, until they stuff up, at which point they again become Kiwis.

* Beetroot with your Hamburger... Of course.

* You know that certain words must, by law, be shouted out during any rendition of the Angels' song 'Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again' and "Living next door to Alice ".

* You believe that the confectionery known as the Wagon Wheel has become smaller with every passing year.

* You wear Ugg boots outside the house.

* You believe that every important discovery in the world was made by an Australian but then sold off to the Yanks for a pittance.

* You believe that the more you shorten someone's name the more you like them.

* Whatever your linguistic skills, you find yourself able to order takeaway fluently in every Asian language.

* You understand that 'excuse me' can sound rude, while 'scuse me' is always polite.

* You know what it's like to swallow a fly, on occasion via your nose.

* You know it's not summer until the steering wheel is too hot to handle and a seat belt buckle becomes a pretty good branding iron.

* Your biggest family argument over the summer concerned the rules for beach cricket.

* You shake your head in horror when foreign owned companies try to market what they call 'Anzac cookies'.

* You still think of Kylie as 'that girl off Neighbours'.

* If working at a bar, you understand male customers will feel the need to offer an excuse whenever they order a low-alcohol beer.

* You know how to abbreviate every word, all of which usually end in "o" arvo, combo, garbo, kero, lezzo, metho, milko, muso, rego, servo, smoko, speedo, righto, goodo etc.

* You know that there is a universal faraway place called "woop woop" located in the middle of nowhere.

* You know that none of us actually drink Fosters beer, because it tastes like sh#t. But we let the world think we do, because we can.

* You have some time in your life slept with Aeroguard on in the summer.

* You've only ever used the words - tops, ripper, sick, mad, rad, sweet to mean good. And you place 'bloody' in front of it when you REALLY mean it.

* You know that the barbecue is a political arena, the person holding the tongs is always the boss and usually a man and that women always make the salads.

* You say 'no worries' quite often, whether you realise it or not.

* You understand what no "wucking furries" or "no wuckers" means.

* You have sucked tea, coffee or Milo through a Tim Tam biscuit.

* You own a Bond's chesty, in several different colours.

* You know that roo meat tastes pretty good, but not as good as barra or a meat pie.

* You know that some people pronounce Australia like "Straya" and that's ok.

And lastly, you will immediately forward this list to other Australians knowing that only they will fully understand it.

One for the Ladies..

Shoes or chocolate? Shoes or chocolate? Shoes or chocolate?

Or how about going for the chocolate shoes option? (Oh should I wear em or  eat em, wear em, eat em and on it goes)? Well if ever there was a man who could help you ladies ever decide, it could be this guy.... Welcome Max Brenner.

We stumbled across this little shop of his, one of many around the world apparently, while we were eyeing up which boat to steal over at the marina while we were in Surfers Paradise t'other night. And having been previously taunted by the aromatic 'come and eat me' smells coming from other fine fooderies all around us, it wasn't a hard decision to go for it and enter into the world of the somewhat universally famous chocolatier to stuff our cake holes if not our whole faces. Problem was, there wasn't much in the way of real food available there. So, making the best of a bad job, we opted for a bowl full of crepes with bananas and a plate full of waffles with more nanas and strawberries... all covered in various forms of chocolaty stuff. There was chocolate sauces, chocolate creams, chocolate ice creams and chocolate drinks all available in dark, white or milk varieties and although it all looked so very very enticing and 'heart attack waiting to smack you in the face for even considering it', it was however quite disappointing, gritty, richly gloopy and considerably over facing when we finally got to plunge our spoons into it all.

Click here to get smothered in chocolate

Maybe it was just us plebs with the untrained palettes of wannabe millionaires, but it wasn't quite right for us. It was a love it or hate it acquired taste thing, much like Marmite for us brits and vegemite for the aussies. Which was a damned shame really because the place offered so much in the way of promise. I mean take a look around the shop itself, it was the dogs danglies in every conceivable respect. 


I just don't know what it was we ever did wrong in a different life to not get to enjoy it, but like I said earlier, it simply left a lot to be desired from where we were sitting.

Apologies to you readers too, because even the photographs this time were a little disappointing (something to do with not wanting to use flash with the shaking hands of a choclate addict bereft of his fix - that sort of thing). But alas, in the true "please come and be bored shitless with my holiday photos" tradition, I have still included an album of sorts to help try and wet your appetites.

Maybe I should go back to just eating pies again. There's still plenty of mileage left in that for a hobby... Mmmm, I'm hungry again... Where did my Cadbury's go?