Well, first of all, I notice that we had some technical issues with the image on yesterdays blog post. You can click here: Day 65: Kermits Revenge, to see the amended post with the missing photo now correctly uploaded. Sorry about that.

As for today, we started off already weary after a poor nights sleep. Even leaving the air conditioner running overnight did little to ease the stuffiness, and we both spent a good part of the night tossing and turning in an effort to get comfortable. It didn’t help that Bethany had decided that she too wanted to stretch out across the bed, taking the bottom quarter for herself. I ended up booting her off, to allow us room to stretch our legs out. She wasn’t happy about it, but after getting kicked off for the third time, she got the picture and retreated demoralised to her own bed on the couch. It was too late by this stage for either Bec or myself to regain any semblance of restorative respite however.

It was 9:00AM when the alarm shocked us from our fragmented slumber, although at least Bec got to stay in bed. I however was off to collect my camera, or should I say was off to visit my camera. To make a long story short, they are dragging their heels in getting it cleaned and it was still sitting on the desk waiting to be looked at when I arrived this morning. Not only was it still sitting their, but the battery had been drained, and power is a necessity for the cleaning process to be undertaken. So much for it being ready yesterday as planned. I was glad we had spent the time with David and Heather rather than rushing down to get it. I grumbled that I was on holiday and needed it as soon as possible, having already lost the chance to photograph three days of our trip. I was promised that if I was able to return yet again, with a fully charged battery, that it would be ready for me this afternoon. Forgive me if I don’t go holding my breath waiting.

To settle the anger that was welling up within me over this entire wretched situation, I sat down at a café for a supersized cup of strong coffee. I didn’t much enjoy it, as I sipped it through clenched teeth, but by the time I was ready to return to the van, I had at least mellowed out to a category 3 tempest rather than a fully blown category 5.

Returning to the van, I got Bec up, and we prepared ourselves to go out. All of our visitors are meeting here at our van at midday, before we embark on a trip to the East Point Military Museum. The idea of meeting up was to allow a bit of car pooling to take place, so while the other 4 went in one vehicle, Bec and I wheeled out in ‘The Beast’. We didn’t think it fare for everyone to tag along to the camera store for me to drop the battery and another piece of my mind off. Instead, we promised to meet them as soon as possible at the museum.

Here we come. Sorry we’re late.

Expecting to spend only an hour or so at the museum, Bec and I figured we would have a quick look around, before returning to the van, while the others continued on to the museum and art gallery that we visited the other day. As it turned out, the military museum was a sensational spectacle that took us several hours to slowly amble about to take it all in. Split between a modern exhibition hall and an expansive outdoor area encompassing several open air displays of various wartime machinery and a number of other exhibits housed in World War II era military installations.

Just as it says: Welcome to Darwin Military Museum.

Example

Of Some

Of The

Displays.

The highlights for me was the short film depicting the bombing of Darwin, with an accompanying light and sound show, and the interactive campaign table which gave an overview of Darwin at the time of the attack, as well as telling the stories of many of the characters that were in Darwin at the time. Outside, we found further display cases within the giant gun emplacement and in the old operations bunker, not to mention the grounds, which were littered with old trucks, field guns and other military vehicles and hardware.

Even Bec, who was initially disinterested in joining in on our tour of the museum, found it to be an informative and fun experience. I found it to be one of the better historical institutions I’ve been to, especially learning more about the harrowing experience it must have been to live through the overwhelming destruction of the bombing attacks on our very own home soil.

Just outside the grounds of the museum is a large field with the remains of further war era gun emplacements and ammunition bunkers, where we spent some further time exploring before we decided it was time to make our way back to the van for afternoon tea. It was getting on to 4:00PM by this stage, and seeing as though we had all missed our midday feed, the hunger pangs were making themselves known.

Our version of a campaign table.

With the six of us squeezed into the annex, we mauled our way through a spread of cheese and crackers, bringing back fond memories from the early stages of our travels, while over a few cold beverages we made plans for this evening and tomorrow.

Even though Bec and I had decided that the Mindil Night Market wasn’t our thing, we figured that being the Darwin institution they are, Liz, Greg, David and Heather shouldn’t miss out on the sights, sounds and smells of the bazaar. Since we had enjoyed the street stall food last week, Bec and I decided we would tag along as guides.

Similar to last week, we got there at a bit after 5:30PM, when the crowds were minimal. That gave us all the opportunity to whizz quickly about the majority of the stalls before the crowds amassed to the point of a claustrophobia inducing crush.

It was such a shame though, that everyone has travelled all of the way from Melbourne, with a picture perfect mindil beach sunset foremost in their minds, courtesy of last weeks blog. They were to be dismayed though, by a cloud infested sky that turned the twilight into a canvas of flat, one dimensional hues of grey. So much for being able to show off the best that Darwin has to offer, when Mother Nature decides to draw the curtains on her evening light show.

What a difference…

…a week makes.

Dinner was taken at the stall we frequented last week, in the belief that it was safer to stick to a known quantity, rather than trying our luck with an unknown vendor. Over dinner, we finalized our plans for tomorrow morning, agreeing to check in with David and Heather at their domicile, at 10:00AM. With that decided, we fought our way through the now crushing crowds of people, to the cars, where we then fought our way through the crushing crowds of vehicles to make our way home. Bec and I declared that we would most certainly not be returning to the markets again next week. While two times might be the charm, twice was also enough. Although… Well you’ll just never know, if you don’t tune in next week.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.