A Town Like Alice

Following our expedition into the Red Centre we returned to the youth hostel at Alice Springs.

We hadn't expected Alice to be the dusty, fly-blown town described by Neville Shute in his novel all those years ago, and neither had we expected it to be the silent, soul-less place we found on our short stay there.

The indoor shopping mall in the centre of town was almost deserted at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon, and the only people around were a few tourists; like us, aimlessly wandering and wondering what to do. Groups of aborigine women sat chatting on grassy areas, while the aborigine men seemed to prefer drifting alone, usually holding a 'stubby' and sometimes asking for a cigarette or a dollar.

It was difficult to make eye contact with these indigenous people, and easy to feel threatened, especially when abuse inevitably followed a refusal of cash. Could these be the same aborigines whose fascinating lifestyle, history and customs we had seen described in the culture centre at Uluru?

Anyway, I wasn't there to ponder assimilation, integration, or racial harmony, so I went and sat in the open courtyard of the youth hostel and enjoyed the film 'Australia' on a big screen under the stars.