I must interrupt my interesting Vietnam travel features to tell you the following good news:

My elder brother Greg has been writing a play called ‘Van Park’ for about 10 years now, I guess; perhaps for lack of any other creative outlet since he abandoned active service in the music scene. He now works in television, you see. For those of you who appreciated what he did while he was a songwriter/musician in the venerable Sydney bands ‘Lighthouse Keepers’ and then ‘Widdershins’ in the late 80’s, early ‘90’s – you’ll not be surprised to hear that the play is very good. A musical black comedy, with King Curly as musical director and performer, and featuring songs by Greg and myself.

The Merrigong Theatre Company are now trialling Van Park as one of their new productions and I have spent the last 3 days rehearsing the music with a group of PROPER THEATRE ACTORS – culminating in a test performance to an audience of critical thespian types who gave it a unanimous thumbs up. Sometime during the after performance chatter and champagne I began to think that this thing might actually get off the ground – and Van Park featuring the music of King Curly could be on a stage in your town soon.

Let’s hope so for the sake of Australian Kulture.

PS: Mr Creighton has asked that I present the picture below as palliative to the awful image I conjured in my last travelogue, in which a poor little drowned sun-bear floated in an vat of alcohol.

In a voice choked with sobs he informed me that this little critter is a tardigrade, commonly known as a “water bear”. Apparently they can survive anything.

A happy ending at last!

I have just returned from a family bonding session in Vietnam where my father, 3 brothers, sister and I went together on a motorbike ride around the North West Vietnamese mountains. And despite the anticipated latent pressurised weirdness of such a reunion – I think we all had a great time.

So what can I report that might be of interest to readers?

Well, firstly I couldn’t help noting that with the passing of time, members of a family grow to look more and more like the same fading, chooky person, (irrespective of gender). And sadly I have proof of this. When submitting my passport and required photo as part of my Visa application, I tested the alertness of the embassy personnel by instead giving them a photo of my elder balding brother and adding a big moustache in texta. I was given multiple access to Vietnam without question.

And what else:

I saw a sun bear in a jar which was very sad, particularly since they are exactly like wild versions of Pooh. The Vietnamese like to put animals in jars of alcohol as they believe they take on attributes of that animal when they drink it – as well as get drunk.

I found Vietnam an assault on the senses.

Strange buildings (influenced by the French occupation) standing in a Dr Seuss kind of landscape. Our trip was made infinitely more exciting by a cyclone which struck the moment we kick started our Russian Minsks and the rain and wind lasted for most of the time we were riding. It was a big enough weather event to make international TV news and the cyclone even had a name though I can’t tell you what it was. Rivers where very swollen with houses half submerged etc. but it was fun and frankly when it did finally clear up I missed the drama of it.

Look at these men cheerfully fix their gearbox in the rain/fog.

It seemed to surprise and embarrass my siblings that I was forever buying thoughtful gifts for loved ones back home. But my moustache let me down badly on re-entry at Australian customs where I was escorted from the ‘nothing-to-declare’ queue (along with a heavily tattooed man) and subsequently relieved of the flick knife I had bought for Mr Creighton as well as a fantastic electrically-charged tennis racquet for killing problem insects.

What a waste.

Look at him there, being kind and patting a dog. No-one knows where he has gone. He told me he was “going to Vietnam to ride a motorbike around the mountains”, but thus far I have been unable to divine any meaning from that gnomic metaphor.

If that dog was here right now, I would tell it that it is a good dog (it looks like a good dog). The photo is by Alex Craig.