Riding my bike up from New South Wales to Queensland recently, I was fascinated by the road signs.
And there are warning signs on every little hill. Many of the Aussie mountains wouldn't even rate a mention in a younger and more rugged country like NZ. If New Zealand used signs the way the Aussies do, there would have signs every few minutes. The Aussies seem to love signs and use them extensively. I counted 15 arrows on a longish corner and this wonderful group on Cunningham highway.
Then there are the commercial signs. You know you are coming up to a town when you see the fast food signs spring up out of the ground like tall, flat, colourful mushrooms. Usually there are Red Rooster, KFC, Subway and McDonalds signs, possibly all in a line making it convenient to decide whether you "deserve a break today" or you can avoid making a home cooked meal by buying a trillion pieces of chicken with a bucket of sauce and "would you like fries with that?". These signs are typically about ten minutes from town and flanked by the more subdued signs of local cafes, motels and other local businesses.
Are there really people who plan their travel around the next McDonalds? Is there a group of travellers who spend their time wondering where their next all meat patty, special sauce, pickles and cheese on a sesame seed bun is going to come from?
I quite like McDonalds. …..Occasionally. But is it really that important?
I much prefer to try new things.
There was the strange grey seafood soup, with the odd name I can’t recall, that I had in a small country village in Tasmania. It was delicious. And then there was the chicken Laksa I ordered in Narrabri from the Asian noodle house. Along with the chicken and veges, it had some interesting cubes of rubbery stuff that may have been dried tofu. … Or possibly not. Now that’s not just dinner. That is an adventure.