The world adores matt hayward

For the past 1500 kilometres, ive been schlepping a Seat Ibiza from Central Croatia (Split) to the Istrian coast in the north. It’s been a heady mix of hair pins and B roads to autobahn style freeways with very liberal speed limits. Cut a long story short, it really is a bit meat and three veg.

What you can definitely say about the Seat it is a well built car. The panel fit is superb. Inside the quality of fabrics and plastics never fails to impress. For those long journeys, the roof is high and seating position near perfect. So there is some quality and purposeful design at work here. Frankly miles more comfortable on the highway to drive than the old BA Falcon I had.

As lame as it may sound, the mirror placement in the car is perfect. And that’s important at some of the speeds we’ve been doing to keep up with well heeled Croats on the highways. A trivial accolate, but what the hey!

When it comes to safety and features though, the car is sadly lacking. No traction control (though it really doesn’t need it) or stability control. While it doesn’t have many buttons and knobs, there are no filled in holes in the dash where the buttons on more luxurious models would go. It makes you wonder whether they even thought of those little luxuries, even more than one cup holder, at all. Clearly not.

To drive, the Volkswagen sourced 1.4 four has a lot of poke in the middle to upper range. Down low, you cant hear it rev below 2000 revs. Which for me is really hard to get used to. Overtaking becomes quite irritating as just when you reach peak power, the rev limiter kicks in like the fun police at a brothel. And you find yourself desperately trying to maintain revs, shifting to a higher gear.

Given the engine size, no surprises here. But it beckons for some Honda VTEC style wizardry to wring out some extra power when you really want it. Not surprisingly with all that revving, I only got about 350 kilometres per tank.

Basically, it’s geared for driving around town and the occasional back road belt. It’s willing enough to perform on a challenging road, but it’s not luxurious or sporty in its tune, firm but not quite boring.

Its on the autobahns that the cars shortcomings become transparent. While it’s fun to biff about in around town, its engine becomes quite noisy at speed and it desperately needs a sixth gear. Because it maintains cruising speeds at very high revs. Sadly this could be very comfortable car on the highway, but for the sake of cost isn’t.

In essence this car doesn’t rival the Japanese (Honda Jazz or Civic Coupe) or the Germans (A Golf - although im told the Ibiza is based on a VW Golf) for class leading performance. But is it a bad car? No. Is it boring to drive? Absolutely not? Is it interesting? Well i doesn’t possess the loveable quirkiness of an old school Citroen but it’s definitely not Korean.

What the Ibiza really is, is the mild sauce in a peri peri chili restaurant. It’s for the shy, but definitely not the meek and ungainly. Given the choice i’d probably drive something Japanese or Italian. Will it be a forgettable experience though? Never.

Well here we are again. Another travel blog update. Rovinj is the city of artists on the Istrian coast. Istria is in the far north east of Croatia and was once a part of Italy, and until last century a big part of Austria’s economy.

Istria and Rovinj is absolutely gorgeous, except for the fact that were in an internet cafe listening to Bobby Brown. Music sadly doesn’t have the same life cycle that it does at home. In other words, crap music lives forever in Croatia. Only down side is that the ocean water is nowhere near as clear as it is down south in Hvar and Korčula. Nor do the locals speak as much English. So much so that if you come to Rovinj, its like getting a free stop over in Germany because there are so many German tourists here.

Rovinj would have to be a highlight of the trip so far. Because it has an old city (no city walls though), so much art and charm in abundance. Like down south, there are plenty of ferries to catch to little islands and stuff. But we’ve well and truly had our fill of that. And the weather has been a little more than average sadly for boating expeditions. Oh and truffles are incredibly cheap in restaurants up here. We had spaghetti and truffles for about $17 AUD. Awesome!

Speaking of good food, we’ve just come out of Monte’s, a restaurant not in any of the travel guides. We’ve had an incredibly sumptuous five course meal on par with View Du Monde in Melbourne with wine for approx $200 AUD. In many respects probably better than local fare through the creativity in dishes and quality of produce. If you end up this far north in Croatia, make sure you save your pennies for Monte’s. The food is much better up north and its far more of a Italian/Euro vibe here than in Dubrovnik and Hvar down south.

At this stage its worth noting that northern Croatia would be pretty inaccessible without a car. Its not cheap (petrol is roughly $2 a litre here) but it’s very so worth it. Especially the quaint little village of Vodnjan was worth the rental of the car alone. Its a little inland village that for all intents hasn’t changed in a 100 years. Not a hit of a fast food joint or chain coffee store anywhere. The antithesis of a tourist town! At the very least, it’s a taste of how Croats truly live in ancient little villages.

The real highlight of Vodnjan is the bizarre experience of seeing 6 sainted mummies in a Church in Vodnjan. One of these mummies was about 600 years old but still has elastic skin. Very, very very, freaky to see. They wouldn’t let you take photos. But we had these postcards that looked like they were from the cover of a Bloodduster CD. Easily the most freaky and macarbe experience of the trip.

Equally macabre was seeing the land mine warning signs on the side of the road to Politviće National Park. A grim reminder that war in that national park only really finished circa 1996. Sadly it was raining cats and dogs and we didn’t get to see the park. But it sure was an experience getting there. Should hopefully get back there this week.

Next update will probably be in Zagreb, the Croatian capital. Until then, rock out with yer cock out! I know I will!

Good news. Weve just got ourselves a Seat Ibiza rental car to drive around in. But the real revelation is that driving in Croatia is like having Keith Moon as a personal chauffeur: spontaneous, fun, but genuinely terrifying.

Its good news because until this point, its been a relentless melee of crack of dawn ferries, jetlag and countless steps to the top of every Dalmatian hill - of which believe me there are several. Even if every street corner here had a lard coated Krispy Kreme store, it wouldn’t make a lick of difference to the locals’ waist lines. The locals walk up more steps in a day than you’ve had hot dinners. It’s an old town thing and it gives everyone a view. So that old addage about women in comfortable shoes is not true here. You do a lot of uphill walking!

Dubrovnik was worth the price of admission alone. The bus drivers make Fangio look a bit soft getting to the old town, but when you walk the city walls, it’s all worth it. Just a stellar view. It’s a fifteenth century walled town, but unlike other Dalmatian cities, each and every stone has been polished. It’s a real site to behold at night.

Rest assured if these walls make the place sound like a fortress, two bars permiate the walls Buža (as in boozer) I and Buža II. You literally can buy a drink and then sit with your feet in the Adriatic and watch the sun go down. Go for a swim even! And just sit back and trip over the view and those grand old city walls staring back at you.

All the tourist books say you can do Dubrovnik’s old town in a day. Well I could do Jessica Alba in a day, but I definitely make her breakfast in the morning. Dubrovnik and Jessica at least share this honour. Nuff said. Walking the city walls would take at least 4-6 hours. So at a bare minimum, do that.

If you come, about four days in Dubrovnik would do you nicely. The old town is an electic delight of relics, restaurants, modern shops and galleries. The restaurants are highly bearable (sorry no truly breathtaking, Epicurian delights to be found here), even enjoyable. If you like simply wandering around and taking it all in, you could easily spend a few days just doing that. Then a few more days exploring the local islands.

Out of the old town, it’s pretty business as usual, sleazy everyday life. Especially in the new port. So you only really need to go there for many of the ferries. One trip well worth spending a few Kunas catching a ferry to the Paklieni islands. Particularly Šipan which is so old school, it looks like Sicily in The Godfather movies. Ferries to the islands are available for pennies and make for a great day out. We also caught a catamaran to the island of Miljet, which is a full days trek to say the least. More about that later.

Right now were in Split. It’s about half way up the Dalmatian coast and a big city. Kind of like Geelong with a healthy dash of proscutto and garlic. I say that because the local grub is a tad derivative and Italian inspired. Weve managed to avoid shopping so far, but its caught up with us here with a vengance.

Split has all this Diocletian castley stuff, gothic ruins, bits of columns, all that bollocks. Frankly its more underwhelming than I expected. But its fun. The new parts of Split are very, very cruisey and slick. Kind of more like youd think Scandinadia would be. Being a big town, the shopping is pretty darn good. I even managed to find a Motorhead CD!

Eating in Split was far more a cultural experience than the Diocletian ruins. Buffet Fife just out of town is a place where sailors, international bogans and locals alike can indulge. Casting aside the bog standard black squid risottos and pizzas, Fife offers goulash, Dalmatian meatballs and game meat and guaranteed enlightenment from the locals and fellow tourists you dine with. A gastonomic highlight so far.

Next were off to the Politviće national park on the mainland, and a seven day jaunt in the Seat. So expect a full update and a road test. How I wish Keith Moon was still around for this journey. . .

Well so far the holiday has been friggin’ awesome. But Korčula seems a bit like a Portsea or a Sorrento back home. A very affluent small beach town, and they dont give a rats’ arse (I cant find the apostrophe on this Croatian keyboard!). Fortunately after the first day, our stay improved tremendously and I really warmed up to the place. Our B&B hosts were brilliant, and let us sample the local grappa and a really great red.

One thing you simply have to do in your life, let alone Korčula, is rent a scooter and ride around the island. It’s a true La Dolce Vita experience! Korčula can very easily afford you a beach to yourself for the entire afternoon! I hadn’t ridden a motorbike before but the roads are both picturesque and very easy going. The water of the Adriatic, as always, clearer than a nuns conscience on Sunday.

The old town itself is quite small and you could probably do it in a few hours, let alone days. Aside from a few art galleries, especially the Atelier Gallery in the old town, meh its a bit average.

One thing to definitely AVOID is Marco Polo’s house. Firstly it probably has about as much to do with the great explorer as my undies. We found a dilapidated shack down the road with a plaque that looked like it was his real home. Secondly, you pay 15 Kuna to walk up a rikety staircase designed for midgets, that is one corpulent American tourist away from total collapse. Once you get up there, it’s an OK view, but not worth the life and limb getting there. If ever there was a need for a door bitch, it’s right here. You know, keeping the numbers to at least 50 at a time on a stair case clearly designed for half a 15th century midget at a time. But hey! These experiences are what travel is all about…

Food is unfortunately nothing worth blogging about. Despite the initially luke warm locals, it’s a bloody great place to spend a few days. Just not too much more than that.

Next stop Hvar.

Lo and behold, Hvar must the be the only true pirate down of the Dalmatian coast. Because before they came, it probably had some beige name like Port Berkshire or something. But pirates mandate rolling Rs, so Hvarrrrrr it is!

All your Lovely Planet guide books describe Hvar as party heaven. In summer it may well be. But were walking past empty bars playing Tina Turner tracks to the dulcet tones of cicadas chirping into the night. So theres no better time to be there than now. Unless your single and grinding your teeth through the week until the next rave, choking on disco biscuits and crap dance tracks.

Hvar also connects to Bol, a tick on flies arse island that just happens to have the most postcard friendly beach in the world Zlatni Rat. Its a proper pebbly Euro beach, but what a beach. Not a surf beach by any stretch of the imagination, but no one comes here for that. If you want to pull up a glass of beer and a sun bed by the crystal clear Adriatic and do N-O-T-H-I-N-G for a week, just come here. It’s the dogs bollocks.

Not quite as wicked as Zlatni Rat is Pak Mižana. A beach all the locals go to. Yours for a ten buck ferry ride.

Its worth mentioning that Hvar is very millionaire yacht and resort friendly. There are plenty of Melbourne standard high class funky bars, a great old town, and an awesome castle to see. Despite all that, its cheaper than Dubrovnik and we found an excellent B&B for 30 Euros a night for a double.

Dead set, Hvar would be packed in summer. But right now at its chilled finest. A definite highlight of the journey so far.

Orrightey. So 3 movies, 2 books and a magazine later and i’m at Changi airport with 3 hours to burn. Thanks to Singapore Airlines, I now want nothing more in this world but to see Kenny G and his whole sux-text of painfully shite ‘jazz’ musicians dead and buried.

So here I am in Singapore. The Switzerland of Asia without the liberalism and the activity. The Monaco without the tax exile. The city where Asia tries its hardest to be lily white and falls flat on its face every time. Frankly I hate it. And if Kenny G coming through the on flight speakers wasn’t enough, you should check the security guys at the airport.

OK so these are times of terrorism. So I was totally expecting to see guys in jackboots with some kind of Abrahms fully sick machine gun action. But they also have parangs on them. Parangs! This is a cross between a macette and mum’s best cheese knife (it has a curve at the end which is just great for a bit of Brie or slashing someones throat!). That just amazes me. Clearly one of these weapons is to make white people feel safe, and the other for a short, sharp ‘good night nurse!’ before you even knew what hit you. So I guess that’s one thing keeping these faux white try hards back in old school. And in a strange kind of way it’s an interesting clash of cultures. Unlike our boys, I think they’d know what to do if those fancy guns jammed up. They probably don’t need them at all.

Anyway it’s humid and i’m tired and sweaty. But let’s not forget it’s a journey, not a destination - and hey, it’s only just begun. So if you keep readin’, i’ll keep writing. Rome here I come. I wonder what sexy Italian guns the security dudes have there?

This has been bugging me for ages, what’s changed since I was a kid. Here are some of the answers

TV
Straight up this is the biggest change. There’s no darkness anymore! Comedy shows like Fast Forward feature scathing satire of political parties. Directly taking the piss out of the policies du jour. Even companies running advertising on their network! It wasn’t elitist, it wasn’t one sided. It was purely bi-partisan, satirical humour that reflected the concerns and the trends of the day, with absolute hilarity. Even A Current Affair used to dabble in it a bit with some parodies at the end of the week.

Parody was a tool used in TV to really get stuck in and remind you what was of genuine concern to people. Now you’re simply told what’s a concern unless you’re watching after 11pm on ABC. What we have now is simply witty skits and acted out puns, sans sexism, politics, current affairs or anything remotely sue-worthy! I’m talking about Rove, Skithouse, The Nation, The Wedge. Almost anything channel 10 puts out!

Sadly news stories are now delivered to journos shrink wrapped and ready to go and TV comedy has been watered down to barely even parodies of celebrities. Because even that is too litigious. It’s just lame. I really miss when television was entertaining because it was objective and intelligent.

Culture
OK so this has vastly improved. And at least if you live near the city, you’ll Melbourne is a part of Asia now culturally not just geographically. There are more cultural influences at fashion, work and play now. Not that you’d ever know if you were waiting to see it on commercial television but hey. At least there’s one good thing to say about the here and now.

Education
In the eighties, I didn’t know anyone that had ever been to uni. Not in my immediate family or friends. Uni students were labeled bloody lefty pinkos communists. Higher education was free but the spirit wasn’t. People went there to learn abstract, philosophical stuff or to become a lawyer or a dentist. But the arty students never went there for a straight career path. It was far more of a journey than a destination for most. A hypothetical, yet occaisionally radical, think tank. People were there to truly learn. And get stoned and pissed as farts, but that’s all part of learning to be open minded - something you definitely wont find on the curriculum today.

One thing I know is that I was one of the last of the free and easy uni students. Fees went through the roof, and you had to pay off your HECS debt (Higher Education Contribution Scheme) a LOT earlier in life (when you earnt $27K per year, down from $37). Sure enough for most, the countries’ greatest investment had to bear fruit a lot earlier.

Work
It used to be a means to an end, or what the Whitlam government called ‘extreme leisure’. People still worked hard but there was more family time. That was until you stumbled upon a recession or two which sucked. Nevertheless, there was a better balance and you didn’t have to commit career hari kari to have a house and kids and a life.

We actually had an Adidas factory down the road too. So we all wore Adidas stuff from the factory seconds shop.

Shopping
Strip malls were the go. So you were out on the street, not in an American style enclosed ‘mall’. You weren’t immersed in a capitalist, air conditioned wet dream. So long as you bought your wares from a family friend or ‘good bloke’, price wasn’t too much of a concern. You were lucky if they played some crappy music through an outdoor PA. Shops closed at 2pm on a Saturday and wouldn’t dream of opening on a Sunday.

Instead of looking at department stores or JB Hifi for meaningless crap, you had to find something constructive to do. Yeah it was boring, but not as depressing as just looking at stuff to buy all the time.

All the shop facades were uniquely Australian.  Notice in the last 3 years that places like Dominoes and Subway use exactly the same signage and facades as they do in the US?

Neighbours
It seemed people had a lot more in common, looked out for each other and basically gave a rats’ arse about each other. There may have been ‘keep up with the Jones” kind of stuff, but there was more openness, instead of every man for themselves as there is now. Most probably, you made similar money to your neighbor and that wasn’t an issue. Now everyone’s on individual contracts and that is that. You don’t want your neighbor to know if you’re making more than them for the same work.

Money
It wasn’t the be-all and end-all frankly. We weren’t collectively all so consumer goods oriented. It was more leisure oriented. In other words, the pool and the boat if anything over the plasma TV, the designer handbags and the cool car. Now one fell move on the fast track to success and people are scared still they’ll never have any of the bright shiny objects they so richly deserve. The bright, shiny objects that placate the missus and satisfy increasingly complex cognitive needs.

There was no fear if you didn’t own the latest and greatest TV, that your girl would lose interest, or you wouldn’t have any mates. It just wasn’t a fear based consumer economy. Consumer goods satisfied a purpose and not an innate desire, and did so for a much longer time!

In closing
We live in far more interesting times. There was a lot lacking in our culture 20 years ago, but there was more room for self determination. Both in what you wanted to do and what you wanted to think. People wait to be told now, by a media that’s lost all sense of news and objectivity. More so than ever, our possessions really own us, and we’ll fight to the death to protect them, but will have the rug slipped from under us with our basic liberties time and time again. There’s no time to get involved anyway!

Maybe it’s not just the glam rock and metal that’s keeping me in the 80s….

Well well well… Thanks to some overly pragmatic Swiss domain registrars, my web site is back up. Why did it go down you ask? Well it was a domain transfer that went horribly wrong. First the DNS settings were wrong (the transfer set them back to the defaults). So I tried to log into my account and correct them. Dang it! I forgot the password. So I reset it. Wrong thing to do. Because I can’t get to my email, because that too is based on the matthayward.com domain!

So why are the neutral Swiss to blame? Well, they wouldn’t give me any alternative to resetting my account password. So I had to send a fax  to Switzerland to request the management of this domain to be moved to another login. Then the sat on it for 5, count ‘em, FIVE whole days. Five days without email or a web site. What really ticks me off is it wasn’t some nerdy lawmakers that decreed a five day wait. It was them! So there was no reason for my web site to be down but for these dumkopfs sitting with their thumbs up their arses!

Anyways, lo and behold your irate blogger is back. This time with a genuine grievance. And you Swiss putzs should stick to pretending to be French and German and making cheese.