Geraldton

After Cervantes, I went to Geraldton. Now I understand why people in Cervantes asked me "why are you going to Geraldton?". It's a rather unexciting place, although it's the largest town of a region which ranks high in Australia's historic places. I mean, nobody really seems to care about the fact that the very first non-indigenous people to actually live in Australia were Dutch and it all started not far from Geraldton, on the Batavia coast, in the 17th century. It seems more catchy to refer to Mister Cook as the number one... Nevermind...

There are some nice buildings in Geraldton, after all...

I'm still trying to work out the link between those 3 shops: an adult shop, a butcher shop, a tattoo shop... Interesting.

The impressive memorial to HMAS Sydney II, an Australian warship which was sunk by the Germans during WW2.







One seagull for each victim.

The magnificent Byzantine-style St Francis Xavier church. A surreal building in Geraldton. I quote Alice, Italian backpacker from Modena, whom I met in Coral Bay: "it looks like a nightclub!".

Geraldton's lighthouse. They're proud of it.







The last day in Geraldton was impossibly boring. So I was relieved when my saviour arrived: the Greyhound bus. Woohoo!

So I said "goodbye" to Batavia Backpackers, which ranks number 2 (behind Perth's Grand Central Backpackers) on the list of the worst hostels I've stayed in during my round-the-world trip. Why such a good ranking in such a bad list: the kitchen fridge stank and the smell went into my food bag and into the food itself... Yummy.

Farewell, Geraldton.