Kalgoorlie, Western Australia

Sauteed chicken and rice, and a glass of Australian Chardonnay

I apologize for the posts being a bit sporadic, but now I will share with you my night in Kalgoorlie, Western Australia.  The Indian Pacific rail line arrives in Kalgoorlie on its final night in the Outback.  After crossing the Nullarbor Plain, which means "no trees" in poor Latin, and looking at miles and miles of desert, all passengers aboard become eager to arrive in Kalgoorlie.  The city sits on Australia's richest gold mining belt known as the Golden Mile.  Before arriving, I was told that Kalgoorlie would be full of hardened gold miners and brothels, which I did not believe because it sounded too much like an old, American Western movie.  I stand corrected.  My friend Jelena, whom I met on the train, and I ate dinner at the York Hotel (NOT a brothel, I would like to point out).  However, a few of my fellow passengers ventured down Hannah Street, Kalgoorlie's main street, and were invited with enthusiasm into bars (or brothels) by scantily clad women hanging in the doorways.  Jelena and I kept our distance and enjoyed dinner and a glass of wine in the company of an old gold miner named "Crooky", a very sketchy character.     

Crooky bought Jelena and I our second glass of wine, which I guess entitled him to sharing his point of view on life in Australia with us.  From him I learned that to be called a Yank or a sewer tank by an Australian is an insult.  I also learned how many white Australians view Aboriginals today.  Aboriginals are seen as drunks living off the government's welfare, and as if to prove this point, I looked outside and a drunken Aboriginal sauntered by the York Hotel.  As a gold miner, Crooky believes Aboriginals make a fortune off gold mining companies.  He stated that as soon as a bone is found on a mining site, the site is declared sacred ground and Aboriginals receive a pay-out from the company.  In his own words, "It could be a dingo bone for all they know, but no its sacred ground."  Obviously these views are racy and I do not know if there's any truth behind them, but I wanted to relate to you my night in Kalgoorlie as accurately as possible.  As the conversation turned to the York Hotel, I was told I had to take a picture of David Beckham's signed jersey, and a picture of the St. Kilda Saint's logo, the best Australian football team in all of Australia.  So, here they are:  

 Also while at the York Hotel, another gold miner was showing off his token piece of gold, or his golden pistol, as he calls it:

Before boarding the train, Jelena found a statue/water fountain of Paddy Hannan, the Irish man who first spotted gold in Kalgoorlie and started the town.  I would like you to meet 'Ole Paddy and Jelena: