Browsing and sluicing in Perth and Margaret River, Western Australia

When I was last in Perth – more than ten years ago – it was well and truly shut. There was nobody around, nothing to see and nothing to do. I was bored to screams and couldn’t wait to leave.

Back then, Perth used to bang on proudly not only about its 19 beaches and extensive ocean and river fronts (which it still does of course), but also about its being the world’s most remote city. Locals took perverse glory in Perth’s isolation (it’s some 3,000km from Jakarta, its nearest non-Australian city, and some 2,000km from Adelaide, its nearest Australian one). And, boy, didn’t it just feel stuck in the middle of nowhere? I must have imagined it, but I’m sure I remember tumbleweed blowing down the deserted, arrow-straight main drag, St. George’s Terrace.

Ten years on, though, and the locals are far keener to point out that Perth is on the same time zone as a third of the world’s population and, thanks to modern technology, not in the slightest bit remote at all.