In case you’re wondering what this Tommy TuTone music video has to do with our odyssey, the answer is, well, nothing really, except for one thing: The opening words of the lyrics are “Jenny, Jenny” (or for the purposes of this story, “Ghinni Ghinni.”)

Walla Walla, Washington is the only double-named town I can think of in the United States, but in Australia a double-named town like Walla Walla, New South Wales is almost the rule rather than the exception.

It seems like every other town and village and mountain and river and watering hole has an aboriginal double name. Here are some of our oddball favorites:

Bang Bang, Queensland (Too bad the next town to the west isn’t named Chitty Chitty. That would be hilarious on a map.)
Booti Booti National Park, New South Wales (“Shake shake shake, shake shake shake, shake your Booti Booti…”)
Bong Bong, New South Wales (There’s a town named Nimbin, New South Wales that’s famous for ignoring drug enforcement. Wonder if the same is true in Bong Bong.)
Boing Boing, Northern Territory (Wouldn’t this be the perfect location for a kangaroo exhibit?)
Boora Boora Bore, Western Australia (Soooo close to a triple repetition)
Bungle Bungles, Western Australia (No, that’s not a mistake)
Bung Bung Mountain, Victoria (Wonder if this is wine country)
Cona Cona, Queensland (Guaranteed that it looks nothing like Hawaii’s Kona)
Daddah Daddah Creek, Victoria (A rare double double name)
Doon Doon, Western Australia (To paraphrase Friends’ Joey Tribiani, “How you Doon Doon?”)
Dum Dum, New South Wales (Are the residents known as dum dums?)
Goon Goon, Queensland (Is this where the FBI puts mafia hit men in the witness protection program?)
Gang Gang Mountain, New South Wales (Where the mafia hit men live before being sent to Goon Goon)
Ghinni Ghinni Creek, New South Wales (I’ve always loved the Tommy Tu-Tone song in the above video. Do you think it was really written about Ghinni Ghinni?)
Gin Gin, Western Australia (The answer to the question, “What would you like to drink drink?)
Goodie Goodie, South Australia (Hooray! We’re finally here!)
Harry Harry Creek, New South Wales (Do not drink the water.)
Jim Jim Falls, Northern Territory (Far as we know, there’s no town named Jamie Jamie.)
Jip Jip Conservation Park, South Australia (Just not worth the money)
Manu Manu Dam, Queensland (sounds like it was named by Mork)
Merri Merri Creek, New South Wales (Australia’s Christmas Island should be Merri Merri’s sister city)
Mindy Mindy Creek, Western Australia (Goes along with Mork above)
Mini Mini Creek, Northern Territory (Most creeks in this dry country could be tagged with the same name)
Mundi Mundi, New South Wales (Always loved that song by the Mamas & Papas)
Mut Mut, New South Wales (This town’s a dog.)
Nap Nap, New South Wales (So boring it will put you to sleep.)
Never Never, New South Wales (That’s exactly when you should visit this town.)
Puta Puta, Northern Territory (I’m guessing there’s no town by this name in Mexico.)
Wee Wee Creek, New South Wales (Do not drink the water.)
Wong Wong, Western Australia (Two Wongs don’t make a Wright.)
Woop Woop (A mythical aboriginal locality that’s worth celebrating.)
Willy Willy Bore, New South Wales (A bore is a water well. If you know what a “willy” is, I’d suggest not drinking the water.)
Woodie Woodie, Western Australia (You better believe he would.)
Yo Yo Creek, Queensland (This town has had its ups and downs)

There are hundreds more of them. Maybe thousands. Everything from Banka Banka, Northern Territory (never been there) to Wagga Wagga, New South Wales (been there several times).

I’d quote the old Wrigley chewing gum commercials (“Double your pleasure, double your fun”) except I suspect that fun is a pretty rare commodity in most of these small, outback towns.

Australia has some absolutely hilarious place names. Every time we drive through one of them, we write the name down and add it to our list. I also went through an atlas to find some good ones.

Click on the video above to hear a famous song by Aussie singer Lucky Starr (later rewritten and recorded for American audiences by country singer Hank Snow) titled “I’ve Been Everywhere, Man” that gives you a hint of what I’m talking about. The lyrics say:

“I’ve been everywhere, man … I’ve been to Wollongong, Geelong, Kurrajong, Mullumbimby, Mittagong, Molong, Grong Grong, Goondiwindi … Cabramatta, Parramatta, Wangaratta, Coolangatta, what’s it matter?”

Yes, the aboriginal names are very odd to our ears, but some of the English names are also very odd (at best). Here are a few of our favorites:

Banana, Queensland
Burrumbuttock, New South Wales
Chinkapook, Victoria
Cock Wash, South Australia
Cockburn, Western Australia
Cocklebiddy, Western Australia
Come By Chance, New South Wales
Delicate Nobby, New South Wales
Dog Swamp, Western Australia
Doo Town, Tasmania
Eggs and Bacon Bay, Tasmania
Humpybong, Queensland
Tiddy Widdy Beach, South Australia
Grong Grong, New South Walres
Humpty Doo, Northern Territory
Humpybong, Queensland
Koolyanobbing, Western Australia
Moolooloo, Northern Territory
Mount Buggery, Victoria
Nar Nar Goon, Victoria (from the aboriginal word for koala)
Nowhere Else, Tasmania
Ozenkadnook, Victoria (means “very fat kangaroo” in Aboriginal)
Pimpinbudgie, Queensland
Poowong, Victoria
Rooty Hill, New South Wales
Smiggin Holes, New South Wales
The End of the World, Tasmania
Tittybong, Victoria
Teddywaddy, Victoria
Tom Ugly, New South Wales
Upotipotpon, Victoria
Useless Loop, Western Australia
Watanobbi, New South Wales
Wee Waa, New South Wales
Wonglepong, Queensland
Woolloomooloo, New South Wales (a very upscale neighborhood in Sydney)
Wurt Wurt Kurt, Queensland
Yorkeys Knob, Queensland

There’s very little snow in Australia, which makes sense when you realize that it’s the driest continent and that its highest mountain, Mount Kosciusko, is only 7310 feet high.

On top of that, it’s summer here when it’s winter in the northern hemisphere. So how do Australia’s athletes prepare for the Winter Olympics without snow?

This commercial from Australia’s Ten TV network explains it.

Damn it, this commercial makes us tear up, too. It’s not even a sad commercial, but Jamie and I tear up every time we see it. I’m turning into a blubbering fool as I get older.

To Americans, Waltzing Matilda is just a silly kids’ song. To Aussies, it’s the unofficial national anthem, something they feel very deep within. Jamie and I love this country and its people so much that we tear up every time we hear one of the many melancholy versions of the song — even the instrumental version used in a current Toyota TV commercial.

On one of our first Aussie trips together we found ourselves in Brisbane, Queensland. The beautiful tropical city hosted an official World’s Fair back in the late 1980s and the site of the fair and many of its buildings have been retained and turned into a large outdoor entertainment complex on the South Bank of the Brisbane River.

One night we took a water taxi across the river to South Bank and rain started pouring down as soon as we arrived. We were both quickly soaked to the skin, so we ducked into one of the venues to take refuge from the weather and discovered that we’d happened upon a free concert performed by the Australian Army Band.

The small arena was almost full. Maybe those in attendance came for the music or maybe they were all there for the same reason we were. I don’t know. The good Aussies in the stands watched respectfully as the band performed a series of “favorite Australian songs”. But something amazing happened when they began playing Waltzing Matilda — everyone in the audience spontaneously began singing along with the band. Jamie and I looked around the crowd and then looked at each other and realized that both of us had teared up seeing the emotion in the crowd.

The lyrics are meaningless gobbledegook to a non-Australian, but they speak to all Aussies about an almost mythical time in Australian history:

Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong
Under the shade of a Coolibah tree
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled
“You’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me”

Down came a jumbuck to drink at that billabong
Up jumped the swagging and grabbed him with glee
And he sang as he stowed that jumbuck in his tucker bag
“You’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me”

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
You’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me
And he sang as he stowed that jumbuck in his tucker bag
“You’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me”

Down came the squatter mounted on his thorough-bred
Up came the troopers one, two, three
“Whose that jolly jumbuck you’ve got in your tucker bag?
You’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me”

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
You’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me
“Whose that jolly jumbuck you’ve got in your tucker-bag?
You’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me”

Up cut the swagging and jumped into the billabong
“You’ll never catch me alive” said he
And his ghost may be heard if you pass by that billabong
“Who’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me?”

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
You’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me
And his ghost may be heard if you pass by that billabong
“You’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me”

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
You’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me
And his ghost may be heard if you pass by that billabong
“You’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me”

The version in the video above is from the closing ceremony of the 2000 Sydney Olympics. It’s sung by beloved Aussie country singer Slim Dusty and every Aussie in the stadium is singing along, including Greg Norman, Paul Hogan, Elle MacPherson and Kylie Minogue. You can just see how much the song means to them. Jamie and I well remember sitting at home watching the closing ceremonies with tears rolling down our cheeks as Slim Dusty started his song.

Believe it or not, I’m tearing up as I write this. That’s how much I’m effected by the mere sound of Waltzing Matilda. I guess it’s also a good indication of our affection for this hot, dusty, wonderful place.

All Aussies are friendly, but we’re pretty much convinced that Robians (Robites?) are the friendliest Aussies of them all. Here are some of the folks we met during our six days in Robe.

Meet Robbie and Ali Douglas. Jamie was taking a photo of the Robe bowling green (she loves lawn bowling) when Ali accidentally zigzagged in and out of her shot. He struck up a conversation, but we parted ways after speaking for a few minutes. We found out later that he immediately called his wife Robbie and said, “I’ve just met some interesting people. I think we should invite them over for a drink.” She approved so he tracked us down in a nearby museum.

Robbie and Ali were friendly and gracious and incredibly interesting. He retired from a career as a school principal and she from a career as a teacher. Now they roam the third world teaching teachers how to teach and principals to do whatever principals do.

I forgot to take a photo of them, so I asked Robbie to send us a selfie. She took this one at the second game in the Australia-England Ashes Test Match series (in case you don’t remember, that’s cricket) in Adelaide’s beautiful new oval. They’re lucky enough to be there for the game. Wish we were with them.

I’m not quite sure how to explain this photo. Jamie and I were walking down the street and saw an attractive young woman playing in her front yard with her three young sons. She walked over and introduced herself and then invited us in to see the beach house that has been in her family for five generations.

Nick and Mardi, the Collisons, were very warm, friendly people (as you may be able to tell by the photo). Mardi said Nick is a former footie star, which he denied. She said he was such a good singer that he could win X Factor Australia, which he denied. She said he was a wonderful guy, which he couldn’t deny.

I honestly can’t remember what prompted Mardi to leap up and wrap her legs around me. But she was quite willing to do it a second time so that Jamie could get a photo. Luckily, Nick was not as warm and friendly as Mardi and never jumped up to wrap his legs around me.

Jamie and Francie Aitken own the 1850s cottage that became our home in Robe.

What a coincidence. Jamie and I both worked in the ad agency business. I may have had a better than average career, but Jamie put me to shame. He ran the Pacific region for one of the world’s oldest, most respected ad agency networks. We laughed and scratched and told war stories about what a great business it is. And what a horrible business it is.

And then he took us out on his boat to show us what Robe looks like from offshore.

As we got closer to the day that we had to leave our wonderful little cottage in Angaston for a week, we had to make a very important decision. Should we just find another cottage in the Barossa? Fly back to the beautiful beachs in Broome? Or try something completely new?

I started scouring the map for nice little beach towns and finally ran across Robe, South Australia, which looked great online. But we learned long ago that the internet lies (see Trans-Siberian Express). So I emailed our Aussie friend Hamish, who comes from South Australia, and asked what he knew about Robe. He replied with two words:

Robe rocks.

That was enough for us. We made reservations at another charming little 1850s cottage right in the heart of Robe.

Depending on who you talk to, the town’s population is either 1500 or 2000 and swells to either 15,000 or 20,000 when summer (and tourists) arrive. We got lucky because the summer holiday season begins the day after we leave and hotel rates double.

It’s a gorgeous little town filled with lots of fully-restored buildings constructed of big blocks of limestone way back in the 1850s. It’s slow and casual and absolutely delightful. The streets are lined with great restaurants, beautiful shops and galleries, and a famous ice cream shop (that one was particularly important to Jamie). She says it’s like a smaller Corona del Mar and I say it’s like a smaller, older Laguna.

Of course, we’ve come several hundred miles south from the Barossa, so we shouldn’t be surprised that it’s considerably cooler here. So instead of comparing it to Laguna or Corona del Mar, maybe we should compare it to some small, charming beach town in Northern California.

Maybe Bodega Bay.

Since we were in Sweden, all the way back at the beginning this trip, our friend Diane has complained that I haven’t shown enough photos of good-looking men, so just for her I snapped this photo of Jamie with one of the surf lifesaving teams.

She told me later that the lifeguard on the right got to second base with her while I was taking the photo. In fact, if you look closely, you can see his hand creeping very close to the Promised Land.

As they say in Australia, good on ya.

It’s a beautiful day here in Robe. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and a surf lifesaving competition is taking place on the town’s main beach. They have all sorts of timed competitions for teams and individuals from around the country — men, women, and teens.

Jamie considered running out into the ocean and pretending to drown just so she could be rescued by one of the studly lifesavers. Sanity prevailed, however, and instead, she just threw herself down on the beach and screamed, “We need a little mouth-to-mouth over here.”

Happy Thanksgiving. They don’t celebrate this very American holiday down under, so when you mention the word “turkey” they think you’re talking about an Australian Brush Turkey (shown above).

Thanks to the International Date Line, it’s Friday here, but Jamie and I wish all of you a very happy Thanksgiving. Please have a wonderful time eating all the delicious turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and other traditional foods that we’re missing.

We just went out to grab a quick breakfast and now we’re going back to our little 1850s cottage to watch a little NFL football before we begin exploring Robe.

Oddly enough, we’re having cool, crisp Thanksgiving weather here today.

I started to write that we hit the trifecta today, but then Jamie told me that today is also the first day of Hannukah, and I don’t know what the term is for picking four winners.

Let’s cover the events one at a time:

Happy birthday – We’ll get to the most important one first. Yup, Jimmy Boy (as goddaughter Stella calls me) qualifies for government services today. Start sending the checks, Barack, because as of today I’m a taker, not a maker.

Happy Thanksgiving – Make as many turkey jokes as you want. I was born on Thanksgiving and every few years my birthday and turkey day align. This is one of those years.

Happy Hanukkah – This one is especially important to me because I was always honored that Marty and Elaine Ginsberg called me “Son Number Three”.

Get-Your-Butt-Out-of-Our-Cottage Day – We’re here in Angaston for three months except for the next six nights when neither of the Lovedays’ wonderful little cottages were available. We considered flying back to Broome, but found another cottage in a lovely little beach town named Robe about 250 miles down the coast. That’s where we’ll be staying for the next week. It must be a nice town because whenever we mention Robe to someone from the Barossa, they oooh and ahhh and get all dreamy-eyed. We think of it as a vacation from our vacation.

Next stop, Robe. (That’s it in the photo above.)