Left field in the top end: Darwin gets random

Hands down, the best things about travelling are always the most random. Usually it's random encounters with crazy people - and there are a lot of them out there - but really it could be anything that comes from a little left field.

Like chatting for a couple of hours over a glass of chardy with the lady next to you on the plane - a real Kath and Kim character whose travel credentials put me to shame. She makes a point of trying to connect with the local people on every trip, even in a small way. She's got a keen eye for cultural differences, picking up on a recent trip to Myanmar how farmers work together in the fields and lamenting the loss of community in Australia where people work alone in the fields driven by money. Someone who seems genuinely happy to have her eyes opened to the injustices suffered by the people of Myanmar and keeps learning more about the country long after she returns home to Sydney.

Like the lady at the shuttle bus counter at Darwin Airport with her big curly grey hair, who calls me 'pet' in a disconcertingly manly Aussie bogan accent.

Like the shuttle bus driver who, at 1am, didn't think it important to acknowledge our existence but to whom we felt compelled to thank profusely in a desperate bid to elicit a response.

Like arriving at your hotel at 2am to find that your room has been given to someone else because of a burst water main so the manager has arranged for you to spend the night at a more expensive resort. Then, as he drives you there, points out the most salubrious watering holes in the top end, and a couple of strip joints, leaving you wondering what message you're sending to the locals: is it your melbourne clothes? The glasses? Do they think we need to loosen up?

Like being asked if it's your first time in Australia, after you've handed over an aussie drivers licence at the hotel reception.

Like giving bed-making lessons to the porter who made up the pull out bed with no sheet or pillowcases, and who couldn't tell the difference between a doona and a sheet because his mum makes his bed for him.

But best of all, it's waking up in a new city, sitting on your balcony with the sun shining, looking at the aqua water stretching for miles in every direction and wondering what you should do first today: swim or breakfast, breakfast or swim?

Yep, I agree. A swim, then breakfast. Time to get Sarah-Jane out of bed. Time to check out the top end.