I went to the Blue Mountains on the train yesterday. I don't really know why they call them the Blue Mountains, I'd call them a reddish kind of grey. It's been raining a lot in New South Wales, but it seems today it's letting up. A few roads are flooded, though. Incidentally the one that I intend to cross in a few days, but probably by then there will be another marvel of nature to announce itself out here in a very surprising but destructive way!
They were beautiful, thought, those mountains. Enormous lookouts and views. Or is a view the same as a lookout? Oh, I don't know. All I know it, it was huge. I couldn't stop imagining myself jumping down and falling onto the treetops, which were very fluffy and soft in my imagination.
I bought a ticket for a hop-on-hop-off bus that stopped at all the nice places. The busdrivers were really nice and made old unfunny jokes, and gave me advice on where to go. Every time I got in, they said: 'Ah, the Dutch girl with the red shoes'. Except that by the end of the day my red shoes were brown because of all the dirt I'd stepped in on my hikes in the woods. Read that last sentence again, please. Yeah, I thought you wouldn't buy that. My two hikes in the woods. True story.
These are the three sisters. On the way I got the world's worst sandwich. I had to throw it away, because it was absolutely awful. So I went to a cute place later and ate scones instead. 
I'd call that Divine Intervention, wouldn't you?
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