Port Albert.

It was only a short distance down the road from our last stop. So we nearly did not turn off to visit Port Albert, but Kelly talked me into it.
Turned out to be a beautiful town with a large spacious park that allows free RV parking overnight.

Bugger. Wish we had driven on a little further and stayed here last night. So. Better check it out.

The local coffee shop looked promising. We ordered and sat outside in the warm sun.

Just as the hot brews arrived we began chatting to a local of 30 yrs. Well dressed in a plaid jacket and carrying a clipboard I thought he looked like a real estate agent.

Anyways the conversation went back and forth about how he was originally from Greece and how he had not been back since the 1970s, and how he had built up his small farm from a 4 sq metre plot of land, and how he has just sold his favourite bull (its a Highlander breed you know) because doesn’t want to get too attached to it (which he already had you know), and how stock animals have such individual personalities when you get to know them….

And it was all very pleasant sitting in the sun sipping coffee and being in no hurry to get anywhere and talking about this and that and other such things.

And then it happened.
He leaned in close…..
Do you believe in God?

Aaaaand the penny dropped (much like the current stock market)….. I glanced down to see his clipboard was wad full of Jehovas Witness pamphlets.

He had a captured audience…for at least 3/4 of a croissant and half a cup of coffee.

The conversation became far more animated and completely one way, as we learned how the Greek Orthodox church was no good because they used a strange language that nobody understood and how every religion on the planet except the Jehovas were engaged in warfare and other ungodly activities. And so forth and so on….and oh how I longed for the old talk of bulls.

He was a nice enough man, really, and I don’t mind a conversation exploring religion at all. But I am not so keen on being proselytized to.

Scoffing down the remaining food we extracted ourself from the situation as soon as we could. Our mortal souls still pretty much intact although we both did have indigestion and T-shirts covered in croissant crumbs.

Oh, and to each of us a pamphlet from the Jehovas.

Foster.

Onwards. Just up the road a way is Foster, another Aussie town built primarily on a modest gold rush in the 1880s.

We arrive just before 1 pm. The time that most of the shops and cafes would close for the day. So we did the pre-shutdown tourist dash enabling Kelly to poke her credit card into all the places of interest.

The park at the end of town was busy and despite being March, the whole place had a sort of spring feel about it.