Life on the far side of Australia

When you've been dubbed Dullsville it's hard to recover. But one of Perth's newest residents, STEPHANIE ATTWATER, discovers the laidback lifestyle is a big plus.

High expectations can be a dangerous thing. Mention of our move from Auckland to Perth invariably prompted glowing descriptions of that lonesome state capital on the far side of Australia. It was, everyone seemed to agree, clean, modern and, above all, beautiful.

A month later, we were driving home after our first fraught day exploring the city, during which we had visited a Tudor-style street of tourist shops, a pedestrianised area with a small waterfall and pond topped with green foam, and a pretty park looking out over a network of roads to the river.

"But where are the beautiful bits?" I wailed. "I've just shown them to you," said my exasperated Perth-born husband.

It seems I was not the only one to be underwhelmed by my first sight of what is reputedly the most isolated capital in the world. Last year, the Rough Guide's online travel site declared it was hard to get excited about Perth, a comment which grew into a front-page story in the West Australian newspaper with the headline: Dullsville.

But hang on. Western Australia attracted well over 500,000 overseas tourists last year, including around 36,000 New Zealanders, many of them visiting the large band of their compatriots who have made their home in Perth (at the last count, one in every 50 Perthites was New Zealand-born). It is not hard to see why they come: the Mediterranean climate, white-sand beaches and, according to most, a good life.

"I love it here," says Southlander Erin Gilbert, aged 26, who stopped in Perth during a break from Britain and is still here 18 months on.

"It's a city, but it's very laidback. It doesn't have the hustle and bustle of Sydney. The weather is great, jobs are plentiful and the money is better."

Okay, I may have been a bit hasty about Perth. I still haven't come across anything to match New Zealand's scenery, but perhaps that is an unfair comparison. Parts of this city of 1.38 million, which spreads out from the banks of the Swan River to touch the Indian Ocean to its west, are certainly pretty. And it is a relaxed, markedly friendly place with plenty for visitors to do.

The city centre is easy to get around with two free bus services, the Red Cat and the Blue Cat running east-west and north-south, or you can always walk or cycle (it is very flat).

Just north of Perth train station is the excellent Museum of Western Australia with a giant termite hill by the gift shop, meteorites, and a rare megamouth shark preserved under glass.

The extensive Aboriginal Gallery is good, though much of it makes for depressing reading. The display on the Stolen Generation includes some bitterly sad accounts from men and women who as children were taken from their Aborigine mothers, many never seeing them again.

From the museum it's a short walk to the busy footpaths of Northbridge, Perth's cappuccino district by day and clubland by night. With Italian cafes, a little Chinatown, bookshops and old pubs, this area around William St has a pleasing city bustle.

Before leaving the centre, make sure you catch the Red Cat to Kings Park, perhaps Perth's one tourist experience that is de rigueur. On high ground, it offers the best view of Perth, looking down over the Swan River, which is so broad at this point that it looks like a lake. This groomed expanse of trees, native plants and original bushland was established in 1872 as the colony began to grow.

For a better sense of Perth's history, take the bus, train or ferry down to Fremantle, the city's port at the mouth of the Swan. It was put on the map when it hosted Alan Bond's defence of the America's Cup in 1987 and has all the old character and charm that central Perth lacks.

Both Perth and Fremantle were founded in 1829 by the British but nothing much happened until the fledgling communities began importing convict labour in 1850 to build roads, bridges - and their own prison. Many of the oldest buildings in Fremantle are their handiwork. The 1855 limestone-block prison, which only relinquished its last felons 10 years ago, is open to the public, and two evenings a week runs a great torchlight tour ($A14.40 a person). The guides seem to be a special breed of theatrical English gentleman.

Cafes and bars proliferate here, especially on South Tce. On Friday the historic Fremantle Markets, more than 100 years old, stay open till 9 pm - an almost exotic treat as most Perth retail is strictly 9 to 5.30. Here you can wander the cobbles, browsing at velvet cushions, polished fruit and veges, candles, sepia photos and blues CDs while the market pubs put on live music and tiny curry and kebab shops ensure the shopper never goes hungry.

Above Fremantle begins Perth's string of beaches. Inner-city Cottesloe is perhaps the best known and is good for swimming, along with City, Floreat and Swanbourne (popular with nudists); Scarborough and Trigg are where the surfers go. All of them make a nice half-day trip, though beware the sand-blasting effect if the wind gets up in the afternoon.

Further north you will find Hillary's Boat Harbour, a network of jetties covered in tourist shops and restaurants where, shaded from the brilliant light, you can eat fish and chips as a constant breeze blows across the water. It's a bit of a hike getting there by train then bus, but worth it if you visit the Aqwa aquarium.

Divided into four zones to mimic regions of the ocean, the aquarium focuses solely on Western Australian marine life - which is perhaps not such a difficult task considering the state takes up a third of Australia and has 12,000km of coastline.

The displays are stunning: a tank of jellyfish pulsating in the dark; pink and orange anemones; a touch pool for children; and the amazing leafy sea-dragon, which wafts around in a cloud of foliage - actually part of its body - like an over-camouflaged Dad's Army recruit.

The stars of Aqwa, though, are the six grey nurse sharks which ease their way through fish shoals, loggerhead turtles and stingrays in an enormous walk-through aquarium. Scuba-diving staff feed the fish when they're hungry, and it turns out that it is the turtles who are the greedy-guts while the sharks know when to stop, refusing to part their teeth as further snacks are poked in their direction. For a fee, qualified divers can join in and dive with the sharks. Quite a few chicken out, despite assurances that the grey nurses are non-aggressive. Aqwa costs $18, $9 for children, and you can come and go all day.