This place will always be my ‘home’ but this time I went back as a tourist

It's an odd feeling, returning to the city you grew up in, years later, as a tourist, bringing your toddler son in tow.

I spent the first 23 years of my life in Darwin, and started my career in journalism there at the NT News. I’ve spent a decade in Sydney, and as much as it is now home, I will forever say I am going ‘home’ before a trip back up north.

I’ve done most of the ‘touristy’ things at some point when the southern rellos decided they, invariably, needed to defrost, but it’s different when you’re coming back as a genuine tourist.

We flew in on a Thursday, and after checking into our hotel – the new voco suites on Mitchell St – and stocking up on the usual groceries for a toddler, we drove to my folk’s place for a surprise.

That weekend was my mum's 60th birthday. She didn't know we were coming, and the tears that flowed when we pulled into the driveway of my childhood home made it all worth it.

After a beer with them (be rude not to), we did the most Darwin thing we could – chucked more beers in an esky and off we went to the Mindil markets.

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Obviously, dinner was a laksa. Entrée was a serve of po pia. I sat and enjoyed it while my folks were off god knows where with my toddler.

I then rolled my eyes as the blow-ins (wait, is that me now?) clapped as the sun dipped beneath the horizon.

Once Mr. Toddler – to be referred to as Mr.T – decided we had all had enough (he was functioning on a half-hour nap having woken at 4.30am to make the flight), we wandered out back past the Mick’s Whips display.

He had a girl maybe six in the ring with him, trying to walk her through how to crack a whip. I remember doing the same thing when I was her age three decades ago.

Race time

On Friday morning, I headed off to Hidden Valley for the first of three days at the Betr Darwin Triple Crown races.

I’ve been to some of the biggest race meetings in Australia, including the F1 Grand Prix in Melbourne, the Bathurst 1000, and the Gold Coast 600 (as it was then), but there is nothing like returning to the place that ignited my lifelong passion for motorsport.

I still remember the very first time I saw and heard a race car in the flesh. The calendar tells me it was July 17, 1998. Friday practice for the inaugural V8 Supercars race meeting at Hidden Valley.

The place was an absolute dust bowl. I was standing at the hairpin as Mal Rose, in his iconic black and fluro-yellow car, rounded the corner known by locals as 'clubhouse', navigate the hairpin and then disappear from view to the right.

I was hooked. It’s a bond I still share with my father to this day.

On Sunday, Dad got to relive that experience all over again when my wife and Mr.T joined him trackside. What made it even more special was the fact that day was mum’s 60th – she shares her birthday with racing legend Craig Lowndes.

Mr.T spent virtually the whole time clinging to the chain-link fence shouting “car!” each time they went past.

More things to do in Darwin

Away from the track, we spent one evening at an old favourite spot of mine – the Darwin Sailing Club. It is hands down one of the best places in Australia for a beer and a good pub feed.

It faces west so you can watch the sunset, and the food is ample and tasty. For the kids, there's a playground and beach access to keep them occupied. Personally, it also offered a chance for me to see my elderly grandmother for the first time in four years. There were more tears.

On Saturday morning, before I headed trackside, there was only ever going to be one thing on my mind – a visit to the Parap markets.

he markets are held every Saturday morning year-round, rain, hail or shine. Literally. About the only time they’re ever cancelled is if Darwin is under an active cyclone warning.

The Parap markets was a weekly routine of mine for years, and even more so when I lived within walking-distance.

The stalls are a mixture of craft, food and fresh produce, meaning it’s possible for locals to do much of their weekly fruit and veg shop without having to rely on the supermarkets.

Where to grab a bite

And the food? Superb. My usual favourites were chicken and squid satay, more po pia (demolished by Mr.T) and another laksa.

There are two main laksa stalls at Parap, and locals are staunchly one or the other.

I started eating Yati’s laksas (it was Jackies back then, for those long-term locals reading) when I was three and I quite literally never stopped. I’d buy two every Saturday and eat them for lunch through the week.

For those in the other camp, there is also Mary’s. It is more sweet with a green tinge, while Yati’s has a stronger curry flavour and is reddy-yellow. Your preferred laksa stall is entirely personal preference.

For dinner that night, we elected to stay pretty close and headed down to the hotel’s restaurant, The Aviary. It was so good we went back twice.

We also headed out to the suburbs to the new De La Plage café at Casuarina Beach, located within the Darwin Surf Lifesaving Club (yes, there is one despite a distinct lack of surf in the harbour).

It's a cracking venue, although it's entirely outdoors. In the dry season, it hosts live music and entertainment most nights.

Look, the food could have been terrible, and the ambience would still have been enough to make me want to go back. Luckily, the brekkie burgers were delish, although were a touch on the more expensive side.

A walk on the wild side

On Monday morning, we packed Mr.T into the car with my parents and headed down the Stuart Highway to the Territory Wildlife Park.

It’s essentially a massive zoo – although the tagline I grew up listening to on TV ads was ‘it’s more than a zoo’ – with many unique mammals and birds native to the Top End.

Things started a little shaky when Mr.T was assaulted by a wallaby.

Part of the park is a walk-through wallaby sanctuary, where the wallabies are hand-fed and “friendly”. When Mr.T approached one for a closer look, it was only too happy to oblige.

But then he must have spooked the poor creature, and it reared up on its back legs and kicked him into next week. Maybe it was more a push. He lost some bark off his knees but was thankfully fine.

He’d been bowled over enough times trying to play with my mum and dad’s massive german shepherds the night before. The video will make great fodder for his 21st.

After the wallaby encounter, we headed to the bird show. It has been running for decades, and a buzzard that stars in the show has been doing so for 30 years. It features massive jabiru’s as well as owls and other birds native to the Top End.

Mr.T usually loves birds. But, hilariously, that day he couldn’t have cared less

We wandered back to the main building for a creature encounter, where we met a Godzilla of a blue tongue lizard and an albino python. Mr.T was fascinated with the python… until it was draped over my shoulder.

We spent the next couple of hours wandering around looking at the aquarium and strolling through the rainforest and aviaries.

On our way back into town, we stopped into the Berry Springs Tavern for lunch. Berry Springs is also a lovely little swimming spot, but we were by now well and truly on borrowed time with Mr.T before a meltdown.

The Berry Springs Tavern is a wonderful pub which hosts several big and quirky events every year you would only find in the NT.

Croc races are a popular hit, and they’re surprisingly fast. Baby crocs are placed in a pen surrounded by hay bales and when a large tub is lifted, they sprint full pelt down the other end. It’s all over in a couple of seconds, but it’s genuinely thrilling!

The food is also surprisingly good for a pub. My wife and I shared a pizza, and it was ample between us.

Gone fishing

Tuesday morning dawned clear with a gentle breeze. It was a perfect morning for going fishing, or so I thought.

That gentle breeze in the CBD was actually a fairly strong wind on Darwin Harbour, where I was headed with Darwin Harbour Fishing Charters for a day on the water.

Like many Territorians, my old man owns a boat and is a fishing nut. As soon as we drove onto Stokes Hill Wharf, he noticed the whitecaps on the harbour. We both at that point knew we were in for a long day.

Rough water, high winds, and a strong swell usually means the fish are hiding.

Sam was to be our guide for the day. And as upbeat as he was, he later told me if he wasn’t running a charter he wouldn’t have even bothered going out that day.

He remained confident he was going to land us a fish. And the first signs were good. When he put the first line in the water for the day to show the uninitiated among us how to use a reel, whaddaya know he caught a fish.

Pretty quickly, we were all pulling fish into the boat. Everyone except me anyway. They were all tiddlers, but the fish were clearly there.

When I did pull my first fish into the boat, I asked Sam to take a photo. He told me absolutely not and to wait for the big one we would surely catch later in the day when the wind died down.

Dear reader, the weather gods laughed. And laughed. The wind did not die down, and while I caught several more fish, none were bigger than a dinner plate. You’ll have to take my word for it that the fish I ate for lunch in the photo below was mine.

Speaking of lunch, for an extra fee, your fish can be taken into one of the many food stalls on Stokes Hill Wharf when you come back in and be expertly cooked for you.

Sam told me all the kitchen do is scale the fish, gut it, coat it in a flour and seasoning mix, and flash fry it. Simples.

Let me tell you, it was also delicious. It had been a long time since I had eaten a fish I had caught myself only hours earlier.

It almost made me forget I’m now a latte-sipping southerner with soft hands, and the closest thing I do to hunting is trying to find the shoes Mr.T has hidden somewhere in the house.

Winding down

That afternoon after Mr.T’s nap, we wandered back down to hang out at the Waterfront Club. It’s a pop-up bar located next to the swimming lagoon, and it’s a gorgeous place to sit, chill out and watch dozens of other tourists lap up the sunshine.

We took Mr.T down to the water for a swim, but he very quickly realised he’s a wuss when the temperature is cooler than the 37C baths we run him, and ran back up the beach.

After a couple more daiquiris, it was time for dinner. This time, we went to Snapper Rocks. It’s a restaurant, but with a casual and relaxed vibe. We were joined by some old family friends, and it turned into a lovely evening.

We were there for a couple of hours just sitting, chatting and enjoying everyone's company. The Waterfront really is one of the most relaxing precincts in the country, and wherever you eat your drink you're not going to have a bad meal.

My wife and I shared a Thai coconut barramundi and a prawn paella. The coconut barra in particular was a highlight of the whole trip.

Time for the crocodiles

I had been to Crocosaurus Cove on numerous occasions with rellos, as well as numerous other times as a journo watching various celebrities get their chance in the Cage of Death.

It was finally my turn. And it was probably the highlight of the entire trip.

The Cage of Death is a big Perspex box that gets dipped into a pool with a massive crocodile – or two – in it.

Keepers then coax it out with a little snack of fresh meat, and you're very quickly reminded how small we are in the animal kingdom.

Growing up in the NT, you're taught a healthy respect for crocodiles and just how powerful and dangerous they really are. On the boat with mum and dad as a kid, we regularly had crocs bigger than the boat swim up to us for a look.

But being in the water with one of these literal dinosaurs is something different. I was in Leo's pond. At one point, I locked eyes with this 500kg monster, separated quite literally only by the width of the Perspex cage.

The main pools at Crocosaurus Cove have upper and lower viewing areas. My wife and family were downstairs. She would later share with me a hilarious moment from another family who were down there watching.

The dad said to his two preteen boys: “You can almost see the poo come out of that guy’s bottom”. The horrified kids turned to the dad and told him: “Shhhh! That’s his wife and family!“.

My family all found it hilarious. I must admit, old mate wasn't far wrong.

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It’s hard to put into words just how humbling that experience was.

I knew I was perfectly safe in my cage, but it was clear enough there is a moment your brain forgets it’s there, and you really do get a jolt of adrenaline as your body screams at you to swim the hell away.

We ended the afternoon with a beer at my old favourite haunt – Tap Bar on Mitchell St – before Mr.T decided he was absolutely finished with new experiences and decided he was ready to go home.

Darwin, you were great, and I cannot wait to come back.

The writer travelled as a guest of Tourism and Events NT.