Friends Reunited

Before I talk about chocolate, I’ll start with the very pleasant news of Toxic Math’s surprise visit from two great friends from Blighty. Alistair is a one time Toxic Math contributor, and we’re both pictured here wearing our best Australian. What’s equally surprising is how remarkably well such a secret was kept from me, namely by my girlfriend, who had been planning such a shock for months before hand, rather accurately as it turns out, and completely without my knowledge. Either this questions my observance or the quality of her subterfuge: anything else I need to know about, darling? Maybe a secret Warhammer addition, perhaps? This, in part, is why this addition of TM is slightly overdue, and probably why the next one will be too. As many people who have enjoyed the east Queensland coast will tell you, the fact of the matter is that we’ve just been having a little too much fun.

Now, chocolate. I have now had two conversations with separate Australians who are both convinced that Cadbury chocolate is a local product, and not a proud British institution, for which I argued the latter. Before we go any further, I am right about this - John Cadbury opened his first cocoa shop in Birmingham in 1824, inherited by his sons but spearheaded mainly by George Cadbury who would turn the business into a mighty industrial force with the opening of a purpose built chocolate factory located in the sleepy village of Bournville, four miles south of Birmingham, complete with housing and amenities for all employees. But the history of Cadbury’s in Australia is such a long and distinguished one that you can fully understand the sentiment involved in wanting to claim the brand as their own.

For starters, the factory here in Hobart, Tasmania, was the first one outside of Bournville, built in 1918 just as the Cadbury name began to seriously diversify. They worked tirelessly as the official provider of chocolate for the Australian armed forces during the Second World War. According to their website, “Cadbury ration chocolate in brown-paper wrappers was supplied to troops in the field, made from a special formula so that the precious parcel did not melt in the heat of the tropics or the desert.”

There are now factories in Melbourne, Victoria and New Zealand, not to mention Cadbury factories located around the world. Patriotic Brits appeared to lose their crème eggs when it was announced that the American food giant Kraft were to buy out the company in 2010 for the substantial sum of £11.5bn, but before we get too emotional about these things, it is worth noting that by this stage, Cadbury were far from an exclusively British product: the company also owned Trebor Bassett, Fry’s, Maynards, Halls and, until the demerger in 2008, they had been known as Cadbury Schweppes since 1969 with much of its factory work based in Poland.

Through their acquisitions Down Under, well known and uniquely Australian brands like Freddo and Cherry Ripe would end up carrying the Cadbury name, and so a long list of exotic and sumptuous chocolates began to emerge. Take a trip into Australia’s two leading supermarkets, Coles or Woolworths (which, rather fortunately, has nothing to do with its failed British namesake), and just look at what glorious, calorific indulgences are available only on this side of the Cadbury hemisphere: dairy milk blocks filled with macadamia and cashew nuts, peppermint flavours, a desserts range with Black Forest, Tiramisu and Crème Brulee, and many, many more. And what do we get in England? Boost bars. And a Twirl, if we’re lucky. That certainly doesn’t seem fair.

Because many of these types of chocolate could be easily obtained in the UK. Things like Rocky Road (a lethal combination of marshmallow, cherries, peanuts and coconut), Top Deck (a block of both milk and white chocolate), or even the Snack block (with individual pieces containing different flavours; some filled with caramel, others strawberry, orange, and Turkish Delight), could be easily replicated. So I contacted Cadbury Australia for an explanation, and Customer Services’ Tracey Delaney offered this: “Cadbury Australia manufactures many products that are not available throughout the world. Cadbury UK have their special products just for the UK as dose [sic] New Zealand.” Which may not fully explain such a grave injustice, but may give the English one more reason to be jealous of Australia.

Rockhampton is the capital of beef, apparently, which may explain why there are so many large cattle statues as you enter the city, all in praise of the bovine delights which have brought such great fortune to the region thanks mainly to two large, still functioning abattoirs. It has the same sprawling feel of suburban Bundaberg built in a similar spirit of turn of the century Americana. By the way, Australia are quite fond of their Big Things, as you will no doubt discover, with giant shrimp, burgers, crocodiles, toads and other seemingly random assortments regularly dotting the landscape. Rocky’s five large cows represent the different species which are bred here, and inevitably slaughtered, of course, in rather brutal numbers.

Anyway, we’ve stopped here as we travel north along the Bruce Highway, connecting the majority of Queensland’s east coast, to take part in a more hands-on, Aboriginal experience, courtesy of the Dreamtime Cultural Centre. Set in 30 acres of ancient tribal lands (although, lets be honest, most of modern Australia has been built on ancient tribal lands), this is an insightful if slightly over-egged tourist shop which hosts tours involving the history of the Torres Strait islanders in Queensland, and a gift shop where you can buy Aboriginal art, literature, didgeridoos and boomerangs. Speaking of which, the more practical side of the tour allows visitors to give this ancient throwing stick a spin for yourself, after a helpful demonstration from tour guide Wayne. It’s more tricky than it looks, which isn’t too surprising, and a complete physical marvel when you actually sit and think about it - the sort which could drive mathematicians nutty.

But Wayne’s real talent lies in his didgeridoo skills. This ancient Aboriginal instrument, which can be played in a multitude of different tones and pitches given the extent of the player’s skills and their sheer lung capacity, is intrinsically linked to different ceremonial dances and stories. It’s also a male fertility symbol, but Wayne’s quite open to women giving it a go, although his rather stark advice is for them to “not do it in public.” Hard luck for a young Canadian tourist, then, who seems quite keen to try beat boxing underneath the ceremonial didge drone. “Most people tend to respect the instrument,” Wayne says by way of a courteous put down, and the conversation moves swiftly on.

Incidentally, ‘didgeridoo’ is not onomatopoeic, which is what I initially thought. In fact, it’s not even an Aboriginal word. It belongs to politician and anthropologist Herbert Basedow, an Australian no less, who lived for some time amongst the more remote Aboriginal tribes of the Northern Territory and published many books on the subject. He seems to have become fascinated with this musical aide, which was simply made from the hollowed out, termite bitten wood of a branch or trunk and suitably named it a ‘didgeridoo’, but to this day, the local tribes will not call it this. Wayne tells me the most common name for the instrument is ‘yidaki’, although even this term varies from town to town.