There are people who have visited Canberra and don’t like it, there are people who have never visited Canberra and don’t like it just the same, there are people who have been to Canberra and actually quite like it, and then there’s Monty.

If there was an annual competition to find Canberra’s biggest fan and then award that person a hot air balloon voucher and a free Commonwealth Public Service lanyard, Monty would win it every year. Admittedly, the field of contestants would be rather small, but Monty would still win it, and we should be proud of him for that.

Monty and I recently travelled to Canberra for a long weekend for a friend’s wedding, just the two of us, and it was the greatest display of Australian Capital Territory fandom that perhaps this non-State has ever seen.

Our very civilised 0045hrs Qantas flight from Darwin was delayed by two hours, but at 0245hrs Monty was still break dancing, running back and forth and dreaming about Questacon.

“Daddy” he asked me, pausing his break dancing.

“When you die, are you buried where you are born or where you were when you died?”

“Umm” I said, finding it hard to move my sleep deprived brain out of neutral to answer this unexpected question, “Well, either, and neither really. You can be buried wherever you like, or even get cremated if you like. You’ll be dead, it won’t matter to you.”

“Well, when I die I want to be buried in Canberra, with you.”

This was one of the more heart warming yet strange and disturbing sentences that has yet come out of Monty’s mouth in his 7 years so far lived, and he says some pretty weird stuff. But I gave his hand a little squeeze said “me too”, and thus we boarded the plane, and our adventure began.

I let Monty have complete discretion over our itinerary, and this is how he drew it up:

• Edgar’s in Ainslie, or that out of place crepe cafe down the other end;
• Movies at Dendy followed by getting our nails did followed by sushi – readers may recall this was a standard Friday for us when I took a year off a couple of years back, we watched Bob’s Burger Movie at least three times – more here;
• The Mint;
• A rather non-descript cafe that we used to go to a lot near The Mint;
• Rainforest Gully (The National Botanic Gardens) “In my opinion daddy, these are the best Botanic Gardens in Australia”;
• The War Memorial;
• The Arboretum;
• New Parliament House (when Parliament is sitting ideally, to sit in the gallery);
• Black Mountain Tower (traditionally known in our house as ‘the rocket’);
• The National Museum (if we have time); and,
• Watching cousins play basketball (of course).

I am happy to report we did all of the above, except the Museum, which he decided in the end wasn’t one of Canberra’s highlights (I tend to agree).

At The Mint we saw Titan the robot money-making arm which seems a bit over-engineered, and souvenired a Penny minted for the year of Monty’s birth, at Rainforest Gully we somehow couldn’t find that slightly dangerous treehouse but we did souvenir some mosquito bites, at the War Memorial Monty deeply admired the dioramas and procured a pencil sharpener shaped like an F18 Fighter Jet, at New Parliament House we spent time in the public galleries of both the House and the Senate, observing a couple of dry 2nd reading of bills, but also a spicy censure motion, we also purchased a puzzle of lego people sitting in the Senate. It is REALLY hard. At the Arboretum we just tried to stay dry and at Black Mountain Tower we were saddened to discover that it is STILL closed to the public, and looking more like the scene from a zombie apocalypse than ever before.

In between we enjoyed some crisp air, some rosellas and the opportunity to wear a jacket (Monty purchased an incredible bedazzled coat from this fancy shop called H&M which we don’t have in Darwin). All in all a very pleasant visit indeed.

As we sat on the tarmac ready to fly home, Monty was full to the brim with the spirit of Canberra, his head in my lap and almost asleep. The latest Qantas safety advert came on our little screen; this one weaves in ‘Where is your magic place? We hope you get there soon‘ and then gratuitously shows all these lovely places that Qantas flies to.

Monty looked up at me, his eyes moistening, and he said “I’m in my magic place, and I’m just about to leave.” And then he began to cry.

Give that boy his lanyard and his balloon voucher. There is no competition.

Staring up at the zombie apocalypse