This is an excerpt from Bill Bryson's book, "Down Under"
In one of the shops I bought a postcard that showed a kangaroo surfing, and asked the young lady who served me if she knew where the original Surfers Paradise Hotel was. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said and looked guilty, as if she had forgotten a secret with which she had been entrusted. ‘I haven’t been in the area very long,’ she added.
I nodded that it didn’t matter and asked her where she was from.
‘ACT.’ Seeing my mind whirring to little effect, she added: ‘Australian Capital Territory. Canberra.’
Of course. ‘So which is better,’ I asked, ‘Canberra or Surfers Paradise?’
‘Oh, Surfers by a mile.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s that good, is it?’
‘Oh no,’ she said emphatically, amazed that I had misread her. ‘Canberra’s that bad.’
I smiled at her solemnity. She nodded with conviction. ‘I reckon if you were going to rank things for how much pleasure they give – you know? – Canberra would come somewhere below breaking your arm.’ I grinned and she grinned too. ‘Well, at least with a broken arm you know it’ll get better.’
This is what I tried to express on Sunday's ride...