It's Sunday and I decide it's time for some gospel. Leaving Jamille in bed, Mum and I go to the Full Gospel Tabernacle Church. It's run by Reverend Al Green, reformed soul singer, who is usually there to lead the congregation. He is away this time but is ably replaced by Pastor Whiting.

Other than a few stained glass windows and a chandelier, the church is plain and sturdy with wooden pews. A portrait of a black Jesus hangs on the walls. Little children are looking gorgeous in their Sunday best with plaits, bobbles and bows. Several women are wearing their finest. One little old woman with snow white hair beautifully done is wearing a pearl necklace and earrings. Another is wearing a lime green suit, lime green racing hat with feathers and lime green high heels. The men are no slouches either. One looks like a balding African American version of Colonel Sanders with an all white three piece suit, walking stick and a huge pinkie ring.

The choir starts the service off with gospel singing that continues throughout. Pastor Whiting gives his sermon in a mesmerising, deep baritone and sings rather than peaks some of the scripture. The congregation participates with Amens, Praise the Lords, swaying and dancing.

Three very trendy looking young men who had been ushered in like honoured guests were asked to come up and sing. They introduced themselves as a visiting band called Tony Tony Tony who had been playing downtown the night before. Their gospel nearly brings the house down.

At the end, Reverend Whiting calls for people who feel the need to come up and get personal scripture from him. A few people who appear down and out do so and come away crying. One man gets up, dragging his granddaughter and other family with him, to tell everyone an emotional story. However, the story is never clear and doesn't really go anywhere. After 20 minutes of some good natured encouragement and giggling from the congregation and calls from the Reverend to "be patient", he is shuffled off and the service ends.

I'm not religious and mostly went to people watch and experience something different but it still leaves me with a feeling of peace and lightness. After the service, Reverend Whiting seems a little taken aback when I hug him but quickly rallies to ask me the same question we've already been asked a few times: do we box kangaroos in Australia? Bloody Kangaroo Jack. My standard reply has become, "No, but we throw on a saddle and ride them down the streets."

Our run of larger than life uber drivers continues. Cullen is from the Ivory Coast in Africa. Upon learning we are from Australia, he tells us about his visit to our continent. Cullen was a back up for the running team in the 2000 Sydney Olympics. His team flew into Perth and then decided it would be nice to get a bus rather than fly so they could see some scenery. From Perth to Sydney. They saw some kangaroos but not a lot else. Then there was Katherine, our uber driver home later that night. She wears multiple knives when she goes out. This is about the 8th time people have mentioned carrying knives while we've been in the States.