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As soon as we stepped out of the Adelaide airport, the dry heat of South Australia was a remarkable change from the humidity of Queensland. We weren’t in Cairn-sas anymore – it was a new realm of “Oz.” As the Uber drove us through downtown Adelaide, the vast parks and main cricket stadium caught our eye. We learned it was called the Adelaide Oval, and hosts big concerts too. We only stayed two nights in Adelaide, but really made the most of our time. As soon as we arrived and dropped our bags, we pivoted and caught another Uber into town so we could witness the Central Market before it closed for the day. The market was indoors, with lots of gourmet goodies that could pair with the local wines. My brain was fried and stomach was empty, so I had a flat white and some quick pizza while the others started shopping. There was a frantic energy at closing, as shops closed and hurried shoppers (like us) tried to squeeze in last-minute purchases. We decided to walk the 45 minutes back to our place. We only made it a few blocks before the snacking began! The snacking target was a newly acquired loaf of bread and its accompanying truffle spread. In the process of opening the spread, a little oil from the top of the jar spilled onto Val’s hands and then the sidewalk! We had a good laugh. (The truffle spread itself was a bit polarizing, but I loved it.) Along the way, we stopped at a Mexican fast-food place for supplemental tacos, watching the pedestrian traffic from the second floor balcony. We were all a bit surprised that Adelaide had a proper downtown, as we pictured it being a lot smaller. We ventured down this same pedestrian street to a large, two-story Woolworth’s for groceries. Our walk took us through a beautiful park. It was a pleasant scene, with wide fields and chirping cockatoos. On the river, we spotted special boats equipped with a BBQ in the middle – apparently they are an Adelaide specialty. In the middle of the park was a cricket pitch where a game was in progress. Vince had the idea of checking it out, so we found our way into the brick grandstand and watched. None of us knew the rules of cricket, and were pleasantly surprised when the lady sitting near us helped explain the context. We were watching a club match between her son’s team, visiting from the beach suburb of Glenelg, and playing against the home team, who was affiliated with the University of Adelaide. This was the higher tier of players, while the lower tier was playing on a different field in the background. We were shocked at how long the cricket games last, often from 10:00am to 5:30pm. Not only did she cheer on her son’s team, but she also worked as an usher for the professional games at the Adelaide Oval. From the way she described the team members and her involvement with the matches, we realized she was essentially a “cricket mom” and completely dedicated to the game. It was a funny and wholesome experience – yet another example of the Aussie friendliness. Finally we had a chance to settle into the AirBNB. It was located on a side street in the charming North Adelaide suburb, accessed by a little gate. Across the street was a pleasant café with water misters, live music, and dogs. We had a pasta dinner with more of the bread and truffle spread. It was finally time for our wine tasting day in the Barossa Valley! We walked to the pickup point at a hotel downtown, avoiding a few unsavory characters around the periphery. Soon our shuttle arrived. The driver was a charismatic and funny lady named Bronnie, who explained the basics of the Barossa Valley on the hour-long drive. The tour was a clever design that allowed you to choose 3-4 wineries out of a dozen or so options, as long as you visited them in a certain order. We chatted with a solo traveler named Henry, who had just started an engineering job in Adelaide a week prior. We already knew which 3 wineries we were going to visit, thanks to Rachel’s proactive planning. We had initially been interested in wine tasting at another region called the McLaren Vale, but she found that tour temporarily wasn’t running due to a bike race event. Rachel had booked the Barossa van tickets, researched the winery options, and made tasting appointments well in advance. Thanks to her prep work, we got to relax and enjoy the day. The first stop was Rusden, a smaller winery with a youthful defiance of the entrenched wine culture. The tasting menu had two sides, each with a dozen options. We asked if there was a pre-set tasting flight; the host said we could try as many as we liked before the van returned. The wines all had a quirky name, which made them easier to remember. The whites included “Chasing Daises” and “Poco Loco,” while the reds included “Driftsand,” “School Days,” and “Black Guts.” The host explained the wines succinctly, and was ready with the next pour promptly after we finished the last. We probably tried 7-8, and all were very good. Even the heavier reds had a smooth finish, potentially due to the open-air fermentation process. It was also great value, as they waved the tasting fees with the purchase of two reasonably-priced bottles. We all agreed it was one of the best wine tasting experiences we’d ever had. The second stop was Yalumba, one of the historical wineries, founded in the late 1800s using gold rush money. The property was gorgeous, with a colorful stone castle and vibrant lawns. We tried the “Best of Barossa” flight with four reds. The first was an excellent grenache, and the fan favorite. The second was a syrah, and the third was a shiraz, with the difference being the growing climate (cooler for the syrah). The last was an interesting blend that wasn’t for me. The tasting was only one part of the Yalumba booking – Rachel also arranged a picnic lunch! We were handed two large baskets, referred to as “hampers,” allowed to choose two bottles of wine, and then let loose on the property. We staked out a spot in front of the castle building, laid out the blankets, and opened the bottle of grenache. In the hampers, there were multiple boxes of goodies, including vegan charcuterie and plenty of classic cheese and meat for yours truly. We chowed down, under a little time pressure, but still enjoying the picnic atmosphere. The third stop was a modern and edgy winery called First Stop. It was in an industrial building with funny sculptures like an angel pouring wine, a life-size cow, and an aquarium tank under the main bar. Our host was a friendly fellow named Nigel who pulled up a chair and sat with us while explaining and pouring the wines. Like Rusden, it was a generous flight that included 6-7 pours, starting with sparkling wine. As we progressed to the reds, we tried their signature wine, a shiraz called Mother’s Milk. Nigel even treated us to a pour of a more expensive aged red. I wish I could remember everything that we tried. On the third tasting, it was hard to keep track! I think one of them was a grenache with a matador on the label. In any case, Nigel’s laid back conversation and the reasonable prices made it another hit. The drive back was long and sunny, so naturally I dozed off for a bit. When I woke up, my stomach was hurting and continued to hurt for the next day. A small price to pay for an incredible day of tasting.
Although the visit to Adelaide and Barossa was a short chapter in the trip, it was a refreshing change of pace. We got to put on the nicer clothes hiding at the bottom of the suitcase, and enjoy a beautiful sunny day in a world-renowned wine region. And now whenever we see Barossa wines in the store, we'll think of our splendid day together!
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All of our flights within Australia were with Jetstar, which had fairly strict luggage weight requirements. At the Sydney airport, we checked the weight of our bags using a scale by the check-in area, and moved items between them. The goal was to get the larger ones below 20kg and the carry-ons below 7kg. Between the four of us, there were 3 checked bags and 8 carryon bags. We successfully got everything close enough to the limits. One of perks of traveling with other seasoned travelers was going into an airport lounge together. The others all had access, and brought me as a guest. I enjoyed a few snacks including a sandwich and a pre-packaged lamington. The flight from Sydney to Cairns was about 3 hours, and there were some good views of Botany Bay during the takeoff. As we descended into Cairns, the tropical mountains and snaking rivers of the Atherton Tablelands appeared through the clouds. We took an Uber to our AirBNB, an upstairs unit in a humble set of vacation rentals, about 20 minutes walking distance from the center of town. A small office on the ground floor served as the reception, and we rang the bell to summon the host couple from the back. The husband, a balding gentleman with a soft voice and a European-Australian accent, took us up to the room and used a map to explain the local geography. The apartment was large but dingy. The host pointed out a crack in the wall above the kitchen sink that had leaked during the recent Cyclone Jasper, and complained that it would be months until he could get a plumber to properly fix the roof drainage, due to the high demand. Cairns was hot and tropical, and I was already feeling overheated from the morning sun in Bondi. We turned the two AC units to full blast, but the room still felt warm several hours later. While I sweltered and rehydrated, Val and Rachel headed into town, exploring the coastal walkway and picking up groceries. Dinner was a tasty salad that included edamame, mango, cucumber, and sriracha. Val was already accustomed to a tropical climate, and let the rest of us have the cooler main bedroom while she stayed in the warmer living room bed. I got a surprisingly good night’s sleep. The next day was our big day on the Great Barrier Reef. We were up and out the door before 7:00am, and walked to the Reef Fleet Terminal to find the boat. The morning skies along the coastal walk were gorgeous, especially with the green mountains in the background. Our tour company was called Passions of Paradise, and they directed us to their catamaran amidst the flurry of morning cruises. Before each departure, the crew took a detailed headcount to make sure no one was left behind. My understanding is there was a past incident where some tourists had died after being left behind in the reef. A newer crew member struggled to get a count that matched their more experienced colleague and had to repeat the exercise several times, to the skipper’s chagrin. We took a spot on the second story sun deck, which had a nice breeze as the boat picked up speed. The company offered snacks and coffee during the 2 hour journey to the reef. One of the friendly crew members, a Canadian named Kennedy who was on a working holiday, came over and answered our questions about the jellyfish in a way that was detailed and reassuring. Thankfully, the most dangerous jellies were not in the area we were visiting. We reached the first snorkeling stop of the day. The scuba divers on board entered the water while we prepared our snorkeling gear. The tour provided stinger suits, to protect from the floating jellyfish. We were extremely pleased that the suits covered our necks, heads, and hands. The masks and fins were also good quality, and anti-fog solution was provided near the launch ramp. They even had waist buoys to make the swimming part easier for anyone who wanted one. I hadn’t been snorkeling in at least 10 years, and I was definitely nervous. But once I was in the water and could see the ocean below, it wasn’t too scary. It really helped to have fins, and a snorkel that worked well. A spotter on the back of the boat provided some additional comfort, as they were keeping an eye on the ocean conditions and anyone in distress. There were some guides in the water too, but we mostly explored as a group of four. The reef was astounding! There were so many tropical fish, including large schools of black and white striped fish just an arm’s reach away. The water visibility was excellent, and the variety of coral was difficult to process. We saw spiky coral, fan-shaped coral, brain coral, wavy coral, cauliflower coral, boulder coral, and so many other shapes. Many were close enough that we had to be careful not to bump them with our fins. In some of the deeper areas, Val dove below the surface to get a closer look. (the underwater photos below are screenshots from my GoPro videos) As we circled the reef, we spotted more and more fish. The turquoise parrotfish nibbled at the edges of the coral, the elaborate-patterned triggerfish skirted the lower depths. We saw a sea turtle briefly, but it was moving away. Many of the fish, like the butterfly, racoon, and angel fish, were familiar from Hawaii. A huge Maori wrasse was a highlight. Unfortunately, the water was also filled with jellyfish. We encountered dozens of these transparent floaters at eye-level, trying to dodge them to the best of our ability. The stinger suits were a godsend. After the first session, we got back on board, shed the stinger suits, and had a buffet lunch. The food was surprisingly good, and included a few cold salads and warm curries and pasta. They even had a secret vegan option that was brought out specially for Rachel and Val. The second snorkeling stop, called the Three Sisters, was even more dazzling than the first. The coral was off-the charts beautiful. We saw clownfish hiding in an anemone, a grumpy looking pufferfish, a light-colored ray commuting along the sea floor, and another sea turtle. There were large schools of blue and silver striped fish and a cluster of yellow striped sweetlips. Done with snorkeling for the day, we kicked back on the sun deck with a refreshing beer in hand. It was the perfect temperature, and a great combination of the post-reef high and summer vacation. On the return journey, one of the marine biologist guides gave a scientific presentation on the reef. He explained the coral lifecycle, what coral bleaching actually means (it’s the release of symbiotic algae, and doesn’t equate to coral death), and some of the ongoing efforts to replenish the reef using coral grafts. It was very informative and balanced, and also highlighted the company’s investment in other environmental programs like turtle rescue and rainforest conservation. The Great Barrier Reef totally lived up the hype. It was a feast for the eyes, to the point of being difficult to fully absorb its complex beauty. The quantity and variety of fish far exceeded what I remember in Hawaii many years before. And to think we only saw 2 of the ~30 different snorkeling spots that are accessible from Cairns, let alone the hundreds off the entire East Coast. The existential threat of the jellyfish didn’t stop us from enjoying the day, but I can see why people recommend visiting outside of stinger season. Having good weather and a fantastic tour company were the icing on the cake. After the big day, we walked back to the AirBNB and had poke bowls for dinner, including some delicious mango and a special sauce that Val whipped up. Having a creative vegan chef in the group inject some new flavors into our diet was a morale boost to everyone! The next day ended up being a rest day. Our original plan was a day trip to Daintree, an ancient rainforest and the other main draw near Cairns. Unfortunately, the key parts of Daintree were still closed due to cyclone damage, and we had to cancel. But it was nice to have a chance to recover. We had pancakes for breakfast, took care of some travel planning, and reviewed GoPro footage from the reef. A few tropical rainstorms hit, loud enough that we stuck our heads outside to convince ourselves it was actually rain making all the noise. The AC had been running non-stop since we arrived, and had finally reached a cold equilibrium. In the evening, I went on a short walk with Vince. Lots of critters were active at dusk, including the local fruit bats, referred to as “flying foxes.” We could see them flying around the town, and clambering through the treetops. There was also a loud frog, its throat puffing up comically with each croak. On our third day in Cairns, we divided and conquered. Val and Rachel opted for another day on the reef, while Vince and I stayed in town and went to the aquarium and fruit market. The Cairns Aquarium impressed the two of us, as it included a lot more than just the Barrier Reef. Our visit was timed perfectly, as we caught a series of four back-to-back guided talks. The first was at the freshwater exhibit, showcasing the marine life in the river ecosystems of Daintree. The energetic presentation explained the animals’ amazing adaptations to river and ocean life. The mangrove jacks could regulate their bodies and survive in both freshwater and saltwater. The barramundi were born as males, and changed to females later in their lifecycle after reaching the ocean. The enormous stingrays kept their young in a pouch, only separating when the young ray was 60% of the adult’s body size. The fat-bellied catfish stayed upstream during the dry season, surviving the lower water levels and higher temperatures by breathing air through a lung. The second talk was about the Great Barrier Reef at a two-story tank. The guide pointed out some of the unique species like the bump-headed Maori wrasse, the large fish that we saw during our snorkel outing. The talk coincided with feeding time, including a special placemat for the stingrays, which can’t eat and swim at the same time. The third talk was about sharks and rays, at the largest exhibit. There were some familiar animals like reef sharks and cow-nosed rays, but there were also some really dazzling species. The enormous shovel-nosed rays had three shark-like fins. The even-larger honeycomb rays and leopard sharks had beautiful patterns. The presenter did an excellent job of explaining the sharks’ unique role as the “doctors” of the ecosystem – removing diseased and injured animals from the population. She described in detail the shark’s senses, like smelling copper from fish blood and electrical pulses from muscles, and how a surfer might be perceived as behaving like a distressed fish. Statistics about shark attacks were put into context with other freak incidents, like dying from a falling coconut, to help dispel the sharks’ deadly reputation. Feeding time including watching the sharks pull their food off a pike, like a giant kebab. A glass tunnel brought us to the fourth presentation, this one more general. The guide showed us how to spot a sleeping stingray – they take micronaps, going into cruise control for a few seconds. She also talked about the effects of plastic pollution and some of the aquarium’s wildlife rescue efforts. We backtracked to see a few of the exhibits that we breezed by in the morning. A section on the dangers of the reef included lionfish, moray eels, and to our surprise, an actual stonefish – the most deadly fish in the world, with venom that can kill a person in 3 minutes. There were also some amazing reptiles, including a juvenile croc, monitor lizards jumping between branches, agile snakes swimming through pools of water, long-necked turtles, and some enormous crabs and crayfish. From the aquarium, we walked to the Rusty’s Market for lunch. We snacked our way through, starting with some idly and curry from a Keralan food truck. The owner was teaching his son how to take orders, which was really cute, but the food was a little overpriced. We also had some red bean bao and an acaí bowl. The highlight of the market was the abundance of fresh, tropical fruit. It was amazing to see fruit that I had only encountered in Asian or Latin America all under one roof. They had dragonfruit, jackfruit, passionfruit, soursop (guanábana), lychee, pineapple, mango, papaya, and more. I continued browsing through the shops of downtown Cairns on my own, while Vince headed back to the apartment. My GoPro SD card was out of memory, bursting at the seams with New Zealand and Australia footage. I stopped by a diving camera store, enjoying the unique aquatic camera equipment like snorkel masks with GoPro attachments and special underwater lens filters. I asked the owner how business was going after the cyclone, and he laughed it off saying the real measure of a severe storm was whether the leaves were blown off the trees. Apparently the leaves were still attached, and sales of GoPros were still going strong. I wasn’t sure if that meant Cairns was less impacted than other parts of Queensland, or if it was a touch of Aussie bravado. After adding a few postcards to my collection, I headed back to the apartment. Soon after, Rachel and Val also returned from their second day on the reef. I sipped on a local beer called Coral Sea while listening to their stories. Their morning was a bit stormier with less water clarity, but they managed to spot several “bigger” animals including a reef shark and a stingray. In the end, all four of us had a second adventure that complemented our initial snorkeling excursion. During our last dinner and breakfast, tried to polish off the leftovers, including a can of corn kernels (in "Caans" no less!) We also made progress on the tropical fruits from Rusty’s Market. We polished off the dragonfruit and papaya, tucked away a passionfruit for later, and hopped into our Uber to the airport. Check-in and security went smoothly, and soon we boarded our flight to Adelaide.
To close, here are some of Val's incredible photos from the second GBR day. After several weeks on the move, we finally got to stay in one place for 6 consecutive nights. We stayed in the popular beach destination of Bondi, one of the outer suburbs of Sydney. Our AirBNB was relatively new, meaning it had fewer reviews when Vincent booked it, but it ended up being a great choice. It had an antique charm, with a brick archway at the entrance of the kitchen and a backsplash with blue and white tiles. Layered on were some modern touches, including numerous houseplants, board games, and beach accessories, like a cooler, boogie boards, and a wall photo of the Bondi Icebergs swimming pool. As with any place, there were a few drawbacks, including street noise. The location was right on busy Bondi Road, which was convenient for catching buses but made the apartment feel more public. We also had to close the windows at night to avoid uninvited guests like moths, spiders, and cockroaches. The first day was a chill day. I walked to the Woolworth’s for groceries, spilling half a tub of blueberries in the self-checkout area in the process. I was craving Mexican food, so I made burritos for dinner. The store had some Bondi brand mango seltzer that felt extremely appropriate for the occasion. The second and third days were choose-your-own-adventure days. Rachel got to catch up with her mentor, complete some errands, and sample a few acai bowls. Vince made tons of progress on his travel planning. And I enjoyed two nice days of exploring, one in Bondi and one in downtown Sydney. The walk I did in Bondi was a coastal trail from Bondi Beach to Coogee Beach, one of the signature Sydney hikes. It was an overcast day, so the beaches weren’t as vibrant, but it was better conditions for walking the 7-mile loop. The trail connected a whole series of beaches, largely similar in terrain but each with their own personality. The path was paved, with staircases and ramps that dipped down into each cove. Lots of people were out enjoying the day, including surfers, dog-walkers, volleyball players, and runners. The crowds (and people-watching potential) thinned out as trail got father from Bondi. Several beaches had swimming pools built into the rocks adjacent to the sand beach, the most famous being the Bondi Icebergs. The pools were a unique feature of the human landscape, and a reminder that swimming at Australian beaches is dangerous enough to merit a safer alternative. For the swimmers who braved the ocean water, it was required to swim between the red and yellow flags. It was a bit strange to see the swimmers concentrated in a narrow sliver of water on an otherwise spacious beach. On the other hand, the rebellious surfers were usually spread out well beyond the flags, chasing the best waves. The lifeguards used megaphones and attempted to corral everyone towards the flags, with modest success. On the way back, I took a shortcut through the neighborhood, and spotted some beautiful rainbow parrots. We had a light salad for dinner, perfect for the summer weather. I started my jam-packed Sydney outing with a walk to the nearest metro station, and caught a train to Martin Place. It was near the Sydney Hospital, a beautiful brick building with a fountain and a famous statue of a pig that was popular with the tourists. The giant spider sculpture at the entrance of the Art Gallery of New South Wales was already a familiar landmark, as the queue for New Year’s Eve had gone underneath it. This time I got to stop and enjoy the artwork, including an entire wing featuring Aboriginal artists. The gallery had a wonderful selection, including paintings with traditional abstract designs featuring rows of dots and waves, as well as other media like weavings, photographs, sculptures, and a neon sign. My favorite was an enormous canvas with an optical illusion of repeated waves that seemed alive and moving. Worth a brief stop was the Hyde Barracks, an old stone building where convicts lived in close quarters and worked in grueling labor gangs. The museum had an unusual multimedia approach, with a headset that provided information based on location proximity to the exhibits. A great concept, but it frequently cut off the narration when I wandered just a step too far. I meandered past the St. James church into the bustling CBD. An international breakdancing group had a large crowd on a main pedestrian street, right below the Sydney Tower. By chance, I found the Sydney Lego store, which had a special Australian display: a giant gum tree filled with cute animals like a koala, cockatoo, kookaburra, and bat. They also had a wall-sized Lego mosaic of the Opera House. On my way to the Darling Harbor, I cut through the Strand, an elegant Victorian shopping arcade with fine wares like watches and chocolates. I stopped for lunch at a seafood restaurant along the King Street Wharf and was lucky to get a seat with a view of the water. I chowed down on a grilled tuna burger from the budget menu, served in a black bun, and watched the flow of pedestrians. When I rejoined this flow, I crossed to the other side of the Darling Harbor and headed to the Maritime Museum. It had some modest indoor exhibits, but the real draw was the fleet of ship replicas floating on the water. I got a closer look at the HMB Endeavor, Captain Cook’s ship, that I had been eyeing from my lunch spot. I learned that this was no ordinary replica – it was fully functional, and had sailed around the world several times! The parade of hits just kept on coming. I strolled through some amazing pedestrian and family friendly areas, including public fountains with lots of kids splashing around, a beautiful convention center, and a Chinese Friendship garden with colorful koi. An old rail line had been converted into a pedestrian pathway, and it passed by a Frank Geary building nicknamed the crumpled paper bag. Half fruit market and half flea market, the Paddy’s Market was an indoor labyrinth of stalls that were packed from floor to ceiling with quality produce and tacky souvenirs. It was a bombardment of beach towels, t-shirts, and distinctly Australian goods like leather fedoras and crocodile claw backscratchers. Upon exiting the maze, I found myself in Chinatown on a tree-lined walkway where the Friday night market was just setting up. I had the chance to try dragon beard candy, a bird’s nest of chewy cornstarch fibers filled with peanuts and sesame. Since I was their first customer, I got to see the whole process of making the candy. It started with a thick loop, which was repeatedly stretched and looped over itself, creating thinner and thinner fibers. After this amazing day, I finally headed back to the metro station. Overall, the ambience in Sydney was relaxed with accessible and interesting things to do. All three museums that I visited were free of charge, and there was lots of public park space for everyone to enjoy. It was just so fun walking around, with an unexpected delight around each corner. While I was out exploring Sydney, Rachel and Vince were greeting Val at the airport with a hilarious handmade sign, “WELCOME TO AUS VAL,” decorated with stickers of Australian animals. We all rendezvoused at the place in Bondi, excited to start the long-awaited siblings trip. We started with a short walk down to Bondi, to the classic view overlooking the beach and the Icebergs pool. Later, we had a curry dinner and caught up with Val at the place. The next day, the four of us strolled through the Bondi area again, starting with a Saturday farmer’s market. There was a cute dog parking area, and we sampled some excellent gazpacho and harissa. We hiked a portion of the coastal trail to Bronte Beach, where an attempt to get in the water was thwarted by the conditions. The lifeguards said that four people had been stung by jellyfish in the last 30 minutes. We returned to the main part of Bondi for acai bowls and relaxing on the sand. For dinner, we made chickpeas, couscous, and a Greek salad. For breakfast, Val treated us to chickpea flour omelets, a hearty and healthy meal that was an instant fan favorite. The Chickpea King (Vince) was over the moon. Now that we had initiated Val into vacation mode with our Bondi day, we headed to downtown Sydney for a day of classic sightseeing. We started at the Rocks Market, full of beautiful crafts. We particularly liked the prints from a photographer named Matt Pearson, and visited his gallery down the street. Of course, there were lots of food options, and we ate underneath the Harbor Bridge with a view of a prosecco cart and the Opera House. I had some Asian inspired pastries from a bakery called Tenacious, including a kimchi roll and a ham croissant. It was super windy, and the flakes of the croissant ended up everywhere, including in my iced latte and on Rachel. The rest of the crew had some tasty dumplings and vegan gelato. From underneath the bridge, we backtracked through the Rocks neighborhood and eventually made it on top of the bridge. At the corners of the bridge are four towers called pylons, which are mainly decorative in purpose. One had a viewing platform that you can climb for a small admission, and it was totally worth it. The harbor was alive with whizzing ferries, showy jetboats, pointy sailboats, and a stray historical replica. On their way into the Circular Quay, the boats disappeared behind an imposing Carnival cruise ship, which set sail later in the afternoon. Tour groups laden with safety gear climbed the catwalks on the bridge, while a steady stream of cars, buses, and trains passed below. It was a beautiful view on a beautiful day. We had tickets to a 5:00pm performance at the Sydney Opera House, a short but satisfying sampler of famous arias from classic operas. It was in the Joan Sutherland theater, a modern and comfortable venue with four tiers of opera boxes. The hilarious piano accompanist acted as the MC and framed each aria with a perfect dose of comedy and context. We recognized a few tunes from Carmen. The show ended on a high note with a cheerful song from La Traviata, including some audience participation. As good as the performance was, the highlight for me was walking around the inside of the building. The stylish lobbies had amazing natural light from the tall windows, with radiating arches that formed the shape of the iconic sails. The front lobby even had a view of the Sydney skyline. After the show, we took the bus back to Bondi and could see dozens of bats flying above. We got back on the later side, but we had a nice pesto pasta dinner. To explore outside of the city center, we took a day trip to the Manly Beach area on the north side of the Sydney harbor. After crossing the bridge by bus, we started a hike that followed the coastline from the Spit into the town of Manly. The trail traversed jungles, beaches, and bluffs with good views of the water. Numerous lizards called water dragons were hiding along the way. They had interesting strips and could move quickly when running away. A curious one approached our lunch spot, so we relocated. It proceeded to nibble on tidbits of chickpeas that had fallen on the ground. We also saw some bush turkeys, which had both red and yellow colors on their necks. A few people we met on the trail volunteered some basic info about the water dragons and bush turkeys, which was unexpected and helpful. A little rain didn’t deter us, and it was warm enough that the drops were refreshing. We made it to Manly and stopped at an info site for details on the return ferries. It turned out they actually ran very regularly. The lady went above and beyond, giving us ideas on things to do in the area while effortlessly dishing out jokes and taking a jab at San Francisco. We wandered for a bit, peeking at restaurants, and settled on a spot where we could get a poke bowl for my lunch and acai bowls for everyone else. The rain subsided a bit, so we ventured onto Manly Beach. Unfortunately, it was closed to swimmers and not very inviting on a stormy day. A downpour started and we scurried to the safety of the covered shopping area. The convenient ferry didn’t require a ticket, just a tap of the credit card. It took us back to the Circular Quay where we caught the 333 bus back to Bondi Beach. Val adapted her chickpea omelets into an evening meal, which was a nice way to use up ingredients before checking out the next morning. The first leg of the siblings trip was ending, but more "Great" places were in store!
One of the anchors of our Australia trip was being in Sydney for New Year’s Eve. As you can imagine, hotel prices were quite high. Vince’s clever strategy was spending 2 nights at an airport hotel away from the city center, then going to the Blue Mountains for the first 2 nights of the new year. Thanks to Sydney’s excellent public transportation, it was both feasible and easy to get between these places, enabling us to keep the costs down while enjoying the fireworks. The flight from Hobart to Sydney was a short 1.5 hours, and the Uber ride to the hotel was a short 10 minutes. Still, we were tired from our long day at the MONA. We requested a blanket from the hotel to use as a picnic blanket, and then went to bed. Our plan for viewing fireworks was to line up early and get into the Botanical Gardens, which were facing the Opera House and harbor. This was the first year that the city of Sydney was making several prime viewing areas free to the public, so there was no precedent on how early was sufficient to get in. The queue was available from 7:00am and the gates closed at 11:00am, which gave us a rough timeframe. We had breakfast at the hotel, picked up groceries for lunch, took the metro into the city center, and were in line by 8:30am. The event logistics were impressively organized. For the morning queue, a large grass field was spray painted with orderly rows, including space for people to get in and out. The bags were inspected by security, and guards were present throughout the gardens. There were ample bathrooms and a whole row of food vendors. The area was capped at 10,500 people, so once we staked our picnic spot, we didn’t have to worry about latecomers trying to squeeze in. The 15.5 hour wait was grueling. It was comfortable enough on the blanket, but there was still lots of foot traffic and portable speakers with clashing music. Thankfully the temperature was cool and the sky was overcast, so we didn’t have to worry about roasting. We napped, played cards, read, and took turns stretching our legs to walk around the grounds. Ibises roamed throughout the park, pecking the grass with their long beaks, and a possum was napping in the nook of a tree. Rachel got us some spiffy glowstick accessories, including a hat and glasses. There was a disappointing amount of tree cover that obscured the view of the harbor, and later, the fireworks. The opera house was only visible from a few specific vantage points, which were teeming. When the first round of fireworks went off at 9:00pm for the Welcome to Australia ceremony, we couldn’t really see them from the blanket. However, we could see lots of enormous bats flying between the trees, especially when the fireworks startled them out of their roosts. As it got closer to midnight, we stood in one of the crowded areas with the better view. Some obnoxious French people were standing on benches, chanting, and a fight almost broke out amongst them. Finally, the fireworks began. There were multiple launch sites all around the harbor, and the show was expertly synchronized. The bridge was a central character, featuring lights of its own, plus fireworks launched off the top and sides. The Opera House and fleet of boats on the water were cast with dazzling lights – pink, blue, white, and gold. It took about 1.5 hours to get back to the hotel. The metro was understandably packed, and we barely got onto the second one. One of the neat things about the Sydney metro was that you could tag on and tag off with a normal credit card – no special city card needed. We skirted around the edge of a dark park, with more bats in the trees. All things considered, it was a smooth getaway. The hotel had a large breakfast buffet, a treat after so many oatmeal and toast mornings. We navigated our bags to the nearest metro station and rode into Sydney’s central station. I ordered an iced latte, which was lost in the flurry of orders, and had to ask for it again. We boarded the train to the Blue Mountains, which had 2-story cars but no luggage storage areas. After painfully squeezing through several narrow staircases and aisles, we gave up and put our large suitcases on seats. The train quickly navigated out of the Sydney suburbs. It slowed its speed as we entered the bushland, getting us to Katoomba in under 2 hours. Our AirBNB was a 5-minute walk, a cottage obscured by a perimeter of plants and dense front garden. The cleaner was still finishing up, so we dropped our bags and doubled back into town. We ate lunch at a Thai restaurant, a nice respite. One grocery run later, and we were ready to relax for the evening. Dinner was our now-usual pasta dinner, including lentil-based penne, mushrooms, spinach, and red sauce. I opened a bottle of red wine from Barossa with a wombat on the label. The wifi router was accidentally unplugged, and we spent an hour trying to get the connection back. The next day, the others stayed at the AirBNB and rested while I went for a hiking expedition. I caught a bus from downtown to the Three Sisters Lookout. The bus was absolutely packed. I was lucky to get onboard, and also lucky to squeeze my way to the door at my stop. When I arrived, the view was completely obscured with a blanket of fog. I went into the visitor center to get the trail status of a hike that I had in mind. The ranger gave me detailed instructions for several related hikes, marking the detours and approximate times in an intense briefing. I stuck to my guns and did the loop that I originally had in mind: the Dardanelles Pass Loop trail. The trail started out with a wide and paved walkway down to a lookout point by the Three Sisters, an iconic set of three rock towers. The trail quickly morphed into a set of twisting, steep, and uneven steps called the Giant Staircase. The path descended the cliff face right next to the first “sister.” It was often only wide enough for one person at a time, despite being a two-way path. Several groups looked at the trail and decided to turn around – justifiably so. It was humid, and I was sweating even on the downhill. I took it slow, which also gave time to enjoy the views. The vastness of the sandstone plateaus and basins, slowly becoming visible as the fog dissipated, was breathtaking. The Giant Staircase had taken me down into the basin, where the cliffs merged with the fern-filled forest. The forest echoed with the caws of cockatoos, the trickle of waterfalls, and loudly spoken Portuguese from the group ahead of me. After getting ahead of them, I enjoyed the tranquility of this lush green environment, stopping occasionally to pick up on the subtle movements of the fantails and parrots camouflaged in the treetops. The ascent was more forgiving than the Giant Staircase, with fewer people and more metal steps. Having regained all of the elevation, the views were excellent. I had an entire viewing platform to myself, a front row seat to the blue haze that gives the Blue Mountains their name. It’s believed that the blue haze is caused by eucalyptus oils in the air that scatter the light. The next phase of the hike followed the Prince Henry Cliff Walk along the edge of the plateau. There were regularly spaced lookouts, some better than others, but a nice excuse to stop and admire the scenery. I was hoping to spot a lyrebird, as they’re common in the area, and was thrilled when I heard one in the brush! The lyrebird has an elegant tail, a bit like a peacock’s, but with translucent feathers in the middle of the fan. The curvature of the outer, darker feathers resembles their namesake musical instrument. But it just so happens they are musicians too – they have a wide vocal range and can imitate other birdcalls and human sounds. Through my binoculars, I watched one browse in the soil, fluff its wings, and shake its tail at a rival. I arrived back at the visitor center, and the Three Sisters were now visible from the viewing platform. They were majestic, and better appreciated from this higher angle, compared to the low angle from the Giant Staircase. I fought my way onto the bus again, listening to an overly-eager local tell a tourist their views on climate change. I stopped at Woolworth’s for a few goodies, including an ice cream that really hit the spot on this hot, post-hike afternoon. Outside the store, a lady walked by with a large snake around her neck, on the way to the pet store. It started pouring a minute before I made it back to the cottage. Rachel and Vince made dinner, including sweet potatoes, broccoli, and tempeh. I finished the wombat wine and had a nice evening of journaling.
Checkout the next morning was smooth. We waited at the train station on a bench in the hot sun. The person sleeping on the bench behind us woke up, tried to strike up a conversation by mumbling something about enjoying the journey in life, then wandered off. The train was emptier today, and the skies clearer as we headed back to Sydney. Another blog post that’s going to cover a lot of ground – since we ourselves covered a lot of ground in just a week! Welcome to our Tasmanian road trip adventure. Before we begin, a quick visual on the route. The flights that Vincent and Rachel had booked were an arrival into Launceston and a departure out of Hobart. Normally we’d just book a one-way rental car, but since I was already in Hobart, we had the option of a round trip. By adding an extra leg (from Hobart to Launceston) this meant I could pick them up at the airport when they arrived on Christmas Eve, when things might be closed. At least, that was the idea. The rental car was a white Kia Rio. I was happy to be in a compact car again, since I’m accustomed to the dimensions, but the accelerator was quite lacking. After picking it up in Hobart, I started the drive to Launceston and made two stops along the way. The first stop was at the Bonorong Wildlife Sanctuary, about 30 minutes from Hobart. During check-in, I was handed a bag of kangaroo food, given some basic instructions on feeding them, then let loose in the sanctuary. I timed my visit with one of the guided tours, which turned out to be really insightful. The guide started by introducing us to a 109-year-old sulfur-crested cockatoo named Fred, one of the oldest birds in the world. Though Fred was quiet in front of the crowd, he apparently has an Australian accent from his original owner, who left Fred to the sanctuary in his will. The way that Fred fanned the yellow feathers on the top of his head was entertaining – quite spry for an old gentleman. Beside the enclosure was a letter from the queen, congratulating Fred on his 100th birthday. The guide, whose hair was now dyed black, said that Fred had a bias against blondes. The tour also included a stop at the animal hospital, where the sanctuary employs a staff of specialized veterinarians to assess and treat the injured animals as they come in. Tasmania is unfortunately considered the roadkill capital of the world, and when ordinary civilians find animals in distress, Bonorong is one of the places who will respond to the call. The hospital had a one-way glass wall showing the operating table and instruments. Though the room was empty at the time, there was a screen with a list of the day’s patients including an echidna, several birds, and several reptiles. Next up was a wombat that nibbled on the guide’s belt while she told us about the species. Wombats have a thick bone on their backside that works as a defense mechanism. When a predator chases the wombat into its hole, it uses its backside to crush the predator against the roof of the tunnel. Wombats also have square poo, allowing them to be placed by the entrances to their tunnels as markers. One more fun fact was that wombats go through a major personality change at about 2 years of age, and will reject their human caretakers like rebellious teenagers. This means that wombats can be successfully released into the wild even after being accustomed to humans in their early years. The final portion of the guided tour was the Tasmanian Devils, an animal named by early explorers for their reflective eyes and translucent red ears when seen at night. The devils are misunderstood, but still raise a few eyebrows. They have amazing jaw strength for their size and can eat 30% of their body weight in 30 minutes. They’re mainly scavengers, rather than hunters, and end up in dangerous situations when scavenging alongside the road. The population was almost wiped out by a disease that caused facial tumors, with a 100% mortality rate due to starvation. Despite these existential threats, the animals themselves were so cute! Some were sprawled out on their bellies in the sun, others were awkwardly galloping around. But they are apparently vicious when mating season comes around. The male will guard the entrance to the den where the female is resting, and have brutal fights with competitors, leading to many battle scars. Inside the den, the newborn devils fight for one of the four nursing spots. Not an easy life. The sanctuary had lots of other animals too. Blue-tongued lizards, tawny frogmouth owls, parrots, kookaburras, echidnas, and emus. It was the kangaroos that stole the show. There were a hundred or so, scattered around an open space in the center of the sanctuary. Since everyone had a bag of food, they were very well fed. Several that I approached didn’t seem to be hungry at all. However, there were still a few takers! It was fun to feel their tongues scoop up the mix of grains from my palm. I had never seen one up close before, and they were amazing. The fluffy ears, the sleek claws, the goofy way they crawl on all fours, or flop down on the ground. Since it was allowed, I even gave one a neck rub. (They don’t like touching on their backs or tails, an instruction which several other guests had clearly missed.) My favorite moment was an Indian parent telling their small child not to turn their back on a large kangaroo, as if it was some kind of dangerous animal. Quite the opposite! The ones at the sanctuary were super mellow around people. On the way out of the kangaroo area, I went back to the hospital to watch the video reel with “patient stories.” I loved seeing the footage of a Tasmanian devil treated with a tiny little leg cast, making a full recovery. The videos went into surprising detail – explaining the catheters for intubating large birds, how to customize anesthesia masks for animals with different face shapes, and how to take x-rays of an echidna. Maybe they need a medical device engineer? Fun fact, echidnas are so good at getting out of boxes that they’re transported in containers with at least four latches. Bonorong was absolutely worth the visit. I got a coffee from their small café, which was entirely plant-based, and continued the drive. I stopped for lunch in the historic town of Ross, checking out the old stone bridge and trying their famous scallop pies. I was pleasantly surprised to find a yellow curry sauce was the base for the filling. The road to Launceston was easy to navigate with ample passing lanes and a solid fence in the median. The car’s accelerator struggled up the hill into the Riverside neighborhood, which was a rural suburb of Launceston. I checked into the AirBNB, a beautiful home with a large garden, and relaxed for a bit. Catching me totally by surprise was a wild echidna, perfectly visible through the living room window, browsing through the soil just 10 or 15 feet away from the house. While I watched in awe, a wallaby went zooming by in broad daylight. I was very excited to be spending 3 nights there. I picked up some groceries at the local Woolworth’s, made a pasta dinner, and had a lamington from the bakery in Ross for a Christmas Eve dessert. Coordinating with Vince and Rachel, I learned they made it from Uluru to Melbourne, but were stranded there due to several weather-related flight delays. Rather than picking them up at the airport as planned, they took an Uber when they arrived in the middle of the night. Before bed, I went outside at dusk and watched the wallabies in the yard. It was a little eerie being at this rural house by myself at night. A creepy spider right by the front door, the gong-like croaks of the frogs, and the maniacal laughter of the kookaburras really did not help. I went back inside. The first day of our reunion was a rest day that coincided with Christmas. We had the chance to talk to loved ones back home, catch up on sleep, laundry, journaling, and trip planning. The wildlife was a delightful distraction. We saw another echidna, several wallabies including one with a joey in the pouch, and two pademelons (like a wallaby, but smaller). Many sightings were just outside the window! It was a nature lover’s treat. We watched the wallabies use their T-rex arms to pull down tree branches, and shake their floppy ears. Later on, we saw the joey hopping around independently, having emerged from the pouch – a Christmas joey! We went for a nice walk in the neighborhood, saying hello to some friendly pet donkeys in an enclosure. Vincent attempted to speak their language with a convincing bray. In response, the horse next door let out a perfectly timed neigh that sounded exactly like a laugh. After a good laugh ourselves, we joked that if anyone was bitten by the donkey, we’d have to take them to the “Eee-Rrr.” On the walk, there were also nice views of the river, some magpies and cockatoos, and a few Christmas kangaroo lawn ornaments. For our Christmas meal, we had roasted pinkeye potatoes and cauliflower from the Hobart farmer’s market, plus carrots glazed with Bruny Island honey. We tried a low alcohol wine, a rose with <0.5% ABV. The special dessert of plant-based chocolate cake was decisively finished off. Our Boxing Day activity was an ambitious day trip to Cradle Mountain. We stopped by the rental car agency in Launceston to get Vincent added as a driver, and he really carried the day. It was 2 hours to the entrance of Cradle Mountain on challenging rural roads. The curves weren’t well marked with a suggested speed, and other drivers routinely strayed across the median as they went around. At least the scenery was great, with interesting forests and mountain views. At Cradle Mountain, we took a shuttle from the visitor center to Dove Lake. It was a popular park, but they encouraged people to hike the Dove Lake circuit counterclockwise which helped reduce congestion. The views of the lake were lovely, with reddish orange water along the shore and dark blue water in the distance. The pointy peaks of Cradle Mountain towered above, perfectly visible on this sunny day. We followed the well-maintained boardwalks around the perimeter of the lake. In pursuit of wombats, we took a connector trail from Dove Lake towards Ronny Creek and kept our eyes peeled. We weren’t entirely sure what we were looking for, but all three of us were intent on finding a wild wombat. Though the plants weren’t our focus, the setting itself was unique and worth the trek regardless of wildlife potential. As it turned out, the wombats were at the end of the trail in an open grassy area, with a crowd of tourists giving away their location. The first one we saw was grazing right below the boardwalk, chowing down just feet from the paparazzi, seemingly unfazed. It was like a giant gray teddy bear – much larger than the one I saw at Bonorong. We were totally thrilled with the one sighting, but ended up seeing several more, including a mother and little wombat in the distance. We crammed ourselves on the park shuttle and returned to the visitor center. I mistakenly got off at the wrong stop, but managed to get back on before the bus left. Right next to the National Park was a wildlife sanctuary called Devils @ Cradle that Rachel and Vince were interested in checking out. They had a much larger cohort of devils than Bonorong, including some adults that were hissing and fighting and some juveniles that were bouncing around. For me, the highlight was their quolls, another type of carnivorous marsupial. Described as “baby faced assassins,” these tiny critters are hunters that can take down larger animals. The sanctuary had spotted-tail quolls, including a mean-looking male that was perched right next to the glass, and a difficult female that eluded the keepers until they gave up. They also had eastern quolls, which looked so innocent with their large, startled eyes. After another difficult drive, we made it back to Launceston and had a curry dinner. I was very pleased with the powerful induction stove, which made the stir-frying quick and easy. They even had a wok and a rice cooker, some of the nicest kitchen amenities of the trip. We said goodbye to our wallaby and pademelon friends, kept an eye on a large tarantula-looking spider by the door, and left our Launceston AirBNB. But before leaving "Lonnie," we checked out the Cataract Gorge, a steep canyon just minutes away from the town center. We did a short hike around a lake, crossing a suspension bridge and soaking in the scene. There was a large grassy field with a manmade swimming pool, a bright blue against the dark blue of the lake. Overhead, colorful carts drifted by on a scenic chairlift. Peacocks wandered around the edges of the café, where I got my first iced latte of summer. A funky little funicular brought us back up to the parking lot. Driving east towards the coast, we made a detour to see the Bridestowe Lavender estate. We arrived during the peak, and the line of cars was moving slowly, so we had our lunch in the car. But it was worth the wait! Even rows of lavender as far as the eye could see, with plenty of room for everyone to get their photos. People were nicely dressed and having a good time. The fields were buzzing with bees and chirping with cicadas. The farm had around 650,000 lavender plants, and if they were placed in one row, it would reach all the way to Hobart. After a good frolick, we got some lavender ice cream too. I tagged in to drive for the leg from the lavender farm to St. Helens. It was another rural drive, and a little rainy, but not too many cars on the road. Along the road I spotted some yellow-tailed black cockatoos and a kookaburra. Our hotel in St. Helens was a private room with a shared kitchen and bathroom. We picked up ingredients for a chili dinner and sweet potatoes. One of the sweet potatoes was the shape of a boomerang, so we had to test out its aerodynamics. Two bubbly Indian ladies complimented our food while they microwaved theirs. It was a rainy night, perfect for relaxing. The storm cleared and we drove to Binalong Beach, the southernmost beach on the Bay of Fires. The white sand, turquoise water, and crashing waves were a pleasant surprise after the rain. Families played in the sand, and surfers found modest success on the waves. We walked to the far end of the beach, trudging across the compressible and coarse sand. I shed my hiking boots when a rogue wave drenched my ankles. On the far end was an outcrop of boulders, covered with bright red moss – a signature of the Bay of Fires. While posing for photos, poor Rachel was soaked by the spray from a crashing wave. I put my boots back on and hopped across a few more boulders, admiring the contrast of the bright red moss against the ocean blue. We drove a little further to Cosy Corner, a smaller beach with an inviting name. In reality, we found a grizzly campervan park, gray skies, and churning waves. We ate our lunch while looking at a seagull that was missing a foot. As the next storm arrived, we started driving south towards Bicheno. It was only an hour to Bicheno, and it was nice to have a shorter leg. Our accommodation was an actual hotel called with Beachfront Bicheno. After so many AirBNBs, it was strange to visit a front desk with a real human being. Vince and I went for a short hike up to Whaler’s Point, with great views of Governor Island and overlooking the town. Though our room didn’t have a microwave, Vince and Rachel got help from the hotel staff and came back with heated chili, broccoli, and sweet potatoes for dinner. I had a local beer from Bicheno Brewing, with a cute penguin logo (Bicheno has a penguin colony, like the one we saw in Dunedin). A spectacular sunset rainbow stretched all the way across the sky. From Bicheno we drove to Freycinet National Park, a peninsula jutting off the east coast. The parking lot was overloaded but we found a spot alongside the road, and started the hike to the Wineglass Bay Overlook. It was steep, and we were carrying our heavy valuables, but it wasn’t too long distance-wise. The viewing platform had several tiers, all of which had amazing views looking down into Wineglass Bay. The perfect curve of the white beach was sparkling in the afternoon sun. Boats were speckled in the harbor, and sandstone cliffs extended off into the distance. We could even glimpse the turquoise shallows of Hazard Bay on the other side of the peninsula. For lunch, I ate a curry scallop pie from a bakery in Bicheno. A wild wallaby loitered near the platform, seemingly dazed by all the people. Someone offered it food; Rachel spoke up and told them not to. We completed the rest of the east coast drive, stopping to stretch our legs on Orford Beach. A large jellyfish the size of a deflated basketball rolled in the waves. Our destination that afternoon was not Hobart, as originally planned, but New Norfolk. The AirBNB in Hobart had cancelled on us with 1 day notice due to a family emergency. We scrambled to find a replacement, and options were pretty grim with the holidays and yacht race in full swing, but we snagged a room in a classic BNB in this less touristy area. We followed the river Derwent upstream to New Norfolk and checked into the quaint Old Colony Inn. It had a garden, steep wooden steps, an anvil-esque doorjamb, and vaguely Elizabethan artwork. One painting had a noble lady holding what appeared to be a Tasmanian devil. We walked across town to a kebab place for dinner. New Norfolk was a little rough around the edges. Shabby buildings, a large campervan park by the water, and a Woolworth’s with lots of empty shelves. The Wifi was weak-to-nonexistent, which put a damper on the evening. The next morning was full of complicated logistics. Our goal was to arrive at the MONA at 10:00am, while also returning our rental car and borrowing a car from Elsje and Daryl. The owner of the Old Colony Inn, a lady named Penelope, offered a wonderful breakfast including vegan toast with chili and avocado. It was both unexpectedly filling and time-consuming. Penelope was full of ideas on vegetarian and vegan cooking, so it was hard not to be drawn in, especially since Vince coincidentally had a goal of eating more beans-on-toast for breakfast. Heading back down south along the river Derwent, we first stopped for gas and then drove up the hill to Elsje and Daryl’s place. Everyone exchanged quick introductions, and we dropped off our bags for the day. The three of us took the rental car to the dropoff location. Daryl picked us up in the Kona, drove back to his house, and then left the Kona with us for the day. It was super generous for them to suggest this arrangement, as it gave us more time at the MONA and meant we didn’t have to worry about our bags or returning the car on time. The Museum of Old and New Art (MONA) is the pet project of David Walsh, who made his fortune counting cards at casinos. It's a 3-story labyrinth carved into the sandstone foundation, with stripes of Triassic rock visible in many hallways. The branding of the museum was both irreverent and self-aware. The bar advertised "cocktails, pizza, emptiness." Fenced off construction areas were printed with “David is building yet another thing.” None of the art was physically labelled, but information was accessible via the museum’s app. The app even allowed you to join a virtual queue for limited capacity installations and would send you a notification when it was almost your turn. While the app worked quite well, the lack of signage in the museum made it a bit confusing to navigate the maze – perhaps that was the intent. The first gallery was dark and elegant, with velvet curtains and tall-backed armchairs. It housed an eclectic international set of provocative works, including a set of chocolates made from casts of open wounds, a bear-rug style pelt made from a kitten, and a hanging marble statue that evoked a dead horse. The second gallery had stylistically simple sculptures from a particular artist, including a section of bone that appeared to be supporting the ceiling and some CNC machined boulders. The third gallery was a collection of Orthodox Christian artwork from around the world, that offered an amazing comparative art experience. They had Greek and Russian art that reminded me of Meteora, but also Ethiopian and Syrian art including healing scrolls. High on my list was an art installation from the Icelandic musician Jónsi, meant to evoke the recent volcanic eruptions. We were led into a dark, circular room that was ringed with giant speakers. The music was typical Jónsi – slow, layered, and shifting subtly over time. Mouthed pops and hisses evoked the bubbling lava, while the rumbles of the deep bass conveyed the power coming from the earth. I enjoyed it but it was definitely out there – I was hoping for a visual element. We had lunch on the lawn, which had several performance stages including a guitarist who was yodeling a song as people passed by. The labyrinth had even more surprises in store. A guitar and bass clarinet duo played jazz in front of an enormous mural. Rachel went ahead into a green curtained area that was for women only. A series of bioreactors digested food and produced artificial poop. A red sports car with a bloated body was barely recognizable as a Porsche under its marshmallow folds. Out of all these quirky works, the fan favorite was a waterfall that spelled words from Google News headlines out of water droplets, a metaphor for this deluge of information. After a busy morning and so many galleries, the museum fatigue hit me hard. We returned to Daryl’s and had a few minutes to chat. We even squeezed in some more family history!
Elsje called her relative Karyn, who worked as a receptionist for Dr. Eva Zvatora (my Czech relative). Karyn told us what she could remember about the Zvatoras. She said Eva was very nice, spoke good English, wasn’t a socialite, and worked as a dentist at an office that served multiple schools in the area. Eva’s husband Tony was a doctor, one of the few in the area, and so was a fixture of the community. His job sounded stressful, always being on call. One of their fellow Czech immigrants started a successful winery (based on a follow-up internet search, I believe it was Josef Chromy). They had two children, Danny and Mark. Sadly, Mark committed suicide in high school after a relationship fell apart. It was devastating to the family; Tony later committed suicide himself. Elsje speculated that the immigrant post-war experience, including not being able to share your struggles with your new community, and the secondary trauma passed down to the next generation, may have played a role. I believed her; she was raised by a Dutch family who had their own WWII traumas before moving to Tasmania. We bid Daryl and the pets farewell. Elsje was kind enough to drive us to the Hobart airport. We ate our dinner of premade falafel and hummus before security, to help reduce the weight of our carry-on bags. Thankfully, Jetstar did not subject us to any spot checks for bag weight. The gift shop in the airport had products from the lavender farm we visited and of course, lots of souvenirs with Tassie devils. It was a whirlwind 7-day tour of Tasmania, and it was hard to believe it was over. While the quantity of driving was high (well over 1000km), we saw a lot of amazing parks, beaches, animals, and art. Having four different overnight stays, including a curveball AirBNB cancellation, was tough but we prevailed. The time with Daryl and Elsje, and their help with uncovering family history, made Tasmania even more meaningful on a personal level. Tasmania was the destination in Australia I was most excited about, and my ~5 days in Hobart were a brilliant introduction to the island. The coastline, wildlife, and seafood were all highlights, but it was the pop-up markets that really took the cake. I went to four separate markets in one weekend! Here’s the play-by-play of this uniquely Tassie adventure. From the airport, I took the SkyBus to downtown and dragged my heavy checked bag uphill to the historic Battery Point neighborhood. My lodging for the first two nights was a boutique bunkhouse called Montacute, housed in a brick building with a garden, carpeted stairs, and squeaky wooden floors. I stayed in a 4-person room, and quickly met a friendly Frenchman named Antony who was wrapping up a working holiday in Melbourne. The Montacute drew a diverse range of clients, and while I sat in a cozy armchair in the hallway, I heard many languages being spoken – Korean, French, German, Russian. Between the funky layout of the rooms and the eclectic visitors, it felt like the kind of place where a murder mystery would take place. I sat in the dining room for several hours, waiting for check-in to open, and exhausted from my 3:00am wakeup in Wellington that morning. The fast-talking host dealt with the queue of arrivals; the orientation speech got shorter and shorter every time it was repeated. I dropped off my bags and set out for groceries and dinner. It was just a few minutes’ walk to the Salamanca Plaza, a major shopping area with art galleries and restaurants. Across the street, a major section of the wharf was sectioned off for the setup of an event called “Taste of Tasmania.” My own first taste of Tasmania was a hearty bowl of laksa, a delicious Asian curry noodle soup. The next morning, I was up bright and early for a day trip to Tasman Peninsula and Port Arthur. The company was called Pennicott Wilderness Journeys, and their office was in a prime spot by the harbor. The charismatic bus driver Phil gave us local insights on the bus ride out of Hobart. He pointed out burn scars from previous wildfires, marine sanctuaries off the coast, and the hometown of Neil the Seal. Neil is an internet-famous elephant seal, known for playing with traffic cones and blocking driveways. We only caught a glimpse of Neil, but his hilarious videos are worth checking out! We crossed the Eaglehawk Neck, a thin strip of land and the only connection between the Tasman Peninsula and the rest of Tasmania. The Eaglehawk Neck was fiercely guarded with a line of dogs during the convict era, making the Tasman Peninsula a natural prison. We stopped at a café for breakfast while Phil herded tourists. The Pennicott company had a dizzying number of versions of the day trip – some that started in Hobart, some that started in Port Arthur, some that went to a lavender farm or a Tasmanian devil sanctuary for the afternoon activity. As a result, the group was merged and split and rejoined several times throughout the day, an impressive feat of logistics. On one of the bus rides, I sat next to a psychiatrist from Melbourne and had a nice chat. The first activity was a boat cruise along the coastline of Tasman National Park. We were given red ponchos and a ginger pill to help with seasickness (it seemed to work pretty well!) The boat cruise was spectacular right from the onset. The striated sedimentary cliffs were carved in every way imaginable – from cubical blocks, to archways, to tower-like columns. And they were tall! They were the most impressive sea cliffs I had ever seen. The day became even more dazzling when a large pod of a hundred dolphins joined the cruise. They rode the waves created by the boats, swimming alongside us, and showing off with impressive leaps. We also saw fur seals, basking on the rocks and frolicking in the water, and several enormous lion’s mane jellyfish, ominously orange against the dark water. We continued to Cape Pillar and the island across, very creatively named “Tasman Island” (sensing a theme?) The lighthouse on Tasman Island was an elaborate project to maintain, requiring supplies to be hoisted via crane and then carted up the mountainside with a horse-powered crank. It’s also one of the landmarks used in the annual Sydney-to-Hobart yacht race, scheduled to start in just a few days. On the way back, we spotted a few albatrosses and black-winged shearwaters on the open ocean. From the dock, we were taken to Port Arthur for a few hours at the historical site. Lunch was provided at the site’s restaurant, including salmon sandwiches and a surprisingly good flat white. Over lunch, I met a couple from Melbourne: a school music teacher and a restaurant owner. I mentioned that I was thinking of a restaurant job in Melbourne for my working holiday and asked some general advice. I think they were slightly shocked at my loose plan. I later looked up the restaurant, which turned out to be a fancy “$$$” French restaurant in the CBD – not the kind of place I’d be applying without any experience! The Port Arthur historical prison site was a beautiful cluster of sandstone buildings and grassy fields right on the edge of the water. It had the mystique of Alcatraz but with the pleasantness of the Presidio. Through a combination of self-guided exploration and a 30-minute guided tour, I learned some of its history. During the convict era, repeat offenders from other parts of Tasmania were sent here to be punished and reformed. It turned into a mini civilization of its own, with convict labor being used to manufacture raw materials for export, and a tight-knit community of prison staff. The main building was an impressively large multistory Penitentiary. It was originally a flour mill with a wheel that was manually turned by convicts, and later was converted into jail cells. Another building was the Separate Prison, where prisoners were placed in solitary cells and largely deprived of human interaction. For church services, the prisoners were blindfolded and herded into standing pews with dividers. When the prison was gradually closed around 1877, many of the convicts had nowhere else to go and lived on the site as paupers on government welfare. But some ex-convicts became tour guides -- the site became a major attraction as soon as it closed. I’m glad I went to Port Arthur and learned about the convict era of Australia’s history. The site was thought-provoking about how the convicts were portrayed – were they victims of poverty and the harsh legal system, or genuinely terrible people who deserved incarceration? Were the methods of punishment cruel, even if they were progressive compared to other prisons of the era? It was fascinating and unsettling. Back in Hobart, I pieced together a charcuterie dinner featuring a Tasmanian cheese sampler. One cheese included pepper berry, a local plant that added a spicy kick. The next morning, I went on a self-guided walking tour of the Battery Point neighborhood, admiring the beautiful brick buildings and decorative porch trimmings. My route followed the Battery Point sculpture trail, a series of giant numbers, hidden in quiet parks and beaches. Each number had a corresponding anecdote from the area’s history. For example, a floating “313” indicated a shipyard where 313 vessels were built. The trail passed by the site of an old jam factory and the finish line of the Sydney to Hobart yacht race. By coincidence, it also passed a state-of-the-art oceanography research vessel called the Investigator, funded by Australia’s CSIRO agency. I wandered into the center of Hobart’s CBD, an impressive array of restaurants, pedestrian streets, and shopping malls. A caroling choir and Australian animal holiday posters added a festive spirit to the air. I looked for a pair of binoculars at a camera store. The employee encouraged me to try them out on a large billboard several blocks away, which convinced me to make the purchase. I stopped for a wonderful lunch at a casual Vietnamese restaurant, including pork bao and an excellent bowl of pho. An underground Woolworth’s grocery had all the ingredients for my next meal. The next 3 nights, I stayed with an Australian couple that I found through Servas, named Daryl and Elsje (“el-sha”). They were incredibly friendly, generous, interesting, entertaining people and we had so much fun in a few short days. Daryl picked me up in Battery Point with a cheerful greeting and drove me to his home in West Hobart. I was introduced to Elsje and their two pets, a schnauzer named Lucy with a partial haircut and a Siamese cat named “Missy” (short for Miss Minoes, a reference to a Dutch movie about a woman who turns into a cat). After introductions, they let me loose with a guitar while they ran errands. Daryl’s background was in media, entertainment, and theater. Among his many pursuits were magic, comedy, music, acting, playwriting, ventriloquism, and “Santa-ing” for the local community. We went down to the basement, pulled out a briefcase of tricks, and had a magic jam session. He even trained Missy to participate in his routine, and for a treat she would put her paw on the queen. A ventriloquist puppet named Arty the Penguin sat on the sofa, from Daryl's days working at a local Antarctica exhibit. Daryl was full of energy the whole day, from offering me a coffee in the morning to his return from an evening of Santa-ing and theater engagements. Elsje was an excellent gardener, often sporting scratches on her legs, and took me on a tour of the yard. I was dazzled by the variety – raspberries, cherries, quinces, leafy greens, tomatoes, and so much more. The driveway was recently renovated, and she had grand plans for the front yard. She was a seasoned chef and a fellow sweet tooth, so we bonded over meals and desserts. I enjoyed hearing stories from her life and family history. She came from a family of Dutch immigrants who settled in Kingston, just south of Hobart. At one point, she brought out a history book about her father’s role in the Dutch resistance to the Nazis. During her career, she trained airport and hospital staff in crisis management and happened to teach a workshop just 4 days before the infamous Port Arthur massacre (a tragic shooting that led to Australia’s gun reform). Though not a morning person like Daryl, she was also gregarious, perceptive, and full of life. The first evening, Elsje made a dinner of chicken wings and a dessert of crepes with raspberries and ice cream. After we stuffed ourselves, Elsje took me for a wallaby spotting tour in the neighborhood. We hopped in the car and drove up the hill. It didn’t take long – we spotted one a block away, grazing in a neighbor’s garden. We walked along a dirt trail and spotted several more, including one that froze and stood still for a few minutes while I calibrated my new binoculars. Back in the car, she meant to take me up Mt. Nelson but we were distracted by a group of 15-20 wallabies congregating on a grassy field. We ended up in her hometown of Kingston, and returned to Hobart on a longer coastal route. Daryl kindly offered to drive me downtown for my next Pennicott tour to Bruny Island. To my surprise, he lifted up the cat and brought her into the car too! His van was modified for a road trip with pets, including covers on the seats and door handles – a pandemic project. On the drive, Missy jumped up on the dashboard and started the windshield wipers in the process. Somehow, Daryl managed to keep the car moving straight while picking her up and turning off the wipers in an impressive feat of multi-tasking. My day trip to Bruny Island was a food-themed tour with about 10-15 people. We hopped in a van with our guide and driver Kai. The van was able to drive onboard the Bruny Island ferry, so it didn't take long to reach the island. Our first stop was for cheese and beer at the Bruny Island Cheese Co. An employee with a thick French accent tried to explain the selection. I liked several of the harder cheeses, like the cryptically named “C2.” The whole operation was a bit puzzling, as their cows were on Tasmania rather than Bruny Island. During the tasting, I met a boisterous couple from Perth who said I looked like Roger Federer. Our second stop was at the Neck, a strip of land connecting the northern and southern parts of the island. A platform at the top of a staircase gave us the panoramic view needed to appreciate this unique landform. The Neck was my original inspiration to visit Bruny Island, and it didn't disappoint. As we continued the drive, we spotted a white wallaby! Bruny Island is known for having a small population of white wallabies, but it was still a treat to see one. The southern part of the island gets more rain, and for our third stop, we explored an old-growth fern jungle on foot. The Pennicott tour company was large enough to have their own restaurant at a spot called Adventure Bay. We were given two drink tickets, a plate of oysters from a local farm called Get Shucked, and a fish entrée. While many oysters are grown in oscillating tides (they close in air, and this strengthens their muscle), the Bruny Island oysters are grown underwater, giving them a softer texture. I’m a pretty adventurous eater, but these oysters were tough to get down. They were large – too much time to think while eating – and the creaminess felt out of place. After the first one, I waited for my drink to arrive before stomaching any more. Thankfully, the Whey Stout (from the Bruny Island Beer Co) made a wonderful chaser. There were several other solo travelers on the tour, and we gravitated to the same table. One was Antony, the Frenchman I met at the Montacute hostel. Another was a lady from Sydney visiting her bucket list places, inspired by a friend with a terminal illness. Also in the group was a soft-spoken but confident Asian man from LA who was traveling off a generous severance package. We swapped travel advice over our fish & chips and Tasmanian wine. The next stop was a beautiful white sand beach called Two Tree Point. It was the first “real” Australian beach I had encountered. It was lovely, with rock pools and kelp to complement the white sand. Historically, this part of Bruny Island was prized for its timber, and explorers like Captain Cook had docked nearby. The name Adventure Bay came from the HMS Adventure, one of Cook’s ships. The tour had two more stops – chocolate and honey. The chocolate tasting was a bit unusual. We were offered a bar of fudge, and then shown around the sculpture gardens of the eccentric chocolatier – a bit of a Willy Wonka experience. This included “the graveyard,” a set of fake tombstones with humorous quotes and a frog pond. The honey tasting was more straightforward, the highlight being a cup of delicious honey ice cream. There was a long line for the return ferry crossing, which gave me time to buy cherries from the Black Devil Tasmanian cherry stand. I thought that a kilo sounded like a good amount, but I was caught off guard by the enormous bag! I joked with Antony that it was an example of Americans not knowing the metric system. The cherries were so good that I snacked on a few, even after all the other food. Upon returning to Hobart, I checked out two Friday night street markets that were in full swing. One was a “twilight market” right on the harbor, with crafts and food trucks. Another was the “Franko” market (held regularly in Franklin Square) that had even more food trucks plus live music. There were lots of tempting options, but I was stuffed from Bruny Island. Elsje was kind enough to pick me up. Later that evening, I made a coconut curry for dinner as a little thank-you for my hosts, and shared some chocolates from Bruny Island. I joined Elsje on her outing to walk Lucy at Sandy Bay, a dog-friendly beach in the evening. It was a bit chilly but it was nice to stroll along the beach while off-leash Lucy terrorized seagulls and greeted the other dogs. We stopped for gas and Elsje got us Valhalla brand ice cream drumsticks, which we ate on the couch while watching Wallace and Gromit on TV. It was Saturday morning and I had a whole unstructured day to work with. Daryl made a nice breakfast including eggs and bacon, then took me to his local café where we had coffee and practiced a few magic tricks. He dropped me off by the edge of the Salamanca Market, the premiere weekly street fair in Hobart. Multiple rows of tents had taken over the entire street, and it was packed! There was a dazzling variety of crafts, tasty food, and live music. It took an hour to browse from one end to the other. A few sights that stood out included: dog ponchos painted with the stripes of the extinct Tasmanian tiger, giant animal stickers for putting on garbage cans, a knife shop with a bird logo called Cockatool, a Mexican food truck offering wallaby burritos, and a seafood grill where all the employees were in pirate costumes. There were also an absurd number of craft distilleries. I tasted some pre-mixed cocktails including one with gin, sherry, and fernet. In between shopping rounds, I ordered a stuffed Turkish flatbread called gozleme, sat in the grass in the adjacent park, and watched the dogs playing at the Puppy Parking tent. Despite my efforts to window shop, I walked out with: a deck of Tasmanian devil playing cards, some stickers and postcards, jars of peanut butter and jelly, two cocktails, and a bar of fudge. It was a major highlight of Hobart! The rest of the afternoon, I needed to do some travel research and café hopped my way through the CBD. I started with a pot of tea from Sun Moon Lake at a cozy spot called Abel Land. When it closed, I moved to the local Banjo’s, a chain restaurant that evoked Panera. The "hopping" took a literal turn when I ended up at a craft brewery, called Shambles. My flight of beers included a Tasmanian blackberry sour, a red ale, a porter, and an IPA. From there, Elsje (and both pets) picked me up. I mentioned to Elsje that I had a distant relative in Tasmania named Eva Zvatora, a Czech immigrant who worked as a dentist. Although she died in 2015, I was hoping to find out about her life and connect with any living relatives. Together we started an internet search and found a picture of a plaque dedicated to Eva near the town of Penguin. As fate would have it, Daryl’s relatives lived in Penguin, and Elsje started to have a hunch that Eva was in fact the relatives’ next-door neighbor. To be more precise, it was Daryl’s late brother and sister-in-law Bev who were the potential connection. Elsje immediately reached out to Bev, but didn’t hear back, so she tried Bev’s son Tony. We were eating a delicious dinner of lamb and pink eye potatoes when Elsje received a call back from Tony. She cleverly asked Tony if he remembered the name of the dentist next door without spilling the beans. From memory, he offered the name Zvatora. The hunch was confirmed! It was a magical moment.
When Daryl came back from his Santa obligations, we caught him up on the amazing Zvatora connection. Daryl happened to have some pictures of Bev’s house, Eva’s house, and their surroundings. The two houses shared a driveway, so it made perfect sense that the Peebles family would have known the Zvatora family. We started brainstorming the possibility of me visiting Penguin to meet the Peebles, but it wasn’t realistic to squeeze it in. Still, I was energized by this small-world coincidence. Think about it. My Servas hosts, picked out of an online directory, just happened to know my grandmother’s Tasmanian cousin. It was truly meant to be! Stay tuned for more updates on this plot thread… Alas, my stay with Daryl and Elsje was over and it was time for the next chapter of the adventure. Daryl drove me to the rental car pickup and I bid him farewell. But before leaving town, I had to squeeze in one more market! The Sunday farmer’s market was just a few blocks from the rental car agency. I picked up fresh veggies, including Tasmanian pink eye potatoes, and a special type of berry called the Tayberry (a cross between a blackberry and raspberry). One other stand caught my eye – Soyoyoy, a.k.a Tasmania’s tofu company, where I bought some special tempeh for Rachel. I tucked this bag full of produce into the trunk and hit the road, bringing Hobart along in spirit. It was the moment I had been bracing for… my first solo drive on the left side of the road. I eased into the day, getting into the right headspace. I had my now-usual breakfast of avocado toast and an Avalanche instant latte. I checked out of the AirBNB and ran a few quick errands in town. The first leg of the drive was a short one, just to get out of Christchurch and its roundabouts. There wasn’t much traffic on a quiet Saturday morning, and with plenty of advance research, it went smoothly. I stopped for another coffee and a pastry at the Old School Collective, a popular but relaxed café on the outskirts of town. The second leg was an hour long, a comfortable stretch of Highway 1 with only one one-lane bridge. There was a convenient rest stop in the small town of Cheviot. The stop was just a block from a Four Square grocery store where I could buy ingredients for lunch and dinner. The third leg was a bit trickier, with a curvy mountain road and a few short tunnels. I ended up in a caravan with a slow lead driver and a slow truck pulling a boat, so I didn’t have to worry too much about passing or giving way. The final stretch of this last leg was right along the coast and was extremely scenic. There was no indication of the road damage from the 2016 Kaikoura earthquake, apart from one giant net shielding the road from falling rocks, which might have been there anyways. In Kaikoura, I stayed in an AirBNB that was a bedroom in a house. The hosts, Frances and Tony, were originally from Christchurch and retired to Kaikoura, right next to the golf course. Their love of golf was evident from the décor, including a “chance of golf” indicator on the fridge. At first, they struck me as introverted and not really “into” hosting. The check-in orientation was laughably brief – no key was given, and I had to ask how to get in/out of the house. (It turned out there was a spare key in a combo box, with the password “golf.”) The ice finally broke over dinner. I had cooked myself an Asian stir fry and was finishing off a Tui beer when Frances and Tony joined me at the table with their own dinner. I learned that Frances was from a farming family and had an impressive backyard garden. They were in tune with their mini ecosystem, describing the lives of the resident birds in impressive detail and maintaining their own stoat traps. I also learned that golf courses, especially country clubs, are surprisingly cheap in New Zealand and in some cases, are naturally maintained with grazing sheep! At their recommendation, I hiked up the hill to catch the sunset over the Southern Alps. It was so pretty, with the ocean and mountains both visible, the pink clouds, and an incredible variety of birdsong. The neighborhood itself was a bit eclectic, as it was only partially developed. It contained lots of grassy, empty lots. Frances and Tony had owned their land for 20 years and built their house 4 years ago. Most of the other houses were less than 4 years old. But it sounded like a tight-knit community, with neighborly exchanges of excess vegetables and seafood. It was a 5 minute drive to a public parking lot by the beach in Kaikoura. The main street showcased Kaikoura’s fame for everything aquatic – whale watching cruises, crayfish, sea lion colonies, etc. I continued along a black sand beach, spotting a small group of dolphins from the shore. Wildflowers dotted the edges of the coastal pathway, different species than I’d seen earlier in the trip. The Kaikoura Ranges were becoming more visible as the clouds shifted, and still had a bit of snow. I hiked around the entire Kaikoura Peninsula, an 8 mile piecewise route consisting of a paved road, a bluff trail, and a forest trail back into town. Along the paved stretch, I spotted layered rock formations, jutting at sharp angles, and the occasional seal carcass, ribs visible through gaps of dried skin. Though I kept an eye out for a whale tail, I saw only birds – herons, cormorants, oystercatchers, and seagulls. About a third of the way through the hike, I reached a Seafood BBQ food truck that ran a thriving business despite its odd location. I wanted a little taste of crayfish, despite my historical objection, as it was a local specialty. The name of the town, Kaikoura, literally means “eat crayfish” in Maori. So I opted for the entry level dish – a crayfish fritter. The crayfish wasn’t very discernable from the fritter, which was a little disappointing. In my peripheral vision, I watched in amazement and horror as an Asian couple posed with their crayfish, holding them in the air and taking photos for several minutes. I was suddenly glad I went with the fritter. One of the corners of the peninsula was Point Kane. I followed the path up to the top of the bluff for views overlooking the wide, low-lying shelf of rock. As the trail continued along the bluff, I could see the enormous fur seal colony, spread out over this rocky shelf right by the water’s edge. The seals fumbled across the rocks like giant caterpillars and swam in mini lakes between the rocks. The trail continued through a cattle grazing area and to the south side of the peninsula. A scientific display explained that the Kaikoura area has a deep ocean trench that creates an abundance of marine life, making it attractive to all seafood lovers (including the whales!) I ate a sandwich while watching kayak tours launch into the shallows. After completing the loop, I went back to settle in for the evening. An Australian couple arrived and checked into the second guest room. They were just starting their New Zealand trip, so I gave them my leftover cooking ingredients and guide book. Day 39 of Survivor: New Zealand. I drove from Kaikoura to Picton, crossing back into the Marlborough wine country, and closing the loop around the South Island. The rental car return was much smoother than the pickup 26 days earlier. I gave the keys back to the same Scottish lady, dragged my bag across town to the ferry terminal, and finally could relax. The ferry ride from Picton to Wellington was just as beautiful as the first time. I sat on the observation deck the whole time, enjoying the scenery on the way out of the Marlborough Sounds. A friendly Kiwi couple struck up a conversation, and we talked for the last hour of the journey. They were from New Plymouth, a more industrial city on the North Island, and had been biking around the scenic Queen Charlotte Drive. They had a car on the ferry and a 5 hour drive in store that evening. In Wellington, I found a bus that would take me to Cuba Street and rode across town. The hostel I picked, called the Marion, was one of the better hostels I had encountered. It had several large common areas, including one with a guitar that I played, interesting lighting and artwork, and leaned into the aesthetic of its original brick building by leaving some of the walls and rafters exposed. I only had a few hours between the ferry and my flight, so I grabbed Thai food on Cuba St and took a shower. The Air New Zealand checkin counter didn’t open until 4:00am, two hours before my flight. I waited in the bag drop line in front of a giant sculpture of Smaug the Dragon. The main waiting area of the airport had another Lord of the Rings sculpture, of Gandalf riding a giant eagle – presumably the handiwork of Weta Workshop. My first flight, from Wellington to Auckland, was a very quick 1 hour. In the flight safety video, a takahe named “Mr. T” was taken around New Zealand, eventually matching with a bird sanctuary through the “Nester” app – a final dose of cheeky Kiwi humor. I had a window seat overlooking the North Island’s mountains and was delighted to see the enormous Mt. Ruapehu rising above the clouds. The elusive Mt. Tongariro stayed out of sight, but its outline was faintly visible as a bump in the clouds. In Auckland, I changed from the domestic to the international terminal, and browsed the gift shops. From manuka honey and Dunedin craft spirits to kea and penguin puppets, it brought back memories from the previous weeks. I ate the PB&J that I had made at 3:00am in the deserted hostel kitchen.
In hindsight, it was very unusual to enter Australia through a flight from Auckland to Hobart, as it only runs a few times a week. However, it was a nice geographic progression – crossing the Tasman Sea to Tasmania, staying at a similar latitude. Both Australia and New Zealand take their biosecurity seriously, so I discarded my NZ bird feather collection to avoid questions at customs. I was expecting immigration to look at my working holiday visa, but they let me through without a question nor a passport stamp. A bronze statue of Tasmanian devils on a luggage cart was a sign that I had officially made it into Australia! After the 3.5 hours on the road, Vince’s silliness had kicked in, and the Christmas tunes now had an extra layer of karaoke. (This silly alter ego became known as “chaos kea.”) We parked at a public lot in downtown Christchurch near a giant penguin mural, figured out the parking payment app, and reviewed the AirBNB checkin instructions. We were supposed to pick up the “orange key” from a convenience store. The clerk flipped through a binder that had all the colors of rainbow, except ours. It turned out that the cleaning service had missed our apartment. We waited in a semi-enclosed, glass-roofed train station while the AirBNB host sorted it out. Historic street cars rumbled into the station, exchanged a few tourists, and then rumbled out. A giant clock in the shape of a kiwi sitting on an egg was perched above us. When we got into the apartment, it had a great view overlooking the station – we could now see the kiwi clock from above. Our view also included the pastel facades of New Regent street, a nearby pedestrian area. With plenty of afternoon light, we set out to explore on foot. We stopped at the original cathedral, still in the thick of its restoration from the 2011 earthquake and covered with scaffolds and cloth. We crossed through the lively CBD to the Botanical Gardens, which were spacious and well maintained. The rose garden was blooming and fragrant. It was a mini paradise, complete with cute ducklings scurrying across lily pads. We finished our walk at a food court with tons of international fare. It was cozy and energetic, filled with savory aromas and illuminated signboards. We settled on a Latin American kitchen. Rachel and Vince had burritos, while I had the Cubano sandwich. We agreed they were good but a little different than the ones at home. Our meal was rounded out with a few yuca fries and NZ beers. Rachel made pancakes for breakfast, pulling it off wonderfully despite a lack of measuring cups. The “chaos kea” also made an appearance, launching the last pancake out of the skillet and across the apartment. It landed fairly close to the target plate on the kitchen table! The day’s plan was an outing to the Banks Peninsula, about an hour away from Christchurch. I got a little driving practice on the way out of town, then handed over the keys to Vincent for the more challenging curvy mountain roads. The hike we chose was a little less common, so we stopped at a visitor center in a nearby town for a map. They didn’t have the brochure of interest but were quite chatty. The Banks Peninsula is volcanic in origin. At its center is a large bay, formed by flooding of the original crater. Our hike was along the Onawe Peninsula, right at the center of this flooded crater. Onawe is considered the volcano’s plug – a giant stopper of hardened magma. If that wasn’t enough mystique, it was also the site of a Maori fort (called a “pa”) where a bloody battle was fought between tribes. We crossed a rocky strip of land that was exposed by the low tide, passing orange and brown swirled rock formations. The trail then ascended a wide grassy lawn that seemed out of place. Finally, it looped around the main hill, including some forested stretches. There were good views of the boats in the harbor, including the colorful boathouses on the shore. Departing the small parking lot, we thankfully didn’t encounter any cross-traffic on the unpaved one lane connector to the main road. We continued driving along the edge of the bay to the town of Akaroa, often hyped up for its French heritage but at its core a charming seaside town. A statue of a Hector’s dolphin, the small and rare dolphin found in the area, marked the storefront of a tour agency. On the pier, groups of terns squawked in protest as we passed, resettling on the other side. Akaroa was also our long-awaited opportunity to try the New Zealand style fruit ice cream. A giant spiral drill was used to mix frozen fruit into ice cream, creating a pretty (and sturdy) swirl, packed with crunchy crystals of fruit. It was simple and excellent! I napped on the drive back, but I know it wasn’t an easy one. In return, I cooked a coconut curry dinner. The fridge was too cold and had frozen the pak choy, but the curry was forgiving of this. We settled into our usual evening planning and research. The mattress hadn’t been comfortable the previous night, so I tried sleeping partially upright in an armchair, which worked out better. For our last day in Christchurch, we gladly left the rental car behind and walked around town. Vincent and Rachel had a few clothes to donate, and we found a shop that would take them. We returned to the botanical garden for more horticultural immersion. There was a set of greenhouses with different climates, from desert to tropical, with unique plants around every turn. I liked the carnivorous pitcher plants and the amazing variety of leaves – some with multiple colors, some that were fenestrated (with windows), and others with variegated patterns that could have inspired latte art. Speaking of lattes, I stopped for one at a quiet corner café, also adding a meat pastry as a snack. The friendly waitress ended up bringing two pastries, and said it was to make up for the delay (though it wasn’t a long wait). The pastries were covered with a sweet and sour sauce and were surprisingly good. The café was conveniently located across the street from our next stop, the Quake City museum. In 2010 and 2011, Christchurch experienced several earthquakes that dramatically changed the city’s identity. Iconic buildings came tumbling down, the death toll accumulated in now-infamous structural failures, cliffs collapsed, and the land experienced liquefaction. The Quake City exhibits were succinct and educational, with explanations of the magnitudes, live footage from the street, info about how search and rescue teams operate, and interactive scientific displays on liquefaction. One of the best things at the museum was a set of interviews with Christchurch residents. The first video was focused on their acute experience surviving the quake; the second video was a follow-up 10 years later. The citizens’ descriptions painted a vivid picture: the stifling dust, the eerie soundscape of alarms (and the silence behind them), of running across bridges while fearing aftershocks, of searching for family members, only to find them helping others in need. The follow-ups were equally profound: one had recovered from injuries and was starting to work a modest amount, a police officer found himself tangled in yet another tragedy with the 2019 mosque shootings, another felt like Christchurch had lost its sense of identity, comparing its loss of historical continuity to Alzheimer’s. The videos both ended with two girls singing a song of hope, but the unsettling reflections still lingered. The rest of the afternoon, we poked around shops in the CBD and briefly visited the “cardboard cathedral” that is set up as a temporary substitute. It was quite pretty with its stained-glass windows and large Christmas tree, though perhaps it was embellished in my mind by the symbolism of resilience. We also strolled through the restaurants of New Regent St, the pedestrian area near our place. Vincent and Rachel packed for their early flight while I made a simple pasta dinner. I also tried two low alcohol beers, chosen for the label – one with a kiwi and one with a kea. It was nice to have an IPA with only 2.5% ABV for a change. The clouds at sunset were visible through the window, and at night, so were the colorful lights of New Regent St. The two of them were up, “dark and early,” for their pre-booked Uber ride to the airport. We bid each other farewell – only a temporary goodbye, as the plan was to reconvene in Tasmania a week later. I returned to my blanket cocoon and donned the usual eye mask, in anticipation of the early sunrise.
We listened to Christmas music on the drive towards the Southern Alps, including a mix of comforting favorites and modern remakes. “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” seemed fitting as we approached the snow-capped mountains. The road traced the Waitaki River upstream, offering splendid scenery including a few dams and the resulting lakes. We stayed in the town of Twizel, pronounced “twy-zel” (not “twizzle”!) Our accommodation was probably the largest AirBNB of the trip, with 3 bedrooms, a spacious living room, a full kitchen, and a yard. As the wind whipped through the neighborhood, the metal roof panels would pop and pang. The laundry clothesline turned into a giant pinwheel, spinning in the wind and flinging a large portion of my clothing into the grass. For dinner, I made a round of fried rice, with tofu instead of scrambled egg and a choice of tempeh or chicken for protein. It was a satisfying meal, and we even opened the Forrest rose! This bottle from Marlborough had been tagging along with us for the entire trip around the South Island. I also tried a Tui beer, a strong 7.2% lager with a confident tui on the can. It was delicious and became my favorite New Zealand beer! The next day, we took a day trip into Mt. Cook / Aoraki National Park. It was a spectacular drive, hugging the edge of the sparkling blue Lake Pukaki as the sharp profile of Mt. Cook / Aoraki became larger and large. Some say that the name Aoraki means “cloud piercer” in Maori – if true, a brilliant name for the tallest peak in New Zealand. However, on this particular day, there were no clouds to pierce. We were blessed with wide open blue skies, apart from a few stray clouds blowing over from the West Coast, but even these clouds kept their distance from Aoraki. We followed the popular Hooker Valley track, which started at the White Horse Hill camping area and took a relatively flat 3 mile path to Hooker Lake. The views were stunning! Depending on the curve of the path, the backdrop was either Mt. Cook or its neighbor Mt. Sefton. We loved the sharp double peak of Mt. Cook, and the ice shelves and waterfalls on Mt. Sefton. The track passed both a gray glacial lake and a gray river of smooth rocks. Both were a fitting foreground for these mountain scenes. The track also had three suspension bridges, that bounced under the weight of the hikers and were exposed to the full force of the wind. We experienced some mild “sea legs” after each crossing. We had our lunch at the lake overview, holding onto our sandwiches and bags to prevent them from blowing away. Our second hike was essentially a staircase to a viewpoint overlooking the Tasman Glacier. The lake formed by the recession of the glacier was a surprising shade of bright blue. Since we couldn’t see the lake until reaching the very top, it was a wonderful dramatic reveal. The glacier itself was visible in the distance, and while its body was camouflaged with a dirt covering, its shelf was a discernable stripe adjacent to the lake. Of course, it was tragic to see how much it had receded. In 1990, the lake didn’t yet exist – it’s now several kilometers long. Meanwhile, the blasts of wind pushed us sideways, and claimed the hat of a fellow tourist. Our itinerary for the next day had one simple activity listed – “enjoy the mountains.” We drove to the edge of Lake Pukaki and hiked along the ridge, enjoying the blue water and mountain scenery. The trail was completely deserted and ended at a cute little kettle lake filled with gray water. The hillsides were covered with yellow-brownish tussock, animated by the wild wind. On the way back, we stopped at a visitor center where I tried salmon sashimi from an alpine salmon farm in the area. I marveled at the concept of alpine salmon, the freshness, and the low price – while the others marveled at the views. Some of our other meals in Twizel included lentil and quinoa bowls from chef Rachel and pasta and veggies from chef Grant. We discovered that Twizel was large enough to have two separate Four Square grocery stores, only a block apart. It was good to have down time for calling home and travel planning. Twizel is part of the Mackenzie Dark Sky sanctuary, but we didn’t end up stargazing because the sunset was so late and the nights were cold and/or cloudy. On the drive out of town, we stopped at Lake Tekapo. It was pretty, with the Mt. John observatory perched on the left and the Southern Alps in the distance, but it fell short compared to Lake Pukaki, so we didn’t linger. What caught our attention was actually a field that was bursting with mountain lupins. We stopped to admire the purples and pinks, as far as the eye could see. I tried making a “snow angel” pose but it turned out hilariously bad – like I was passed out on the ground! The route to Christchurch crossed the sprawling Canterbury plains. It was one of the longer drives, at 3.5 hours, and Vincent once again led the charge. At one point, a small critter darted across the road ahead of us – the infamous stoat! New Zealand’s #1 public enemy had finally been sighted. ^ the GIF that I made to capture our reaction to seeing the lupin
The drive from Bluff to Dunedin was around 3 hours, and the driving time was split between myself and Vincent. We refueled and changed drivers in the little town of Clinton. The truck drivers ahead of us were setting a good pace, but were also polite and gave us the opportunity to pass. In general, we found New Zealand drivers to be extremely courteous. Our lodging in Dunedin (pronounced “dun-EE-din”) was in a suburb called Vauxhall (pronounced “voxel”) that was across the bay from downtown. Our host Georgina lived on the property, a charming 2-story home with a basement and a balcony. Our rooms were private, and the kitchen was shared with Georgina. She was very friendly and made us to feel at home, even helping us with our bags when we left. We all had interesting conversations with her at various points in the stay. I learned she was living in Christchurch during the 2011 earthquake, had a son in Hokitika, and had moved to Dunedin in 2016. Unfortunately, she came across as a bit stuffy or closed-minded on certain topics. At breakfast she expressed a disdain for avocados. Her most memorable comment was a puzzling and hilarious non-sequitur about penguins. When we told her about seeing 300 penguins (more on that later), she replied: “oh, that’s 200 penguins too many.” We still don’t know what she meant! Our first mission in Dunedin was retrieving Rachel’s jacket. Careful readers will remember this was the jacket left behind in Nelson that our AirBNB hosts had mailed to Dunedin in advance of our arrival. The pickup location was a Countdown grocery store that partnered with the NZ Post. According to their website, they would hold packages for up to 10 days, and this was day 9, so we headed there with urgency. Unfortunately, the grocery store had returned the package to the NZ Post! A recently hired (and very unsympathetic) employee claimed their location wasn’t actually a partner in the first place. Next we tried a local post office, but it turned out to be a retail store that accepted mail drop-offs, and not an actual NZ Post location. They were able to direct us to the actual NZ Post office. As luck would have it, the NZ Post still had the jacket for us to collect! The clerks mentioned that the package’s contact phone number, handwritten on the pouch, had an illegible digit that may have complicated the situation. In any case, Rachel was thrilled and relieved to have the jacket in hand after this roller coaster. We continued into downtown Dunedin, struggling a bit with navigation and parking, but found a spot. The city is known its Scottish heritage, its Edwardian and Victorian architecture, and for its street art. My guidebook included a map for a street art walking tour, and we gave it a shot. A few artwork highlights were a giant chrome bull, a wispy eagle, and the word “tofu.” Some works were visible from the street, others hidden in a more obscure parking lot or alleyway. It was a sunny Thursday afternoon with relatively few other pedestrians, certainly no fellow tourists. A few sketchy people, including a guy with face tattoos, reminded us that this wasn’t the safest area imaginable, and we walked elsewhere. We continued our walk along a pedestrian-oriented street that was gutted open by a massive construction project. At the end was our restaurant of choice, a Nepalese fusion place called Mela. We sat in front of a photo of some yaks on Mt. Everest. I had the most amazing tandoori momos, a twist on Nepalese dumplings that were smothered in red sauce and oven baked, plus some tasty lamb chops. We stopped for a few groceries before heading back to Georgina’s. After weeks of wondering what a pavlova tasted like, I finally caved in and bought the smallest grocery store pavlova I could find – still the size of a dinner plate. It was branded as “Kiwi’s Favorite Dessert” and had a picture of strawberries on top. Upon cutting a slice, I was disappointed to find no fruit inside – only merengue. The merengue was pretty good, and it was improved by adding a few blueberries or some blackcurrant jam. However, the anticlimactic moment of cutting into what amounted to a giant marshmallow was too funny to forget. The next day, we had a “flipped” schedule – a morning at the AirBNB, and an afternoon/evening of exploring. We cooked a Mediterranean inspired lunch with a Greek salad, sauteed chickpeas, cous cous, and hummus. The leftovers were packed up and taken on the road for our dinner. We drove 30 minutes along the Otago Peninsula, a mountainous drive with amazing panoramic views of the ocean on both sides. The road went from paved to dirt as we got closer to the Sandymount trailhead. There was something delightfully unusual about starting a hike at 5:30pm with the sun still high in the sky. The trail went through a dense tunnel of trees and emerged into a set of sheep pastures. The views overlooking the headlands were stunning, with dramatic cliffs, sandy inlets, and rolling green hills as far the eye could see. Rachel was eager to get a picture with some real New Zealand sheep and we approached a few groups, but they all turned and walked away. All of a sudden, two sheep started walking towards us, baaing loudly. I quickly realized the lambs grazing on our left were not accompanied by any ewes, and we made a hasty retreat. Those ewes were moving swiftly! And the baaing was a clear warning shot. It changed how we saw the rest of the sheep on the trail. The trail was marked by a series of posts, and of course the sheep were parked right next to them. We hesitantly skirted around several more sets of ewes and lambs, prepared to turn around if any crossing appeared too treacherous. The lambs were so cute when they played and headbutted, but the ewes were keeping a close eye on us, so we kept our guard up too. When two lambs approached us with curious eyes, we frantically tried to shoo them away, in case mom was around the corner. The final stage of the hike was uphill and sandy, with dense flax plants setting a narrow width. The loop brought us back to the parking lot, empty except for our car and one other. We had dinner at a picnic table and enjoyed the great views a little longer. Our next destination was the Royal Albatross Center, located at the farthest tip of the Otago Peninsula. The hill outside the building was swarming with seagulls and covered with their nests. A few cute baby seagulls were visible from the walkway, but the cacophony of screeching encouraged one to keep moving. There was a free viewing platform looking towards the only mainland albatross colony in the world, but it was around the edge of the cliffs and not visible. However, as we left the platform, we started to notice a few larger birds amongst the flurry of seagulls – the motionless wings of the royal albatross! They were enormous and majestic. We stood outside and tried to spot as many as we could, at least 15 or 20 in total. The Royal Albatross Center was the check-in point for the main attraction of the evening – blue penguin viewing. A charismatic docent gave us some background on the penguins and Maori culture in general. The blue penguins, also called little penguins, are the smallest penguins in the world – just 12 or 13 inches tall! They’re also known as “fairy penguins” in Australia. We walked down a staircase to a wooden platform overlooking the beach, waiting for the penguins to return at sunset. Soon, the rafts of penguins started to arrive from the ocean. The guide said that you could see them in the water – which I doubted until a cluster of black distortions materialized on the surface of the ocean, moving towards us. The raft landed on the beach, a group of ~20 penguins that stood up and started waddling forward confidently. They scrambled up a field of sticks and driftwood and congregated in a sort of foyer, shivering to shake the water off their heads and flippers. From the foyer, a single file line of penguins marched uphill into a neighborhood of nests. The penguins turned onto side streets or hopped up inclined pathways, and started chirping loudly when they reached their partners or nests. It was like a little Hobbiton for penguins. The viewing deck was perfectly situated to enjoy the parade. It was built on the hillside, right above some of the nests. The penguins were moving just feet below us! We could hear them squawking underneath the platform, and a few emerged out the back. The guides encouraged people to rotate so that everyone had a turn in the front row. The deck also had constant lights pointed down so we could see their antics even after the sun was down. Apparently, the penguins don’t like sudden bursts of light but are fine with constant light. The name “blue penguin” was definitely merited, as their backs were a dark navy blue in the light. The rafts continued – wave after wave. In total, the guide estimated that 300 penguins returned from the ocean that evening! This was the best turnout in a year, and a significant portion of the ~500 penguin population. It was quite a treat. New Zealand’s birds continue to steal the show. Video showing the cuteness overload: Before leaving Dunedin, we stopped at their Saturday farmer’s market. We were greeted with a concert band playing Christmas tunes, a delightful reminder that the holiday season was in full swing. The market had an excellent selection of vendors with food and drinks of all kinds, and music too. Besides the concert band, the air was filled with sounds of an accordion-guitar duet and a four-piece Bluegrass band. Many stalls were cash only, and we were light on cash. Thankfully, a few vendors with card readers offered cash back with a purchase, which opened up lots of tasty possibilities! Among the three of us, we tried: a croissant, a chai latte, tofu bao, a coffee, beef and lamb pies, some craft distilled spirits, and dessert crepes. Of course, we also picked up veggies for dinner. One of my favorite things about the market was a "cup library" shared by all the coffee vendors at the market. Such a unique way of reducing waste. On the drive from Dunedin to Oamaru, we stopped at the beach to see the Moeraki Boulders. These unique boulders are almost perfect spheres, protruding from the sand as hemispheres. They were great for silly poses, with dramatic skies as the backdrop. It was a little cold and windy, but a worthwhile stop. We arrived in Oamaru, a beachside town that stood out for two reasons: its elaborate building facades with carved whitestone, and its celebration of the steampunk genre. After checking into our cute cottage with ocean views, Vincent and I walked into town for groceries. We wandered through the deserted Victorian quarter, admiring the architecture and stopping to gander at a few shops with steampunk costumes and props. In the grocery store, a few unusual items jumped out like kiwi-themed Christmas crackers and an aquarium of fresh barnacles. We had a quiet evening, including a pasta dinner from Rachel. I opened the elderflower liqueur from the farmer’s market and mixed it with some soda water for a light and summery cocktail. We only spent one night in Oamaru, but it was a fun stint. We lucked out and found their Sunday farmer’s market, snacking on vegan baked goods from Moa Bakery and listening to live acoustic guitar music. Vincent and I also visited the Steampunk HQ, an interactive theme park and sculpture garden. In front were a train engine and blimp that would belch smoke and flames if you inserted a coin. Inside, we encountered bizarre contraptions, rusty tools, ghoulish figurines, mad scientist workbenches, and so much more. A room called the “portal” contained a hall of mirrors and an ethereal light show, like a Yayoi Kusama infinity room. Outside, a junkyard of rusty vehicles that could have been from a Mad Max movie was available as a playground of sorts. A giant train had a roof-mounted crane that could be raised and lowered with horrendous screeching, and an artillery gunner’s booth had interior lights to simulate firing an electrical blast. It was extremely bizarre and very cool. From Oamaru, we turned inland and headed into central Canterbury for more time in the mountains. Our coastal adventures in Dunedin and Oamaru were now behind us, but the memories of the Otago scenery and cute penguins journeyed with us. Fun fact, millenial kiwis prefer avocado toast over bugs.
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Grant MenonFreeform blog to share my travel experiences with my friends, family, and future self! Archives
May 2024
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