Author: These Two Eyes

These Two Eyeshttp://www.thesetwoeyes.comI believe that experiences are the key to life and travelling shapes those experiences. I try and get away to experience somewhere, something, anything and everything new as often as I can, and it's typically the thought on my mind on a regular basis – so what’s next? Meeting people and hearing their stories, experiencing other cultures, and having a laugh along the way. Trying new food, marvelling at the similarities, the differences. Feeling anxious and scared, and excited and envious all at the same time. This is what it's all about. Thanks for listening to my stories. Eat, drink, explore, meet, laugh...it all makes living worth it.
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Falling from the sky: Skydiving Fox Glacier, New Zealand


“I don’t feel any nerves or anxiety. Maybe it’s because I know I won’t jump, or more likely because I’m just secretly hoping the whole thing is called off due to the uncertain weather and then I won’t even have to make the decision to jump or not,” I wrote the morning of.

Of course I always prefer a good reason to an excuse. I’ve never had a strong desire to skydive, although I will admit that every time I come and go to New Zealand I always leave with a teeny tiny regret of not participating in the adrenalin-obsessed country’s biggest tourist adventure.

I woke to a buzzing alarm earlier then I would have preferred and pushed the curtains aside at Sunset Motel. In view, thick and bushy grey clouds and dense fog covered the Southern Alps along the West Coast of the South Island in New Zealand. More importantly, hidden behind the haze was the face of Fox Glacier, a massive retreating icy structure I’ve yet to see in a clear view.

We arrived at Skydive Fox Glacier on time for our early morning appointment. Wes, Ceri and Rob had booked months in advance and paid up front. Backing out wasn’t an option for them, and even better the Aussie dollar was more favorable at their time of booking. A week prior to arriving I made a phone call and confirmed that putting my name alongside theirs just guaranteed there would be a slot should I want to jump, but there was no monetary obligation to do so at that time. I took that as an indicator that it was okay that I would ‘maybe’ jump but assumed the likelihood that I actually would was very, very slim.

As the gang approached the office I took a quick wander over to the small plane parked in the bunker. One glance at the size in conjunction with the modest glass door I presumed I would potentially be jumping out of and I said “nope, count me out.” At that point Francoise, a 25-year skydiving veteran and part owner, pulled me aside for a chat and before I knew it my plans for the afternoon took a very unexpected and fear-provoking turn.

Skydive Fox Glacier Plane

Skydive Fox Glacier Plane

In his soothing South African accent Francoise talked me through the process. We discussed my fears, which I couldn’t exactly pinpoint. We walked through the safety process, including the backup parachute and the probability of unfavorable events. With over 9,000 jumps under his belt I trusted his experience. We agreed that we’d go together and more importantly, we’d go first. Before I knew it I was wearing a jump suit, a silly cap and harness. Once I was fully suited up along with the rest of the group I turned to my adviser Francoise and said, “Um, I sort of have to pee”.

Lisa and Francoise, Skydive Fox Glacier

Lisa and Francoise, Skydive Fox Glacier

I sat in a corner on the outdoor wooden bench taking deep breathes and mentally battling my anxiety away as my friends sat across from me making jokes. I couldn’t quite understand how they so discreetly masked their fear. But just as I started to get used to the idea of willingly leaping from a moving aircraft we were approached and told the bad news.

In professional and honest practice we were informed that although it was safe to jump from the launch point, it was too cloudy and the likelihood of us seeing any of the beautiful landscape was minimal. We had to make a call to jump anyway, or postpone it with no penalty. We only had a few hours available before having to move on with our road trip down the West Coast to make it to our next destination in time. We took a vote and agreed that although disappointed, the anxiety and cost wasn’t worth it if we couldn’t see the glacier and decided to take some time out and see if the weather would settle throughout the morning.

In a cold and torrential downpour we walked the base of Fox Glacier and I willed the clouds away so I could grab a clear shot with my camera but to no avail. We moved on to breakfast at Matheson Café on Lake Matheson overlooking the Southern Alps and watched and waited for the clouds to shift as the sun slowly crept in between them. We headed back to the skydiving headquarters to let them know that we were closely watching the sky and would be back in a few hours. How timely as just then it cleared and they informed us that very moment was likely the most opportune time to jump. Ahhh, was it really going to happen?

Fox Glacier base

Fox Glacier base

All my anxiety rushed back and I started to have doubts again. This time, I had a belly full of muesli and a fear of vomiting onto my tandem instructor added to the list of uncertainties. My boy Francoise was there for me again, as I wouldn’t have gone with anyone else at that point and he assured me he’d be there for me throughout the whole occasion. We suited up again, much quicker and a bit more self-assured. Faster than expected the call was made. I witnessed a few thumbs up and and then oh-my-gosh it was go time.

Pre Jump Nerves

Pre Jump Nerves

Rob and I waddled to the plane as our instructors followed us, GoPro’s attached to their wrists to record the whole event. Rob and his instructor Paul shuffled themselves away from the exit through the metal passenger tube towards the nose of the small single engine aircraft before Francoise and I settled in at the door. Immediately he connected us at my lower back, then the top bit behind my shoulders and talked me through how we were safely fastened together while tightening the straps. He calmly explained that the noise was the testing of the engine and a few seconds later, take off. This was now the point of no return.

I took quick deep breaths and mentally said a few Hail Mary’s as we wound our way up. Francoise kept me distracted, pointing out the snow-covered top of Mount Cook, the highest peak in New Zealand, the semi-cloud covered Fox Glacier and the rain water lakes Tekapo and Pukaki far below. Between the few turbulence bumps I’d receive gentle squeezes on my shoulder in reassurance that we were okay. Just when I started to relax and appreciate the fact that I’m a regular flyer, otherwise I’d really be freaking out, he gave me the news. We had reached the halfway mark. At that point I looked down and all of the uneasiness came rushing back. “We are only halfway?!”

Reaching Altitude

Reaching Altitude

Around 14,000 feet an oxygen mask appeared around my nose and mouth and I slowly inhaled. This meant only one thing; we were nearly at our jumping altitude. Luckily, the freezing cold air and slow stream of oxygen kept me very relaxed. In fact, I was surprised by how much the oxygen gave me a sense of ease. I felt Francoise do the safety checks on our straps one more time and stared at the back wall of the aircraft waiting in anticipation for the indicator light to turn from red to green. Any second now…

Francoise slid the door open and without hesitation hurled me out of the plane. I heard him later telling one of the other instructors that he heard me scream a few profanities when the door opened and just went for it, not taking the time to sit on the ledge as many others do knowing that would only increase my apprehension.

Gravity did its thing as I fell from 16,500 feet at 200 kph toward the ground below. The first ten seconds were exhilarating. I felt my heart in my throat and a high sense of fear and confusion mixed with adrenaline. For an entire minute after that, literally I free fell for over one minute, I was still falling at terminal velocity and experienced the most intense range of emotions. The air was so cold and the wind hurt like being slapped in the face a million times over. For a second I even thought my nose would bleed. I had to remind myself to take in the magnificent scenery all around me as I dropped through the clouds. I only let out a few screams and then with a massive jolt the parachute finally opened. I went from 200 kph to 10 kph in four seconds.

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I did it! I did it! The hard part was over and I looked up and there was Rob floating down not too far in the distance. How cool to see each other. Francoise handed over the parachute reigns and I pulled down with my right arm to steer us into view of the coastline. A pull down with my left arm and we were facing the mountains again. As I didn’t want to experience any motion sickness we kept it calm and left all the swirls and twirls to the more adventurous. This was the part I enjoyed the most; just calmly floating in the air, watching the sea, the mountains and lush green grass below.

Driving the parachute

Driving the parachute

It was time to land so I handed the reigns back and got into position. With my two feet stretched straight out in front of me we slowly descended and slid across the grass in a very soft and graceful motion. There was Rob waiting for me, and a big high five from Francoise from behind me. I did it! On the ground and safe with a big smile I turned to Francoise and said, “That was cool, but I don’t know if I’d do it again!”

After taking off our gear it was only a few minutes later and Rob and I looked up into the sky. Just a speck next to the sun, we could see Wes and Ceri zooming down toward the ground. Mouth dropped, we turned to each other and went, “Wow, look how high they are! Can you believe that’s where we just came from?!”

High fives all around, proud of each other for such an incredible and brave accomplishment we cheered. Throughout the entire event I never thought I was going to die, or even fathomed the thought. It was all just a big ball of anxiety and apprehension, but that’s normal of course when you’re fleeing yourself from the sky for the first time. Just like the Francoise said, if I didn’t have a sense of fear to jump then I’d be crazy and they don’t jump with crazy people. As we pulled away in our rental car from Skydive Fox Glacier we turned to each other and said, “Um, I need a beer!” So we celebrated.

Wes, Rob, Ceri & Lisa: Jumping for Fox

3-Day Pressed Juice Cleanse


The evening before I started my pressed juice cleanse I had nightmares. I dreamt about being tempted by chocolate, steak, waffles and cold beer which made me fail at the task of staying ‘clean’. I agonized about the unattainable. Not only because I was on a strict no-solids, no-alcohol, no-caffeine regiment, but also because those delicacies I fantasized about also weren’t available to be purchased or consumed from my office, where I unfortunately was in my dream. Plus, I don’t even like waffles.

My decision to cleanse was fast and without waver. Coming back from a long New Year’s celebratory weekend in Sydney my body felt overworked and screamed for a rest, both mentally and physically. I even contemplated running off to a wellness retreat for a few days, and a few thousands of dollars of debt. Luckily once I discovered I didn’t have the transport means to get there I came to my senses and started brainstorming on something much more sensible albeit my first time ever going 3 full days without a solid meal. Others may not deem that as sensible.

I chose Pressed Juices simply because they are a Melbourne based company and they made the whole experience easy for me. After a bit of research, I felt confident that I would get the right balance of nutrients to sustain off solids for 3 days at the same time do my body some well deserved recovery and rejuvination. The process was simple:

  1. Choose your cleanse: Basic, Advanced, Master
  2. Choose for 3, 4, or 5 days
  3. Choose 6 of 8 juices to consume daily. The options online were presented from a drop down list in a calculated way so that from whichever option I chose I had the right balance of fruit, veg, nuts and nutrients in the next.
Pressed Juice: Almond Mylk

Pressed Juice: Almond Mylk

Juice 1: Black Lemonade – pre-selected (Alkaline Water, Lemon, Activated Coconut Charcoal, Cayenne) Juice 2: Green 6 (Spinach, Cucumber, Silverbeet, Cos Lettuce, Pineapple, Lime, Mint) Juice 3: Earth 3 (Beetroot, Apple, Lemon, Ginger) Juice 4: Green 2 (Spinach, Cucumber, Lettuce, Celery, Kale, Parsley, Apple, Lemon) Juice 5: Earth 5 (Carrot, Orange, Pineapple, Celery, Lemon, Turmeric) Juice 6: Zest 3 (Grapefruit, Mint) Juice 7: Save the Date Almond Mylk (Filtered Water, Almonds, Vanilla Bean, Sea Salt) Juice 8: Slippery Elm – pre-selected (Alkaline Water, Licorice Root, Marshmallow Root, Chia Seeds, Slippery Elm Bark Powder, Cinnamon)

  1. Pick up (with 8 stores to choose from in the Melbourne area and apparently a pop up coming to Richmond soon!) or Ship for an additional charge. The shipments were made to my office in two installments containing a day and half’s worth of juice per delivery. Because they have no added preservatives and are unpasteurized, the daily delivery meant that I knew that what I was drinking was fresh.
  2. Start juicing!
Pressed Juice: Delivery

Pressed Juice: Delivery

Day 1: I woke up hungry from a light dinner the night before in which I’m still unsure was a good thing, or set me up for success. I was excited and eager to try each juice, anticipating one before the next in the hopes that it would be equally as tasty as the last, or in the cases where it wasn’t my favorite, at least better. As the 6 primary juices are meant to be consumed over 12 hours, I found myself constantly checking the clock every two hours in anticipation of my next juice. In fact, I’d even argue that it made me more productive at work as I rewarded myself in between small tasks and projects.

Around mid-day I was relieved to know the Earth juices tend to have more fruit than veg and the sugar intake was most definitely welcome. Coming down from Earth 3 I started to feel a slight light headedness. By Earth 5 I was starving. I managed to maintain my composure and stand by my cause at dinner time while my roommate cooked the most enchanting smelling pasta.

I found Zest 3 absolutely refreshing and the almond mylk interesting to say the least. By the last juice it was nearly 10 pm and I was spent. I must have started too late in the morning as I felt like I had been consuming all day and a bit bloated with water weight. I went to bed hoping to feel lighter in the morning.

Day 2: I approached the second day with the same amount of enthusiasm as the first and was really ready to do this thing. I didn’t feel in the slightest that I would break. Two juices in however my tummy gave a rumble.

Throughout the afternoon I truly got to understand what the meaning of ‘cleanse’ was all about. By late afternoon I felt back to ‘normal’ in juicing terms and looked forward to one juice to the next. Simple mentions of solid food items and the normal task of walking by a restaurant made me talk in detail about the ‘could be’ but I knew it was all in my head. Things became a bit awkward that evening when I went to a friend’s house and BYO’d my juice to his dinner gathering, strong and proud.

Day 3: Despite not being able to finish my Slippery Elm the night before, I woke up hungry again. However, overall for the last day I felt great! While my intention wasn’t to use this as mechanism for dieting, overall I felt lighter and tighter and I anticipate over the next few days as I transition back to solid food the water bloating will reduce.

As the afternoon wore on I noticed that my intervals between juices were getting shorter. The hunger pains were definitely increasing, but I also wonder if it was my subconscious knowing I was getting closer and closer to ‘real’ food.

During  my first two days I felt the need to keep my juicing a secret in the office but by day 3 I had a few converts convinced. On the last day I joined my friend to Hawthorn’s Pressed Juices store as he wanted to try it out on a one day trial. Shopkeeper Morgan did an awesome job explaining the various cleanses and juice combinations and for a second I was tempted to even go for day 4.

However, going to bed knowing that I completed this awesome, healthy challenge made me feel empowered and gave me the want to continue to think more healthily about how I approach my eating and drinking habits – even if it is just for a short time before I get distracted again.  Baby steps are best but I will definitely take Morgan’s recommendation of trying a 3 day cleanse seasonally.

Favorite Juices: Earth 3, Zest 3 and Black Lemonade
Least Favorite Juice: Slippery Elm, Green 2
Pressed Juices: Thanks for such an awesome experience. One tip, your bottles are so hard to open butI look forward to seeing you move from plastic to glass in the near future, and in Richmond soon!

Lisa Vecchio with Pressed Juice

Lisa Vecchio with Pressed Juice

Christmas in South Australia


Port Neill Bay

My first Christmas in Australia, what can I say. Simply put I was sold on the promise I was going to shear a sheep.

Christmas away from home will never replace Christmas as I know it, nor should it try to.  But at a minimum this Christmas gave me insight into a new Australia. I wanted to avoid the feeling of Christmas but in the end I walked away with more than I could have anticipated.

I flew to South Australia the evening before Christmas Eve to spend the holidays with my flat mate Wes and his family. All I knew about where I was going is that I would first fly the hour to Adelaide, then get on a small commuter plane and after arriving in Port Lincoln drive another hour north. Tell that to any Australian and they nod, “ah the middle of nowhere”.

Peering out of the window before landing in the Eyre Peninsula, farmland stretched for hundreds of miles then hit the sea. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen the contrast of country and sea smashed against each other. I started picturing mermaid sheep.  Mer-sheep? But once I arrived I was greeted with such gracious hospitality that didn’t stop until I boarded the plane back to Melbourne.

Rockeby Farm Pantry

Rockeby Farm Pantry

I spent that first evening on Rockeby Farm, the family farm Wes grew up on. Driving down the pitch-black dirt roads late at night, the air quiet, I squirmed at the thought of knowing that there was no one around for miles. Everyone knows I’m scared of the dark. But the old farmhouse, built in early 1900s, was warm and I spent a few hours getting to know his parents, Sue and Mark, who kindly taught me a bit about their farm properties as we sipped a few wines. We spent only that first night on the country farm though and were off to the beach in Port Neill for the next few days.

But first Wes took me to town. We spent Christmas Eve morning sitting on the Tumby Bay pier eating fresh chicken sandwiches from Ritz Café, watching a young boy expertly fish alone off of the side, as Wes told me stories about growing up in such a small, rural area. Tumby as it’s known, is a good 30 minutes from the farm and is where he went to school – one school for all children from kindergarten to 12th grade. There were 46 kids in his grade when he started; he graduated with 16 and was only one of 6 to go to university. Talk about small town ambition.

Fishing in Tumby Bay
Tumby Bay Pier

He then whisked me away to Boston Bay Wines, a small boutique vineyard and cellar door set on a hill where the vines overlook the ocean, just outside of Port Lincoln. We sampled the gamut and stocked up for Christmas with their Sauvignon Blanc, Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon and award winning Riesling.

Lavendar Farm
Dellacolline Estate
Boston Bay Wines

There was no stopping us there, so we were off to Delacolline Estate next. Stepping out of the car we were greeted with the sound of hundreds of bees chatting away over their afternoon lunch.  I was so ecstatic at the thought of visiting my first lavender farm, the sweet scent overwhelmed the property and the fields of purple snuggled next to the vines made for a beautiful backdrop. Not to mention the 2005 Riesling was a stand out and we also couldn’t resist a bottle of Sparkling Shiraz, as it’s an Aussie Christmas tradition after all.

The Eyre Peninsula is known to be one of the purest seas in the world. Remote and desolate, with many untouched bays it makes for pristine fishing grounds. It’s a region that prides itself on sustainability and is where seafood such as oysters, abalone, tuna, prawns and more is exported from daily.  Of course I had to try some. Sarin’s Restaurant in the Port Lincoln Hotel is the best spot in town to devour the famous Coffin Bay oysters, which is exactly what we did before stopping off in quiet and stunning Coffin Bay itself.

Coffin’s Bay
Port Lincoln Tuna Farm
Port Lincoln
Oysters at Sorin’s

We stayed at the beach house for the next few nights, and that evening I accompanied his parents and siblings to the local pub. Wes unfortunately had an emergency oyster spew on our ride home so recovered in bed alone. In a town of 300 people, the one pub is where everyone, and I mean everyone, goes for a social gathering; parents, grandparents and small children included. I felt a treat being introduced as the foreigner from far away America and giggled to myself as it seemed every second person was named Hannah.

I woke up Christmas morning to a quiet house and decided to start the day with a run on the beach. As I approached the half-moon bay of Port Neill, Mark’s words at the pub the night before couldn’t ring in any truer. He told me, “Why go to a beach with lots of people? If there’s people, just go to the next one”.  I told him I never knew such a luxury.

Port Neill Beach

Port Neill Beach

As I began to run, I saw the sand ahead, the water clear blue to my right and the sun beaming down against it; and that’s when I got emotional. I think it hit me all at once. The sparkling water and unexpected beauty really let the distance and pure remoteness sink in. Christmas, and this couldn’t be any more of a contrast of what I’d be doing at home. It’s exactly what I asked for if I couldn’t have the real thing. In that moment I felt the luckiest person in the world, and it was a moment for me that was incredibility awesome.

Even more awesome was when I got back to the house I had eggs and bacon waiting for me. We then exchanged a few gifts. I was overjoyed for the generous touch of perfume from my flat mate and homemade heating pad Sue made with grain from the farm, a gift I had been secretly hoping for. Even more special was the Christmas-themed box and stocking that made its way from the US then onto the plane with me so I could open a gift from my family on Christmas morning. The day followed with an impromptu game of tennis in the sun, some reading and sunbathing and the enjoyment of our wine purchases from the day prior.

Wes watering flowers in the sun

Watering flowers

Boxing Day, while still very casual and relaxed, was celebrated with even more grandeur as all of Wes’ 3 siblings and their partners, as well as his grandparents attended at the beach house for a traditional seafood lunch feast.  As I cracked open my popper, I found myself realizing I’ve picked up some Aussie slang like the common contradictory response of “yea, no”. The outback must have gotten to me.

Before getting too settled in Mark had myself, Wes’ brother Lewis and girlfriend Chelsea out on his boat at dusk to catch the next day’s lunch. Chelsea and I caught 7 snoek between the two of us, a great success as it was her first time fishing.

On my final day Mark, Wes and I headed back to the farm. Unfortunately due to the holidays there wasn’t enough time to get the sheep ready for shearing. Mark made up for it though and gave me a full tour of the farm. First he emptied the trough, and then Wes and I hopped out of the cab of the truck to herd 340 lambs from one paddock to the other. We simply walked along through the fields, both casually and slowly, and those fools just kept running away…right where we wanted them to go. My deed was done.

Emptying the trough
Rockeby Farm
Lamb butts
Wes herding lambs

That evening we BBQ’d the most exquisite, uhum, lamb for dinner then ended in the late hours laughing till I cried playing the vulgar game Cards Against Humanity the Australian edition with the family.

Thank you Wes, Sue, Mark, Lewis, Karl and Hannah for your amazing hospitality, beautiful homes and an amazing holiday adventure!

Game On Adelaide: A Weekend of Food and Wine


Adelaide’s pretty rad – and there’s more to it than the mocking nickname of ‘Rad-elaide’. Ever since I first visited in 2011 I’ve stood behind its defense, but even more so now that I’ve learnt on my most recent visit that is has made a conscious effort to play cultural hard ball.

This trip no doubt contained another visit to the Barossa Valley disguised behind a work-related conference held at the Adelaide Convention Center. With the Intercontinental, albeit a bit dated, in a prime location overlooking the Adelaide Oval and the beautiful running tracks along the River Torrens, I was already set up to achieve great sights.

IMG_2540

River Torrens

Upon arriving I gave my friend a tour of the small city.  We started along North Terrace beside University of Adelaide’s beautiful 19th century sandstone buildings, a contrast against the neighboring modern architecture of its newer lecture halls.

Looping around at Rundle Park took us onto Rundle Street, home to boutiques, cafes, pubs and assortment of restaurants. For a sunny Friday afternoon we stopped off in the Belgian Beer Café and historic pub the Austral for a few pints to start the holiday off.

Lisa Rundle Street

Rundle Street

Rundle Street turns into Rundle Mall where you can find most of your common name brand stores like Meyer, Sports Girl, JB Hi-Fi and the likes. Most famously on the corner of Rundle Mall and Hindley Street sits Australia’s oldest family owned chocolate maker, Haigh’s Chocolates.

My perception of Adelaide was turned upside down when I discovered Peel Street later that evening. Here sits the latest note-worthy restaurant in the city with the same name, Peel Street, and it’s a must stop off (restaurant bookings required). The closest thing Adelaide has in comparison to big sister Melbourne, this small laneway has a splattering of hip bars and underground cocktail lounges to make any local feel privileged thanks to the new small venue license recently instated to help entrepreneurs bring a new vibe to the CBD.

Highlights include Clever Little Tailor, a tiny bar offering a variety of top notch spirits and hand crafted beers set against the original exposed brick and structure. Next door, dine at Bread and Bone Wood Grill for a quick and fancy burger or dog. They really are all the rage but we went a bit rogue by ordering the fish and pork belly, both also to be admired. The waiter kindly offered us entry into the cocktail lounge downstairs, Maybe Mae, where I felt as if I entered some secret world found only in the 1920s, green leather booths, plush carpet and drinks served in crystal. One more stop across the street at Mexican inspired Chihuahua Bar for a wine and a lovely chat with the want to be rock star spun bartender before calling it a night as we had a full day of wine touring ahead of us.

Since I’ve made my rounds in the world-renowned Barossa Valley previously, this time the goal was to visit boutique wineries in a small group to uncover the greatest Shiraz presented to me. Cellar Door Wine Tours asked in advance where we wanted to visit and hand crafted the itinerary amongst all the guests’ top picks.

Murray Street Vineyard
Barossa Valley Vineyards
Maggie Beer
Maggie Beer
Penfolds Wines
Cafe Y
Turkey Flat
Turkey Flat
Yaldara Estate
  1. Murray Street Vineyards was the perfect first stop, as we tasted while sitting around a square table so that all 10 guests had the opportunity to get to know each other. It was refreshing to be greeted by a young host, as Ryan was enthusiastic and knowledgeable, specifically as he demonstrated double aeration. I wanted to walk away with the Gomersal Estate 2010 Shiraz but was nervous to purchase any wine too early in the day– my greatest regret for sure.
  2. Maggie Beer is a gourmet food brand well known by dinner party hosts and the like. The beautiful shop sits on top of an aqua green lake making it a fantastic picnic spot. The best part about the small shop is there is something to taste in nearly every nook and cranny – from fig paste to pate to cider and caramel topping. I spent my time devouring enough homemade bread dipped in olive oil and damper to hold me over until lunch. I also took note of the cooking school that could be a good excuse to come back.
  3. Penfolds was my biggest disappointment of the day. While this isn’t boutique in anyone’s mind, it was a special request from another guest. Honestly, what they offer on tasting is the same as what you can buy in the liquor store and it was only the Tawny I was tempted to buy until I found out that too is distributed in my local bottle shop.
  4. Chateau Yaldara and Café Y is where we stopped for both a tasting and lunch. I wasn’t too impressed with their wines except their sparkling Shiraz and while you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, I definitely would recommend they undergo a branding exercise for their labeling. Luckily the family-owned cafe made up for it with lunch that was described to us by the son in the most intimate detail and while I’m not much of a pasta lover I couldn’t resist the duck ravioli.
  5. Rockford Wines interestingly do their tastings in an old horse stable making it a unique atmosphere for the much anticipated tasting. This winery was our tradeoff for Grant Burge (the one we asked to visit) being too busy. I found the pourer entertaining as he reminded us of Murray from Flight of the Concords so I walked away with a bottle of their Tawny as a Christmas present for my hosts.
  6. Turkey Flat is one of the oldest boutique vineyards in the region. I was sold on a bottle of the now-sold-out 2012 Cabernet as the wine maker was both very chatty and informative, reminding us that 2010 and 2012 were the good years for grapes after the drought. I also couldn’t resist buying the cheeky fortified NV Pedro Ximenez too.

The biggest surprise from the day was the amount of cabernet sauvignon coming out of the Barossa Valley. I truly didn’t expect it and while I didn’t find a long lasting lover in Shiraz to take home, it did make me have a deep think about how much my taste buds have changed as of late.

Back in Adelaide central, one more spot not to miss is the Gouger Street restaurants and the Adelaide Central Market. My absolute, hands down, no questions asked top notch visit was to Cork Wine Café who specialize in organic and biodynamic wines from all over the world. I melted over the La Distesa 2013 ‘Terra Silvate’ Verdicchio and Architects of Wine 2013 Chardonnay. As they do tasting flights, with quite generous pours mind you, it was easy to fall into place here for a few hours.

With so many restaurants to choose from on Gouger Street, primarily deriving from Asian influence, it was hard to choose. Thankfully the staff from Cork Wine recommended the two best places (and most sought after as we couldn’t get a table until 9 pm so book ahead) on the strip including Little NNQ and Concubine.

For a quick weekend of social activities before putting on my work hat we sure managed to cover a lot of ground, including Jamie Oliver’s latest wave to hit Adelaide Jamie’s Italian. But Adelaide, you’re still missing one key element before you can truly reach your cultural trophy and that is – what’s open for breakfast?

Uluru: where camel is the new skinny


Uluru Camel Trail 2

I’m out of breath. My heart is racing to the point that I think it might even be boiling. It’s 106 degrees Fahrenheit and I’m standing in dry heat in the center of Australia. Red dirt, green bush and flies. Oh, the flies. What seems like millions of them buzzing in my ear, my nostrils, my eyes. I can’t keep my concentration or focus on the incredible Walpa Gorge in Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park because of the constant buzz. I’ve only been off the plane for less than an hour and the green fly net covering my face has become my new favorite accessory.

I’m awake at 5:20 am on day 2. We hike through the long grass up to Imalung Lookout to watch the sun rise over Uluru. It’s pretty magnificent. By 8 am we’re at the base of the enormous rock to join park ranger Steve for the free Mala walk. Steve shares with us stories about aboriginal culture and introduces the fauna and wildlife. He’s passionate yet I also sense bitterness over the much controversial topic of climbing the rock. This guided walk is one of the few free things to do but it’s slow and ventured over 2 hours so we escaped before the end.

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By 10:30 am the sun becomes intense. We hire bikes and begin the 10.5k ride around the base of the rock. By 11 am the tracks have all been closed off for the day because of the heat. About half way through my thoughts get the best of me. The heart boiling sensation returns and I attach my mouth to the Camelback resting in my bike basket like an umbilical cord. There’s no giving up though. We’re literally in the outback with no one else around. There is no escape route or emergency eject button.

By the time we’ve returned I’ve coined Ayer’s Rock Resort a decrepit Disneyland. Sun faded, run down with nowhere else to go. I’m hungry and feel trapped. It might be the Melbourne food snob in me but I’m completely underwhelmed by my options. The wallaby shank from the more upmarket restaurant Bough House was average and the noodles from Ayer’s Wok were bland yet cleverly marketed. Luckily we brought some decent chardonnay with us and snagged some crumbled aged cheddar from the grocery store to treat ourselves back in the hotel room.

It’s been a long day but there is still one more thing on the agenda, a camel ride to view the sunset over the Olgas. Jesse and I get paired up with Tas, one of the smaller camels from the group of eight roped together in a conga line.

We were greeted with a good-humored safety briefing and were educated throughout the 1-hour ride on camel back. I learned that Australia is home to the largest population of wild camels in the southern hemisphere and the only feral camels left in the world. The exact number of wild camels is unknown but they guess anywhere from 500K to a million. In fact, Australia exports its camels to the Middle East.

Camel meat is full of protein and I’m anticipating it will be the new fad diet to join kangaroo and crocodile. Camel burgers truly are the new skinny.

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Just as the sun was setting we stopped propped up on a hill to witness the beautiful hues change from blue to orange and then dusk hit. Pete, the large camel tied behind Tas kept giving Jesse kisses and snuggles. Once back at the ranch we were given the most delicious damper (bread) and a healthy offering of beer and wine.

This tour was my most anticipated part to the trip and I applaud Uluru Camel Tours for exceeding my expectations. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for the 4-hour delay we had at the airport the following day on our return to Melbourne.

To visit Uluru, one of Australia’s most iconic destinations, was definitely a bucket list item I’m so proud to have ticked.

Brisbane’s become cooler than me


Everyone always digs on Brisbane. Even when I first moved to Australia it was all “it’s too small; everything closes early; there’s nowhere good to eat.” Compare it to likes of Sydney or Melbourne, and yeah, I get it. But guess what haters, at some point since moving away a year and a half ago, Brisbane’s upped its ante.

I always said if I could have the culture of Melbourne coupled with the weather of Brisbane I would be set for life. Now, I’m not going to go as far and say it’s been accomplished but seriously Brisbane, you’re picking up your weight.

On my most recent visit I was blown away at the duck liver parfait served at James Street’s trendy Gerard’s Bar. In fact, I added it on my “best thing ever” list and that was even after devouring truffle salami and mackerel tartare. Could the Brisbane dining scene be creeping in Melbourne’s wake?

And as for Fortitude Valley, the once seedy and still may be but only if you don’t know where to go now that Brisbane is cool, nightlife neighborhood, I didn’t go out ‘in’ the Valley but rather ‘under’ the Valley. Greaser, an American themed bar is housed in the cellar of a 130-year-old heritage building offering craft beers, American imports and a stellar whiskey list on the side of classic hot dogs.

Sure, I was still living in town when the hippest thing was old Queensland cottages being converted into uber-chic bars like Alfred & Constance, Kettle & Tin and Sixes & Sevens – as they all have uber-cool names too, but I hear even ‘hippie-haven’ West End has transformed itself upmarket with some new additions in its pocket.

I think it goes without saying another area where Brisbane hasn’t failed us is the craft beer front. From my old hang The Scratch to Tenerife’s Tippler’s Tap and their recent Southbank prodigy Tomohawk Bar and let’s not forget the micro-brewers Green Beacon and classic Bacchus Brewing, Brisbane is where its at.

What’s still not cool is having to leave an establishment to go find a bathroom somewhere down the street rather then in the bar/restaurant/café, but over time you may just get that right too, Brisbane.

In the meantime, I recognize there’s all the extra stuff that even made Brisbane cool back when I was living there. An awesome music scene, a laid back life style and pristine beaches in an arm’s reach, so yeah Brisbane, maybe you were cool all along.

Read more about my adventures in Brisbane here.

Beer sampling at Bacchus Brewery
Beer events at The Scratch
Local band Ball Park Music
‘Cool’ West End bar, The End

How I accidentally became an AFL fan


Okay I’ll admit. I like AFL.

The revelation came to me last night during the semi-finals of Hawthorn vs. Port Adelaide. My eyes were focused, my pulse was racing and the comments coming from my mouth were volatile. In fact, I never anticipated when entering the dark, unassuming warehouse of Moon Dog Craft Brewery that I would witness a large screen projecting the second most awaited game of the season on its back brick wall. Hipsters don’t like football. But Melbourne hipsters do.

And that’s what I think makes it all more appealing. It’s a game like nothing else; call it football or footy or Aussie Rules. It’s a sport that combines the skills of soccer and rugby with a very visually stimulating set of athletes – tall and lean, toned arms and quick speed.

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My second live AFL game at the MCG

Maybe it’s the fact that Melbourne breeds AFL. There are currently 18 teams in the Australian Football League (AFL), half of which are based in Victoria and around Melbourne. It’s a bit of a religion, and during football season you better know which team you support.

I’ll fess up though, I don’t have a team. Nearly a year and a half living in Melbourne and I just can’t choose. I live in Richmond, yet previously lived with a Geelong supporter, casually dated a guy who went for Essenden, but then again Hawthorn is number one. There was also that one time that I partied with a handful of the boys from the Sydney Swans, my other housemate went for Fremantle, and I used to live in Brisbane so have a soft spot for the Lions even though they aren’t very good. You can now see my predicament.

I can only blame this on the boys. Living with two faithful AFL fanatics for a year seemed to have influenced more than I would have thought. During football season our townhouse became an AFL haven. I didn’t have a choice in the matter. From watching countless matches I learned about goals, handballs and kicks. I could associate names and numbers with those players I deemed as hot and which teams they played for.

What pushed me over the edge was my voluntary entrance into the work tipping (betting) pool that lasted the entire season. I’m proud to say I came in 4th place, which is pretty darn good for a first timer. Because there was potential to win a few hundred bucks, I even surprised myself by checking the scores on my phone over the weekend and ensured I got my bets in on time while traveling overseas.

The best part about the madness of football appreciation in Melbourne is that Richmond, the neighborhood I live in, is where the action takes place. The MCG (Melbourne Cricket Grounds) is the 13th largest stadium in the world, and can host 100,024 people. Because there’s a guaranteed game every weekend during season, along with the fact that all of the pre-game bars are a short walk from my residence, whether I want it or not, I’m surrounded by AFL hype. Plus, the large stadium lights are now an iconic symbol of what I’ll always remember Melbourne by.

Melbourne Skyline

Melbourne Skyline and the MCG from my old rooftop

The biggest game of the year, the Grand Final, is scheduled for this coming Saturday. And while I think it would be an experience of a lifetime to attend, the cost for the ticket is what is dissuading me. At the least, I can rest assured that instead of being turned off by the madness that is Grand Final Day at the MCG in Richmond, I welcome the sport and all that comes along with it.

Everything in the world can be on your way


I’ve always been envious of those who have literally traveled around the world. You too likely know someone daring who’s done it. They buy a ‘round the world’ ticket that entitles them to travel to a pre-specified number of continents, then a specific city on each continent, to be used in one direction over a maximum length of time. This type of ticket offers freedom to those people who have time at a very affordable cost. The benefits to an independent traveler mean that they can ‘generally’ stay for as long as they like, move on when ready, and can decide when and how to make the most of their destinations.

Last month I circumvented the globe. I can assume this counts too, but it wasn’t your typical trip or initially intended to be as such. I reclaimed my old haunts while in London, sipped wine in Paris, explored architecture in Oxford before a 12 hour stint in NYC to grab a pint and a snuggle with old friends. I moved on to Charlotte to celebrate my sisters wedding then relaxed on the beaches outside of Charleston before an afternoon of fine dining over lunch with the ladies back in Manhattan. My long hauls took me from Melbourne to London (via Dubai) to New York then back to Melbourne (via LA) and alas, global circumference.

Sitting on multiple planes (for an entire day at times) during this 3 week whirlwind of a holiday sure gave me a lot of time to think. Here are my 5 biggest reflections while circumventing the globe:

  1. Australia really is really, really far away. But it’s not the distance I took note of, by now I’m used to the flight time. What was more interesting is that for the first time since living here for close to 3.5 years the segregation of Australia to the rest of the world became prevalent. I was clueless that I missed out on major global media scandals, was reminded of diversity walking through the streets of New York and how few Americans I encounter living in Australia compared to the constant sound of a hard ‘R’’ that accompanies the American tourists in central London.
  2. Don’t let jetlag control you; jetlag will control you. Despite a motto of ‘just ignore it and it will go away’, jetlag really is the pits. And whilst I was in and out of cities faster than being able to unpack a bag, there was no time to waste on an extra nap or late sleep in. Once you throw a few wines into the mix your body clock is even more thoroughly confused. If you can ride the jetlag wave, all power to you.
  3. Frequent Flyer Status is holy. In a world where I’ve achieved One World Gold status, which entitles me to the business lounge, free food and alcohol, free Wi-Fi, priority check in, priority baggage and occasional upgrades, flying a non-partner airline is like going back in time. The disappointment, as self-entitled as it may sound, to have to pay for wi-fi while waiting to board a flight or annoyingly wait in a ridiculously long and disorderly queue makes me cringe at the thought. I can at least say I witnessed non-Gold perks during all the flights it took to obtain it in the first place.
  4. Waiting to write drains the intensity. I have pages and pages of notes from my trip encapsulating the emotion I felt when stepping outside Victoria Station for the first time in 8 years to seeing my nephew for the first time in 8 months. Unfortunately, there’s too much to say and sometimes it feels all too late. Next time, I’m writing to you on the go.
  5. The world really is a small place, and quite accessible if you make the opportunity to see it all! It is possible to fly around the world – even if you’re not on a yearlong journey with a backpack strapped to your back. And while I’m still envious of those who take an extensive amount of time off to discover the world in one pre-paid for direction, I’ve also discovered that hopping over to London before my trips to New York, or maybe somewhere else in Europe is quite do-able. I don’t need to wait another 8 years to see the places I love.
Louvre

Catching up with an old friend in the rain outside the Louvre, Paris.

London Calling


“Dad, take me to London,” I demanded as an assertive 13 year-old.  He turned right back around and said, “Lisa, save $500 for your airfare and I’ll take you.” Little did he know I’d been saving all along. In fact, I picked up pennies on the street, saved birthday money and hid away change after a trip to the mall. Far sooner than expected I tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Dad, I have $500, when are we going to London?”

My love for all things English was irrevocable. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind about the ‘why’ behind my gravitational pull to the city nicknamed “The Smoke.”

Yes, I might have had an above average obsession with the British band Oasis. I watched documentaries, bought B-side and unreleased tapes from independent record stores and had my walls plastered with concert posters while other girls my age wrote teenage heartthrob JTT (Jonathan Taylor Thomas) love letters each week.

It started even earlier than that though. With an English grandmother, I have a particular fond memory of her brother, Great Uncle George, reciting this poem and the comical rhymes of “absoid” and “boid” in his posh London accent:

Spring is sprung, the grass is ris

I wonders where the birdies is

They say the birds is on the wing

Ain’t that absurd?

I always thought the wing was on the bird

Finally, on a cold, autumn night in November 1996 I was on my first British Airways flight from Philadelphia with touch down at Heathrow.

I was wowed at the cultural elegance over high-tea at Harrods, fascinated by eating greasy fish and chips out of a newspaper in the Cotswolds and drank too much tea it kept me up at night afraid of the ghosts that must lurk in the old bed and breakfasts. And I wanted more of it all!

When I applied to university my minimal requirement was that there was an exchange program abroad to London. Even when the study abroad advisor aggressively nudged me to try something ‘different,’ I let her know her efforts of persuasion were wasted on me. I was going to London. In fact, I was going to go earlier than suggested (second year instead of third), so I could go back again my fourth year.

I arrived in 2003 with a big grin, a chest full of anxiety and feigned confidence by shaking hands with every person residing in my Nottinghill flat. I was 19, and had the whole of London at my fingertips.

I knew to pretend to be asleep on the night bus so I didn’t have to pay the fare, drank Fosters with Aussie and Kiwi boys who swore it’s not a beer that’s drunk in Australia (it’s true, it’s not), and tried to re-assure my lecturers that although I was leaving class early, it was crucial that I couldn’t miss my flight over to Barcelona for the weekend yet I would have my assignment handed in on time.

In a span of 4 months I had visited 8 countries, fallen deeper in love with London than I could have anticipated and had a very hard time acclimating into routine university life once back in America. There was only one solution, I had to go back.

In 2005 I participated in a mini-mester (short semester) in Edinburgh studying global communications at Napier University. I lived in a hostel, stayed up way too late, drank too many pints, and traversed nearly the entire country. Today I’ve been to the Edinburgh Castle at least 5 times in my life, which frankly, is too many. At the end of the course my class boarded a plane to Baltimore while I boarded a different plane to London. Just a quick trip to just double check…yup, it’s still there.

When everyone asked about post-graduation plans I had my mind made up, I was going to move to London. My sister produced luggage tags as my graduation announcement and then the questions started flooding in. When are you going? Do you have a job lined up? A visa? The thing is I didn’t have a plan. I couldn’t get a visa without sponsorship, and I couldn’t get sponsorship without a visa. I just didn’t have enough experience behind me to get a job abroad.

Defeated, I took a backseat for a while. I got a job in marketing, related to my career goal, check. But, I lived at home. There were fewer and fewer friends in town and life was truthfully, boring.  I sat in a Starbucks one afternoon and tried to get my head around what I could do to change things. I re-read my old diary from my time studying abroad in London. There were stories of a 48 hour bender in Dublin to catch an Oasis gig, meeting the president of Sony entertainment at a bar in Leicester Square, and passing time napping on the grass in Hyde Park. Simply reading about the excitement and buzz I felt when traveling abroad was all I needed to motivate me to find a way to get there again.

After months of eating the Great Wall of Chocolate dessert from PF Changs to drown my misery, I partnered with my old friend Google and came across the Mountbatten Institute. A very different program than what it is today, Mountbatten offered me every opportunity I was looking for: sponsorship, a job, friends, higher learning and a visa. Cha-ching.

That next year changed my life forever. I met life-long friends who are still my trusted travel companions today, all while making our mark from the northeast corner in Maida Vale and Kilburn Park far across to East London to hang with our new South African friends (read about it here). I had it all, a marketing and event job that had me planning events in Tower Bridge, Paris, Amsterdam and Portugal, educational courses on international business across England and in Paris, and weekend adventures on budget airlines all over Europe with a crazy new group of friends. From 2006-2007 we visited 14 countries.

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I had thought I knew all there was about London from my quick study stint in 2003, but it wasn’t until I had a whole year that I discovered there was so much more to enjoy – curries on Brick Lane, live music and too many more pints to count. Sitting on the crowded Tube each morning, a commuter with the rest of them, London was my home. Sadly, another visa expired and it was back to life in America.

You can read about the vow I made to myself during the 4 years I lived across the river from New York City in Hoboken, New Jersey to visit the rest of the world – anywhere but Europe. In the meantime, I gathered documents and paperwork up to wazoo and was granted a European Union passport in 2012. You know what that means, right? I can legally live and work in London, or anywhere in Europe for that matter.

So why am I telling you all this? London is calling and in just a few hours I’ll be boarding a plane that’s landing at Heathrow. Albeit a short visit to my favorite city in the world, I’ve never been more excited!

Queenstown: A Solo Adventure


I intently stared out of the window, camera in position as we descended out of the cloudbank and into view of the vast snow tipped mountains called the Remarkables. This landscape is absolutely extraordinary.

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The plane began to shake as we entered the windy valley between the incredibly close mountain ranges, then all of the sudden, oomph. My head smacked the side of the window and my tray table unfastened itself from the locked position. Panic. We must have dropped a few feet before leveling out again. “Don’t worry,” said the flight attendant over the intercom. “It’s just the wind between the mountains, nothing to be alarmed about.”

Welcome to Queenstown! A buzzing town of snow bunnies crossed with adventure sports, breathtaking scenery and world-renowned pinot noir sipped against the backdrop of white capped peaks.

“Are you skiing?”  “Snowboarding then?” “So, what are you doing here?”  My reply was simple, I’m here to eat well and drink wine. Snow Sheep Queenstown In a town where every other backpacker, boys weekend or family vacation seem to hit the slopes or jump off either one of the tallest or oldest bungy’s in the world, is it possible to enjoy yourself as a single traveler not in the slightest interested in the above? Sure is. I’d even rate Queenstown as not only my number one favorite destination in New Zealand but at the top of my books all around. So what’s there to get up to?

The Bars:

I hung with the locals at Atlas Beer Café, deemed Queenstown’s home of craft beer including microbrew Emerson’s (go with the English Porter on the hand pump) along with some guest taps and locally sourced food, like the lick smacking steak with demi-glace and Café de Paris butter, served with a side salad and fries.

The Find, previously known as The World Bar, was a great place to go solo. Maybe it’s just because Queenstown, unlike many Aussie bars, actually have bar stools at the bar. There’s nothing better than saddling up at the bar for a snack staring up at the teapots which house cocktails for the backpackers who trickle in later in the evening.

And lastly, cozy, dimly lit places like The Bunker  and Bardauex offer extensive New Zealand wine collections and a soothing, chilled out atmosphere with big comfy sofas around outdoor fire pits or indoor blazes.

This is between all of the countless bars and nightclubs including Cowboy’s, Winnie’s and Searle Social Club amongst many other late night spots where you can find inebriated late teens and early twenty-something’s, and myself on one or two occasions, dancing the night away.

The Wine:

But then let’s not forget it was the wine I came for.

The Winery is a storefront that offers a taste of over 80 different New Zealand wines. Grouped by variety, the philosophy of this place is simple, yet expensive. Insert your “wine card” and choose from a taste, half glass, or full glass of some of the most desired wines in the region. At about an average of $5 a taste, I tried a few high-end Pinots then called it day.

This was after I went on my Queenstown Trail: Original Wine Tour just the day before. Lance, a 20 year wine-guide veteran led us to four different wineries in the Gibbston Valley, Central Otago. I’d rate them as such:

Best Tasting Room: Gibbston Valley Winery – set in New Zealand’s largest wine cave

Best Tasting Host: Waitiri Creek – Jason, the vineyard manager of this family owned winery passionately and simply broke down the chemistry of wine making into terms us normal-folk could understand

Best Wine: Remarkable Wines – only winery where I enjoyed the whole range; walked away with the 2009 Pinot Noir

Best Notoriety: Amisfield – while I can’t afford their both delicate and elegant vintages, Will and Kate famously made a stop here on their recent visit

The Food:

When in New Zealand it’s all about the lamb, oysters and prime cuts of beef.

I felt I was back in Melbourne while dining at Madame Woo, an eclectic modern Asian restaurant with delectable sticky pork belly dishes and thick curry’s set to tune of some of my favorite bands like the Kooks and Cold War Kids.

While Vudu Café is rated the number one brunch spot, you’d be lucky to score a seat. Instead, Bob’s Weigh Café was a smaller, simpler option serving great muesli and rumored the best coffee in town.

The Great Outdoors:

Skiing, snowboarding, snowshoeing aside, in town there are still a few options.

While the number one activity is to ride the Skyline Gondola up Bob’s Peak, I decided to take the bolder way up: my two feet. It took an hour from the base to zig zag through the forest up the mountain following the Tiki Trail. I’m not going to say it was easy, but nothing any reasonably fit person couldn’t handle with a few huff and puff’s in between Gatorade guzzling breaks. Even better, the trail was absolutely quiet. Only every so often I’d run into another hiker passing down on the trail. The best part was finally reaching the top and the breathtaking views over Lake Watakipu. Lake Wakatipu Once at the summit there are a few options from dining, bungying, zip-lining, more hiking or the luge. And while the luge came highly recommended from a charming traveler I met, after standing in line for an hour in freezing rain sandwiched between two families with small, irritating children, my ride down the ‘scenic track’ was more of an escape effort if anything. With the rain coming down too heavy to hike back down Bob’s Peak, I coughed up the steep fair of $19 for the Gondola ride back into town. Queenstown Luge The People:

And none of my above experiences would have been so great if I was truly alone in it all. There were kind, approachable people that I met along the way. From an impromptu pub-crawl to discover the town with a friendly Norwegian, to the American and Aussie girls from my wine tour who invited me along to dinner and the handsome Irish boy who bought me chocolate/chocolate-chip ice cream. It was only on the last day as I sat in a café to escape the cold and rain before flying back to Australia that I had a sense of being alone, but luckily a book and one last English Porter did the trick.