Australia

Groovy Grapes


Traveling through Adelaide Hills in South Australia with Groovy Grape Getaways on my way to the Barossa Valley I rested my head on the mini-bus window and gazed at the world going by. Rolling hills encompassed with varying shades of green on green; rows upon rows of vines. They seemed endless as we traveled further away from the city of Adelaide deeper into wine country.

Our first stop was to The Big Rocking Horse and The Toy Factory, home of the largest rocking horse in the world. It was just a quick break to rev up on coffee and take a photo snap before moving on. For $2 you can climb it, could be a bucket list fulfillment for some, but I found warmth inside and watched an older gentleman through the glass windows of the workers factory assemble a child size rocking horse from freshly carved wood. Then it was time to move on.

The Whispering Wall is said to be an engineering phenomenon. What looks just like a huge concrete dam in the middle of the Barossa Reservoir is in fact an unusual masterpiece known for its parabola effect. At first glance I didn’t quite get it, but my guide urged a few of us down the small steps at the start of one end to begin whispering. I hesitated to be the one to go first, but it had to be done. “Hello…” I said into the wall, feeling a bit silly. There were a handful of tourists standing only a few feet above me making their way to the other side so I had assumed I was just overhearing them speaking. “Where are you from?” I heard back.

Giggle, giggle, its working! “Um…the States.” “I’m from Victoria,” he replied. “Just visiting for the weekend with my family.” And that was that. I was a bit shy about the whole thing so told him it was great to chat and let some of the others have a go. I left feeling a bit dumbfounded that I had just had a conversation with someone over 100 meters away.

It was just after 11 am as we pulled into the first winery of the day, world famous Jacob’s Creek. Before the tasting we went on a mini-tour at the Jacob’s Creek Visitor’s Centre to learn a bit about the history of the vineyard. The grounds were gorgeous, and perfectly manicured, a big part being the eco friendliness of solar panels, recycled timber beams, and over 4500 native Australian flora. Yeah, and the wine was pretty tasty too but I thought I’d save my pennies for a less mainstream vineyard.

Next we pulled into Kies, a cute family run vineyard to enjoy another tasting and relaxed bbq lunch. I was smitten by the Klauber Block Shiraz and purchased a bottle for safe keeping. What I find most interesting as I travel all over Australia and New Zealand, often tasting wines, is that Shiraz is not something I appreciate much in the States, however have acquired a small fondness as I experiment more and more its regions of origin.

Line up, line up. Sausages, steaks, veggies, salad, and mmm mmm mmm kangaroo. We enjoyed a lovely casual lunch outside under the gazebo amongst roses and lush landscape. Seeing I was by myself,  it was great to catch up with a backpacker from France, another from Sweden, and a cute pair of older women – best friends in their 70s – who make it a priority to travel once a year together wherever $2000 will get them. Hint, hint friends…let’s make this our new annual get together plan from now until we’re 70! I thought it was so great.

At the chateau of Richmond Grove we toured the cellars and learnt a bit about barreling. I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about any particular wines so enjoyed the tasting but didn’t make any purchases. Many of the grape varieties grown here are shared with Jacob’s Creek. I learnt that 2011 was not a good year, but 2002 and 2008 were, and 2012 is looking promising so take note.

Our last visit was to Seppeltsfields where I tried for the first time a sparkling Shiraz. Quite an interesting sensation in the mouth as sparkling or bubbly reds aren’t something I’ve come across before however are meant to be the perfect complement to bacon and eggs breaky. Seppeltsfields is most famously known for its fortified wines like tawny and port and was a great place to have a wander amongst the vintage bottles secured in glass cabinets, some over 100 years old.

After departing it was a straight shot back to the city. We said our goodbyes as the guide dropped each guest to the respective hotel or hostel. I was happy to check comfortably in to the Stamford Plaza before beginning my week long work trip out to the local universities.

Put It On The List


Thesetwoeyes.com was recently featured in Bucket List Publications. An exciting day for me, but as I got to thinking I wanted to return the favor and give BLP a proper shout out. You see, Leslie Carter turned what was once her travel blog into a publication that features other people dreams coming true, or what one would refer to as a their “Bucket List”.  Aside from taking submissions for articles, she also accepts submissions of bucket list requests, and works with donations to help conquer other people’s dreams.

Humph, a bucket list, ey. Now, my immediate thought was what kind of cool thing can I write about and ideally get for free. But then I realized, I’m not adventurous. I do not have sky diving, great white shark swimming, bungee jumping, river rafting, mountain climbing dreams on my horizon. I have respect for those who do, however let’s be realistic, I’m a huge wuss.

The thing is, lately I’ve been fairly content with my accomplishments. That’s not to say I don’t want more. I think the most difficult thing about traveling is knowing there is so much more you can do, so many more people you can meet, food to try, landscapes to see. I am not ungrateful for what I have already done mind you.

Once the travel bug bites it does not go away. Reading articles on Bucket List Publications makes me feel envious of those who write about safaris in Africa and treks through the Amazon. But I am too aware that others can say the same for my travels. That’s the hardest part. When you surround yourself with other travelers it’s all so every day. It’s easy to be less mindful that you are sharing experiences in a unique subset of society.

This past weekend I had casual conversations with a handful of people about Vietnam’s best travel spots. Vietnam did you say? I sure did. I could count on two hands people I’ve encountered in my life who swear up and down that Vietnam is a beautiful country, with rich history, culture, fabulous food and a price tag that would make you go, saaayyyy what? Cheap.

Telling your parents your spending thousands of dollars when you own not one item of value to your name to travel to Vietnam is like your child telling you in 20 years that they are vacationing in Iraq. See what I’m getting at?

So before I arrived on the continent of Australia you could say I had a “Bucket List” of things to accomplish. I’ve reached deep into my nightstand drawer to dust off my uhum journal from when I first arrived. I’ll tell you what it says, shhh.

  • New Zealand: Check
  • Uluru:
  • Melbourne: Check
  • Asia: Check
  • Quit Smoking: Check
  • Lose Weight: Check/Uncheck/Check/Uncheck
  • Byron Bay: Check
  • Western Australia:
  • Outback:
  • Friends: Check
  • Wineries: Check
  • Indonesia/Bali:

Looks like I’ve still got some work to do. But would I call these my official bucket list? Would I look back and have regrets for not booking the first flight to the middle of the country to climb a sacred red rock? Maybe a small amount.

So here I am again, ponder ponder, what do I truly desire, if I could go anywhere, try anything. And I think and I think and I come to the realization that, well, I want to live abroad; but I currently am. I want to live in London; I’ve done that twice. I want to travel the world; this year I will have reached 30 countries if I make it to South Africa in October. I want dear friends; I have plenty. I want a loving family; they love me too much.

So Leslie Carter, I guess as long as you keep publishing my blog posts while I’m lucky enough to actively live my bucket list I will be reading to see who’s dreams you’ve made come true and supporting it 100 percent with gratitude to you and envy of them.

Image

Living the dream. Stradbroke Island, Australia.

Wipe Out


They make it look so natural. Like it’s effortless to paddle yourself into a wave at the precise moment it begins to pick up momentum; then use all of your upper body muscles to stand, whilst balancing yourself and shifting your weight to the right proportions. Include a few sharp turns, 360 degree twirls and a flip in the air to top it all off before riding face first onto the shore to greet thousands of spectators applauding you and taking your photo.

The anticipation of who would be the 2012 Quiksilver Pro champion had been circulating in conversations on the Gold Coast for weeks. Kelly Slater, 11 time world champion, and at the ripe age of 40, was sensed to be the central cause of this. I read in Tracks, the official ASP (Association of Surf Professionals) tour guide that being able to say you’ve witnessed Kelly Slater surf is on the same par with saying you saw Ali fight. I’m unsure if this actually does carry that level of weight, however, I can at least say I saw it. Guess what though, he lost!

Today was the last day of the Quiksilver Pro, stop one of the ASP World Tour, held at Snapper Rocks on the Gold Coast. The past two weeks have been leading up to this day, with competitions going on between men, women (Roxy Pro) and grommets (children). The unfortunate weather of yesterday had everyone wondering if the semi-finals and finals would get pushed back, but thankfully this afternoon was full of blissful sunshine and surf.

Up until this morning the broadcasters would pepper Slater’s name into commentary, increasing the suspense amongst the crowd of when he would finally show. Loyal to their national surfers were the Aussies for big names like Taj Burrow, Joel Parkinson and Owen Wright along with Brazilians supporting Gabriel Medina and Adriano de Souza. Regardless of background though, no one would deny USA born Slater.

Brazilians

During the Pro the usually quiet beach town of Coolangatta becomes the hot ticket. Pop up stores line the beach along Snapper Rocks to include Quiksilver and Roxy merch, food stalls sell healthy snacks, and marketing sponsorships are evident in every crevice. During the evening those working behind the scenes come out to play at trendy nightspots like Komune and Neverland.

Another reason Coolly becomes a hot ticket? Because literally everyone is so damn hot! Beautiful, blond, and toned. Holy mother. Yeah, so when my feet were sinking into the sand and I wanted to rest I had plenty to rest my eyes on. Apparently surfing isn’t as effortless as I suspected. Whew.

I still refuse to go in the water past my knees, so my days of actually attempting to surf are limited. But, I would like to enviously congratulate Taj Burrow who just this afternoon received a check for $75,000 as the winner of the Quiksilver Pro.  Taj has never won a world title, however, this could be his year.

Scratch This


Listen all of y’all this is sabotage! Listen all of y’all this is sabotage! Apparently this popular Beastie Boys song was on repeat all day last Thursday at The Scratch, craft beer bar extraordinaire, in preparation for the Yeastie Boys event held that evening.

Spell Check is on mind you. That reads Yeastie Boys, the boutique New Zealand brewery specializing in taste bud exploding, nostril flaring nip.  Brew master Stu made a pit stop in good ole Brissy, somewhere he hasn’t been since the late 80’s, to share with us beer loving folk a tale or two to compliment his flavorful science experiments.

Now picture yourself in a basement. Start with four walls, hanging from are oddities like a horned animal skull set above an unpolished piano and an oversized old-school brass record player speaker cut in half. Now, in the far corner add in your grandmothers chez lounge, only it’s been in the garage unused for a few years. Then there is the green couch from your Aunt Myrtle’s tea room, complete with a plush velvet finish. A makeshift table is made from a solo snare drum; don’t tap too loud now. Toward the back of the room a miniature Asian table sits about two feet from the floor, with tiny chairs to go around it, to give your back an awesome hunch.

This is no basement. It sure feels like one to me though. You know, like where you hung out as a teenager sneaking beers and talking gossip with your friends. (Mine was actually a shed out back of a friend’s house, instead of underground but you get the point). The place gives you a sense of…I feel good, I’m with my friends, this furniture has seen its day, good times!

This is the best new bar to hit Brisbane, and of all unsuspecting suburbs, Milton. Upon walking in you’re greeted by what can only seem like old time buds, three dear friends who opened the place just a few months back, with a sampler of what’s on tap today. See that’s how it works here, there’s no fancy nitrogen tap system installed by big name distributers. The boys themselves wheel in the kegs of local microbrews from the alley out back, hook them up to one of the four taps, and when they go, they’re gone. Scratch one off the list and bring in another! I mean, that’s what the chalk board is for, right?

Clearly this is the new local for obvious reasons.

The Scratch

The boys were selling tickets to the Yeastie Boys event weeks in advance, and for $35 we couldn’t refuse their beer loving enticement.  The ticket included 5 healthy samples of Yeastie Boys offerings, including a surprise beer on the newly installed hand pump, in addition to a full crisp beer on arrival. Add to the fact that the boys were around making sure our complimentary shelled peanuts, a Scratch staple, we’re fully filled in between rounds of local cheeses being shared throughout the bar. They’re smart these boys, they’re cute too, but they’re damn smart.

The beer on arrival was the American style, super hoppy, Digital IPA from the tap, and so I was shocked when the first beer of the tasting was the Pot Kettle Black from a bottle. This delicious black IPA, or what others would describe as a hoppy porter, is Yeastie Boys’ biggest seller, bringing in 50% of sales. Mmmm, it’s fantastic, but why so dark so fast? What I had no idea in advance was that Stu himself had received hate mail in response to some of his brews being so alarmingly potent, and therefore, we were starting with the easy stuff. Yikes! I’m glad another advantage of this place is that you can bring in outside food, and with the number of takeaway joints lining Park Road, arriving early to snag a seat and munch down on some Thai was a good choice.

A quick rinse of our glasses and we moved on to the Red Rackham, named after the first movie Stu took his son to go see, which was a fruity Belgian style. You’ll notice a theme of pop culture reference to many of the brew’s names. This was a limited release, and more or less only exists because the wrong yeast was added to an already established beer they were trying to brew, however in the end they got this. Muah, it’s good. Stu tells us New Zealander brewers are more experimental then Australians. As he said this statement, I looked around the crowded bar as I was curious if anyone had taken offense.

Stu from Yeastie Boys telling us what we need to know

In between nibbles of goat cheese, oh my gosh, I question people who don’t know the value in a delicious goat cheese; we transitioned to His Majesty 2011. Served out of a magnum bottle, only one batch of both His and Her Majesty are brewed a year, and His is a more traditional, English IPA, more mild then the American style IPAs that tend to lean heavily on the hops.

It’s about time to get serious. And I mean serious. Up until this very moment, even the boys at The Scratch didn’t know what the mysterious beer in the hand pump was. It was about to be revealed, and I was a bit apprehensive. Whew, thank god the fresh Brie made its way around because holy tomato! All of 50 patrons, which is 10 people less than capacity mind you, however fit into the bar quite comfortably, lined up at the tap to get their taste of Rex Attitude. Even at first pour the smell, whew, the smell, made its way around the bar. To quote dear friend Jacqui, “if a hospital tasted like beer, it would taste like this”.

Aged for 12 months in a chardonnay barrel, the beer itself was only 7% alcohol however is made from 100% pure peated malts. It’s definitely an acquired taste. Interestingly enough though, the final beer of the night was the Imperial Rex; still had the potent, medicinal touch however was more drinkable, at least to me. It was obvious that the two were so intense, yet different enough from each other, that typically one will have a clear preference of one over the other. I think my nostrils still have that stench lingering on them.

The Outcome

So that was it, another great evening at The Scratch and a successful event that has inspired more like it to come. For those that could actually swallow down the Rex Attitude they were encouraged to drink the keg dry, awesome for them. I just can’t wait to see what gets put on the hand pump next. It took longer then I would have liked, but am damn happy to have found a place to call my local.

I’m only happy when it rains


Oh, the rain! Rain rain rain. It’s almost painful without being touched. For the past handful of nights I lay with my window open, falling asleep to the mad rush of rain pellets against the roof, the windows, the pavement, slashing against the trees, car tires screeching, sirens blaring, running water rising higher in the corners of the streets; it’s almost a constant whipping sound. I just think to myself, dear god, not the floods.

I arrived back from the US a mere two weeks ago and immediately the cabbie was reminding me that it is officially one year since “the floods” as it is most commonly referred to.

I can tell you exactly what I was doing this time last year as the water peaked at 14.6 feet in Brisbane city. I was sitting in another city who just years before fought a very similar devastating battle, New Orleans. In between po boy sandwiches and late night shenanigans on Bourbon Street, mixed amongst all day work meetings of course, it was confirmed that I would be moving to Brisbane pending visa approval. Sold on a city that was under water.

And so I’ve returned from a 3 week work/holiday stint in New York ready to take on summer full swing, but I’m met with the damn road block of constant rain! I’ll give it to you straight.

Big Day Out

Big Day Out is a multi-city all day festival. It has a reputation of being for those youngins because it’s a 15+ show, however when I saw the lineup I said myself, of all the new music I’ve exposed myself to the 7 months I’ve been here, how can I deny myself a hard core rage to My Chemical Romance and a nostalgic sing along with long time idol Noel Gallagher? Cleary impossible. So I paid the $175 to go.

I arranged for my Sunday best. I braided my hair the evening before to result in perfect crimps, I removed the packing from my shinny new fanny pack (which have I mentioned has a whole different conotation here?), and I pulled up my socks to the knees and stepped into my gum boots (uhum rain boots). I then knocked on new roomie Kelvin’s door, a manager at a top of the line fashion distributor, to get confirmation that my attire was suiting. What I received in response was a huge laugh. I defended myself stating, perhaps you don’t know I dress for comfort and convenience, over style. So off I went.

I arrived at Roma Street bus station, where I pre-purchased a round trip bus fair to save myself or others the inconvenience of organizing transportation, amongst the plethora of 16 years olds attending the show. I caught my reflection in the mirror and thought two things, holy shnikes my outfit does not look good in one bit, and secondly, am I getting a rush of being too old for this? Shnikes is right! Luckily the bus ride was calm and quiet.

I arrived a good 1.5 hours before my friends so opted for some lunch, a decent scope of the arena, and a first up jam out to the Medics, an unique Aussie indigenous band who’s bassist rocks out like no one I’ve ever seen, seriously! After a quick stop off at Calling All Cars and the Cairo’s my friends have finally arrived and we tango’d with some heavy metal sooo not my speed before I removed my gum boots to relax to California natives Best Coast.

Jacqui and I at BDO

I secretly (I think I just changed the secrecy aspect of it all)  just went to the show for two reasons, amongst some other decent acts I wouldn’t mind having on my score card (Foster the People, Kasabian, Kimbra, Architecture & Helsinki and more), but ideally, it was a hard core rock out to My Chemical Romance and a nod and shake to Noel Gallagher and the High Flying Birds. But holy what, MCR was a disappointment! I’ve seen their shows in London, New York and Philadelphia and they are always a literal pee-in-your-pants raging good time. But on the Gold Coast this energy was low and sound quality bad. I thought it was just them but as I danced my way to Kasabian it was the same, nooooo way, this crowd should be rocking out to this way harder despite the downpour, but no avail.

So when my friends waited in the pouring down rain for Kayne West I walked away to see Noel G, shuffled myself to the second row from the stage and it all came rushing back. I was 13 again belting out Oasis B-sides, known classics, and the good stuff from his new album. Here he was, Noel Gallagher mere meters (whatever that is in feet) from my face. And after all the rain (yes, my gum boots finally came in handy), and after all the running from stage to stage, this was it, just me, myself and I, raging out to Noel Gallagher, my teen idol, and taking the bus back to Brissy with a huge yawn and smile on my face. Yeah, yeah. It may never go away.

Noel Gallagher

Say It Ain’t So


The existence of tomato sauce flavored chips is about as foreign to me as tomato sauce flavored chips. Gross! Apparently lots of things come in tomato sauce, aka ketchup, flavor.

I just found this new delicious restaurant slash craft beer bar not too far from my apartment called Bitter Suite. Beers are awesome, and expensive, and awesome. Yum Sunshine Coast Brewery Porter! Also, the food ain’t too shabby. Pork belly with succulent crackle, mmm whah (like a smack on the tip of your fingers). I just returned from there. Love that the owner recognized me and my love for Porter’s from a few weeks back. Yeah girlfriend.

I fly to New York in less than one week from today. I was hoping my killer tan would impress everyone, I’m not sure if it’s so killer anymore. I was told to not forget my roots when inquiring about how freezing the temperature actually is. Damn’it, its freezing! Back to the beach. Not sure if I can squeeze a last minute sesh in, however would like to point out that the last two occasions I was at the beach, my bathing suit bottoms, known in Aussie slang as togs, were on inside out. Twice! Yes, twice I’ve been lazily tanning and minding my tanning business to have someone point out, “Oh hey dude, you know your bottoms are on inside out!” Uh…twice, really?!?!

There is a rule many folk may be familiar with which states “no shirt, no shoes, no service”. I would like to tell you that that rule does not apparently apply in Australia. No shirt, no problem. Boys don’t wear shirts, a lot. Actually, if they do, it’s probably a singlet, which is what they call a tank top. Which I hear only Californian surfer boys wear, and FYI no one on the US East coast would ever be caught dead in. There is also a tendency to not wear shoes. Like a lot, again. Most often I see this in grocery stores. Service is all of a different standard, so no problem.

I’m back in time a bit, but as the much anticipated Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part I was released, I was pleasantly entertained at the Blue Room Cinebar in Rosalie, a cute suburb crawling with eateries of all cuisine and alfresco seating, displaying much cuteness in every direction (apparently I’m not one with words this evening). Anyways, Blue Room, tickets cost an appreciated $11 in advance, they have a swinging bar to socialize in before the show, and you order bevies and food prior to taking your assigned seat in the small 50 person theatre and they feed you as you watch the movie. Another wine? Press the button and it magically appears while I stare into Edward Cullen’s dreamy eyes and imagine running my hands through his bouffant.

In the US there is this fabulous reality TV show called Beauty and the Geek where they pair “beauties” of super hot chicks who aren’t meant to be fairly intellectually challenged with even the basics of life, with a “geek” who has most likely never a kissed a girl and is unaware of pop culture phenomenon’s. Heaven must love TV series creators! They were smart enough to run Season 2 of Beauty and the Geek Australia, thank G, and although it has expired I had intentions of blogging about its addictive nature months ago, as the Geeks got sweet makeovers and all the sudden turned hot. Just saying, download that for some amusing entertainment, hello Gilly!

Spike, the damn lizard who has lots of relatives that sprawl all over Brisbane, is technically a Goanna. Just thought everyone should know.

While working in Hoboken, New Jersey from 2007 to 2011 my local bar was called The Dubliner. It was an Irish pub that served awesome cole slaw till the management changed and annoyingly took the cole slaw off the menu. I would just say to Ben, the bartender, side of slaw and Yeungling please! And could sit there for hours. Things changed over the years, but that was the gist of it.

The “pub” next to my work now is called The Coro. There is no weekly Thursday HH (happy hour) like there was in Hoboken, but on the occasion that we do go there all bottled beers are only $5, even deliciousness like Leffe. The toilets are see-through until you press the lock, then it goes cloudy so people can’t see you doing your business. These are the vast differences of the Dubliner verses the Coro. I still secretly favor the Dubliner in the old days, where you could sit there with a pint of Guinness by yourself and listen to the Fratellis. Luckily a new boutique beer bar called Scratch just opened in the Milton neighborhood that may soon to be the Coro replacement.

I’m going to quote my friend Anthony who said at the Coro “I’m pretty sure Australia created the plastic currency that’s now used around the world, except in America because your money is made from paper.” Have a think about that.

Finding Nemo


If you’ve been to the Caribbean, a common pastime of east coasters, you may or may not know that there are about 40 species of fish you can encounter while snorkeling through its tropical blue water. The Great Barrier Reef has over 400. This made my odds of finding Nemo a lot more in his favor.

The GBR

Another fun fact: The Great Barrier Reef, or what I like to refer to as the GBR, is the only living thing that can be seen from space. It’s true.

Stinger season is in session!

One may perceive Cairns (pronounced ‘cans’), Queensland’s gateway to the GBR, to be filled with long sandy beaches and palm trees swaying amongst coconut groves. But interestingly enough, you cannot swim in Cairns. The beach is sanctioned off in the center of the city as the odds of getting stung by a jellyfish known as a stinger, or crossing paths with a saltwater crocodile, are high. Instead they built a manmade lagoon, with sand and palm trees and public toilets and the works, directly next to the ocean. It’s basically a big public pool with not as much of the skeevy jeevies that you would get in an inner city public pool because the sun is shining brightly and you’re looking at a beautiful ocean – the gateway to the GBR people.

The Lagoon in Cairns

The city of Cairns is a crossroads of tourist shops, tourist restaurants, and tour companies. It’s a town that thrives on tourism. It’s also a town full of backpackers. No trip would be complete without a night out a Gilligan’s, hostel slash club, with friends Diana and Sean who trekked all the way across the world from sunny Arizona and cold weather turning New York. Stepping out from the airport and into the lobby, flashbacks of being there exactly one year to the date got me excited for what was ahead.  I was in horror when I heard the Macarena played later on out on the patio bar, not because I’m a Cha Cha Slide advocate, but because who seriously plays the Macarena in 2011? It was nothing an inevitable stop off at Pie Face wouldn’t cure. We ended the night with Sean and I, what we thought was whispering, doing calculations of the time difference on his iPhone to set the alarm for the early rise to Port Douglas in the morning.

Gilligans, where class happens

So, although Cairns is characteristically the gateway to the GBR, recommendations from friends advised that because of the masses of tourists, the part of the reef most often visited from the Cairns jump off point is fairly damaged and less exotic. That just meant I could have an excuse to visit somewhere I haven’t been before, beautiful Port Douglas.

All the guide books say that Port Dougie is where the celebs and fancy pants rich people like to go. It’s also where laid back hippies and backpackers on no sort of time allotment go too. We didn’t fit into either of those categories however decided to journey the hour north, sandwiched between the coast on our right and the Daintree Rainforest on our left.

Arriving in Port Dougie I wasn’t sure what to expect. Strung along Four Mile Beach sit exclusive beach havens mixed amongst low budget rooms for rent. The town is a strip of high end restaurants serving fresh fish and relaxed pubs with cover bands. There are two gelaterias. There are also a handful of tourist shops and tour companies. Apparently back in the day Port Douglas used to be the biggest port that far north, now its Cairns. Regardless the whole vibe of the town screams relaxation station.

Four Mile Beach, Port Douglas

We pull in to Dougies, what a place. Firstly, they provide a free bus from Cairns all the way up the coast. They’re a five minute walk to the beach, and a twenty minute walk into town. On first impression I see people reading books in canvas hammocks hanging from palm trees, knapping on wooden beach recliners and cooling off from the scorching heat in the pool. We got escorted to our 3 person room, tv and air con a plus, and walk through the lounge where Jack Johnson plays in the background, the aroma from couples cooking lunch in the large kitchen fills the room, as a few young backpackers play Snooker in the corner while drinking $9 pitchers of beer. I decided at that moment that life was awesome.

For about $1 an hour we rented bikes from the friendly staff and rode fifteen minutes or so, away from town, to the Wildlife Habitat. Sean was on a mission to feed a kangaroo and damnit we were gonna see some roo! The combination of hangover, coupled with 90 degree heat, coupled with what I thought was going to be a leisurely bike ride turned strenuous,  had me on the verge of passing out. Luckily there was a cheap sausage sizzle happening at the grocery store next to the park. For those who don’t know what a sausage sizzle is, it’s basically sausages from the grill thrown in a piece of bread, and can often times be organized to raise money for charity or provide cheap eats. Right, Gatorade and sizzle, I’m ready to feed some roo.

Entry to the Wildlife Habitat costs a steep $32 but we deemed it worth it since we booked a cheaper snorkel trip for the following day. Plus, this was Sean and Diana’s one shot to see a live kangaroo and Koala. We arrived just in time for the Koala presentation where we learned heaps, a very commonly and overused Australian slang for “lots of”, information about the cute creatures. Yes, they bite. Yes, they are known for getting Chlamydia, and yes they are native to Australia because they only eat Eucalyptus, which is poisonous too them if they intake too much. So much for “cute”.

Diana meets Koala

After the Koala presentation we stuck around to pet a baby crocodile while learning about the key differences of that and the American alligator. Considering saltwater crocs have been known to be found in the ocean from time to time, I inquired about who would win a croc-shark showdown. May the bigger man win it seems, however, put one of each equally qualified in a tank and then let’s see what goes down.

The layout of the place was well organized, as were the animal presentations, so when we took our bag of roo feed over to the grasslands area to see the little hopping guys in action, boy were we surprised! Firstly, attack of the birds! Holy moley, these birds knew when we opened the gate that people meant food, and with that, these birds meant business. Next thing I knew I was on one side of the park avoiding the masses while Diana and Sean were on the other. I found myself face to face with the largest kangaroo I’ve ever seen, and he just stood there, for a long long time. He must have been 4 foot high. He was definitely alive, but he didn’t move much.  He was either as zoned out as the hippies who frequent Port Douglas, or was just as much trying to avoid the annoying birds as I was.

The largest Kangaroo in the world!

After a chilled out evening and early rise, I was finally ready to go find Nemo. We booked our snorkel and intro dive tour on Calypso, one of the popular tour companies in the area. Rushing to get prime seating of reclining chairs on the top deck, we lubed up on sun screen as we headed an hour and half so away from mainland into the outer reef.  Sean and Diana bravely attempted their first ever scuba dive down to the bottom of the coral floor, while I contemplated way too long to wear a wetsuit before nervously jumping in to snorkel solo until they returned. We stopped at two more reef sites where I saw amazing things like giant clams the size of a small child, coral in every color of the rainbow, and most excitingly, a sea turtle! He just was super chilled out as he swam his way past our group and let us follow him along the reef.  I have to give Calypso props for their professionalism on the water, knowledge base of the reef, and beer selection for the ride home.

Calypso and the GBR

We had another quick wander through town just as the sun was setting and the bats started to come out for the bat party. Now, there are bats here in Brissy, I see them from my balcony, but up in Cairns and Port Dougie there is a serious bat coven happening. Right at dusk and dawn you will begin to hear them screeching, tons of them, and if you look up the sky just swarms with them – all on their way to the bat party I suppose.

There’s a serious bat problem in these parts

To add to the odds of random things we encountered all weekend, freakishly tall roos and bat parties included, with exhaustion from the sun we decided to pick up some pizzas and have a quiet one in the lounge. To our surprise, as the place was crawling with backpackers who apparently didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, we had assumed the kitchen was equipped with an oven. Nope. Its 7 pm on a Sunday night, we’re in Australia, we’re in very rural Australia, our options of things being open are slim to none. Time to improvise.

Sean attempts to cook the pizza in a frying pan over the stove. I slice bread and serve it out of a spaghetti strainer. Diana mixes salad into a soup pot. We have one fork to share. As the pizza cooks we notice the invisible ants that seem to be crawling everywhere in the place. A cockroach shimmies across the counter. We pour salsa in a pot lid to dip our chips in. Don’t worry, this $9 pitcher round is on me. But the big question is should I have it with the delicacy of pepperoni and ants or cheese and mosquito? Mmm, exquisite.

Fine Dining

So after reading this whole long big entry your insides must be screaming, but did you ever see Nemo? I did, I saw him, a few of him actually and of bunch of other amazingly looking fish. I went to bed Sunday evening spraying around my bed with insect repellent and journeyed back to Cairns the next day to hang by myself at the lagoon while Diana and Sean drove down to the Whitsundays.  It was a weekend I expected to just be a quick fling to the GBR but in the end it turned out to be a true a vacation, alas.

I’ve got! I’ve got!


I’m staring into the face if a 250 lb pound man. He’s running toward me at top speed. He wiggles to the left, then the right really fast but I just stand there and stare back. Touch. He has to stop and walk over the ball. I run backwards 10 meters thinking to myself, those shorts are pretty short for a big scary man.

This is my Monday night routine for the next 17 weeks. We’re the Milton Magic, a mixed touch rugby (football) team. I’m in it for the cute jerseys. Maybe the boys too. Also was feeling pressure to obtain that Australian hobby I’ve been promising myself and I’ve just hit my 6 month mark so needed to get cracking. Oh, and frankly, it’s fun!

I’ve got ponytail! I’ve got yellow shorts! I’ve got the big one? The scary looking one? No, you can’t say that, keep it polite when you’re screaming who you’re covering while running around like maniacs for quick 20 minute halves.

We’ve played 3 games to date and haven’t won one yet, but I swear we’re getting better. I haven’t scored a try aka goal and don’t see that in my near future, however I feel proud of learning a new sport and getting out there all team spirit and rah rah. Plus, it was a good excuse to buy new pair of sneakers from the Adidas store. Fellow Americans – I call to you – are you aware that we are apparently the only people in the world who pronounce Adidas as Uh-dee-dis as opposed to Ah-de-dahs? Humph, thanks for making me the laughing stock English teacher!

I would love to explain all the rules but will spare you the ignorance as well as love to give you the fine details of the differences between rugby league, rugby union, Aussie rules, and touch – can you believe there are so many types of rugby here! However, frankly, my eyes only see big men vs. lean men, touches vs. tackles, kicks vs. backwards throws etc. I’d say the hardest part for me is remembering to run backwards, not forwards! Whew.

Since I’m in the wild world of sports I’d also like to comment on my attendance at the Brisbane Bandits vs. Sydney Blue Sox in the ABL (Australian Baseball League) – what a joke. Played in Brissy at the RNA Show Grounds turned baseball diamond, the seats were empty, the food stalls Japanese, and the commentators American. Oh the classic American pastime brought a slight sense of reminisce but only a slight. For this one I was in it for the beer. And maybe the boys again. I’ll give the league credit for trying though. Between each pitch a small clip of the Cha Cha Cha slide “everybody clap your hands” was on repeat. They must have known it’s my classic dance party jam.

And you wonder why I was so bitter at being dubbed Sporty Spice when portraying members of the iconic group in our youth.

The true Brisbane Bandits

Hey! Mr. Tamborine Man


Apparently snakes don’t give warning before they attack! I know, weird right? I’ll make it clear up front that I have not been bitten by a snake however, I have been intrigued after having a discussion on the top of Mount Tamborine, whilst  overlooking the valley, of people who have been bitten on the ankle by a snake, and only realize such after returning home from their walk. I would assume there would have been some fair warning. Apparently because of all the flooding last year the snakes are coming out to play!

Cheers! We're on our way

Mt. Tamborine is a boutique wine region on an eight kilometer ridge of a mountain chain along the Gold Coast. Since my friend Nidya was celebrating a birthday we rented a limo and headed to the southern hinterlands – up the mountain for some schnapps, wine, beer and cheese tasting to celebrate! I relived what felt like prom, posing for photos out front of the limo before our friendly driver Brian ushered us on our way.

Mt. Tamborine Distillery, so cute!

First stop was Mt. Tamborine Distillery. A cute little property tucked back behind black iron gates, the distillery sits amongst gingerbread house style buildings with large black and white spades plastered over the exterior. Vintage gardening tools rest against oak barrels as the fountain trickles calmly in the background. We were greeted instantaneously by the colorful owner Michael and his wife with a rendition of happy birthday played on accordion.

Michael from Mt. Tamborine Distillery wrapping some lemoncello

Michael looks a bit like Father Christmas only in his Hawaiian style shirt it all seemed out of place. The eclectic charm of the distillery was a good choice for this first stop as the variety of schnapps in hand painted colorful glass, from wattle toffee to Turkish delight to musk and lemocello (a favorite amongst the group), had given everyone a head start with their buzz so early in the morning. I’m thinking that the champagne we had up the mountain didn’t help either.

I’d recommend a stop here for anyone traveling in the region – polite, unconventional, and fun. The handmade eastern European knickknacks around the shop were enjoyable to browse through and we all left with a little something – whether it is a bottle of schnapps or hand-woven wool hats. But before we got too comfortable it was time to move on.

The vineyard at Witches Falls

Witches Falls Winery is one of the most favored in the region. In addition to light and fruity syrahs and sauvignon blancs with hints of capsicum (pepper) and oak they also specialize in batches of wild fermented yeast varieties. A big risk for wine makers because the outcome is so unpredictable however the viognier was one that I couldn’t refuse to take back with me.

Gallery Walk

Back in town is what is known as Gallery Walk. It’s the closest thing to “downtown” as it gets up in this mountain community, with a strip of art galleries, fudge shops, local craft merchants and handmade goodies all around. Tucked at the top of the street sits Mount Tamborine Brewery. With the small craft brewery on site, this cute stop off is a great place to get lunch, use the toilet (as many of the wineries don’t allow customers to use the restrooms unless there is a restaurant on site – weird!), and sample some of their delicious brews. $10 gets a sampler of 4 beers that the knowledgeable staff helps mix and match based on your preferences for taste. I chose the darker variety which had an awesome Belgian dubbel, black forest German dark beer, a mild lager and strong wheat. Also here is the cheese factory where they make delicious cheese on the premises and may have judged us a little bit for wanting a taste of nearly everything! I have a garlic goat cheese waiting for me to dip into that I’m having hard time not gobbling down instantaneously.

Flight of beers at Mt. Tamborine Brewery

Cheeeeeese Factory

All the champagne, schnapps, wine and beer started getting to our heads so we traveled farther down Gallery Walk to the Mt. Tamborine Winery to
have lunch on large picnic tables outside. The food was a bit disappointing as was the fact there was no actual vineyard. We nibbled on small baguettes, salads and lamb shanks. I find it interesting that lamb shanks in N. America can be quite expensive and only served at certain restaurants where it is a dish that I’m told many Australians have grown up with and I’ve spotted it on menus quite frequently. So, because we were running a bit tight on time we opted to skip the tasting and find a view so we could enjoy the scrumptious looking rocky road cupcakes made by Sharni.

The top of the world at Mt. Tamborine

Brian drove us to a lookout point on the side of the mountain where hang gliders often leap from. As the wind blew my hat off of my head and we watched it tumble down the mountain Jacqui caught it in time just before it leaped over the same edge the hang gliders often do. I asked her not to risk if for a $9.99 hat but luckily she was fast! So there we sat, quietly and calmly eating our cupcakes while taking in the breathtaking view and winding down from a very long day which unpredictably was going to be a lot longer. This is where we talked about the damn snakes that don’t give warning.  I also asked Brian if this was a popular make out point however I don’t think he heard me because I never got a response.

We turned into the side streets of Paddington, back in Brisbane, bladders nearly busting and contemplated where to take the night. Naps before dinner or shine right through. I think the answer is obvious.

Vietamese at Kim Lan post winery tour

Those with other evening obligations traded spots with some of the guys since they didn’t join on the wine tour and there was no better spot to dine then KimLan in Chinatown. I watched Nidya eat a fried Quail whole – literally, whiling singing the tune “bones bones bones bones bones” as I couldn’t believe it is okay to eat friend bird bones, spine and all. But, I’ll let you judge her for that.  Happy Birthday Nidya!

Happy Birthday Nidya!

It’s okay; I’m not a professional.


One would say a professional blogger may comment on such things about 99% of the population and what it truly means to share the wealth, or perhaps the probability of it snowing in New York unexpectedly this past Halloween, or the odds of having floods again in Queensland this summer. The interesting thing is, I’m not a professional blogger. Yup, a massive surprise to us all.

In no way do I have intentions to undermine any of the above controversial global issues nor contribute an educated opinion without supporting the facts (which I’m aware doesn’t require professional blogging skills) but I’m just here this time around to talk about a few simple things in life: Byron Bay and the hippies, Surfers Paradise and the tanned guerillas, and the quality of the XXXX brewery tour to outshine any of its beer worthiness. I would assume a best practice in blogging may be to assume one subject area and objectively present your opinion. I like to combine all subjects that I experience over a week or two period of time and overwhelm my readership with an explosion of thoughts.

Byron Bay Street Art

About a 2 hour drive south of Brisbane, crossing over the Queensland border into the state of New South Wales, sits Byron Bay. It’s known for its laid back atmosphere, a carefree paradise where hippies sit around bonfires in the evening strumming their guitars amongst the plethora of backpackers that flock to this coastal town. There are strips of local beach shops mixed amongst high street retailers, stalls selling fish tacos and wheatgrass shakes mixed in between a thriving nightlife.

Jacqui rocking back from the beach

A weekend getaway found me approaching this beach town passing the surf shops and tanned and toned surfers walking the highway with board in tow giving me a sense of the Australia that foreigner’s picture in their heads. The relaxed, artsy hostels packed with locals and travelers alike make this a prime stop off for most backpackers traveling along the east coast. We were just here however to celebrate a birthday.

Cheeky Monkeys

After late night shenanigans at notorious, trashy and divey Cheeky Monkey’s we spent the following morning letting the rays soak up our hangovers before heading to the Cape Byron Lighthouse that marks the most easterly point in Australia. Also noted that whilst tanning on the beach the lifeguards simply put up a sign near the rocks that hug the walking path (aka sidewalk), bathrooms, and road with “Snake in the grass. Please leave alone.” Let’s hope that was a friendly, cuddling sort of snake, not one of the world’s deadliest that live in these parts.

Snakes in the grass!

Most easternly point of Australia

So that brings me to the following weekend, pre-Halloween weekend. A bit depressing that this would have marked the 6th year of Emily and Lisa’s Halloween extravaganza where we rent a bar in Manhattan, give away $$$ worth of prizes and provide our friends with a place to get down and scary. Alas, I hopped on a train, down the coast again, for my first trip to Surfer’s Paradise.
Surfer’s is a place that many a traveler to Australia puts on their agenda. But reality check! Surfer’s is a touristy, high-rise filled Gold Coast destination, complete with tanned guerilla men, meter maid fairies in Leia-like bikinis and clubs pumping with mega techno beats. Think Jersey Shore people. And not the Jersey Shore I grew up with as my home away from home.

Oh, Surfer's Paradise

Halloween of oh-eleven came about a bit like this…I was way “over” my Oktoberfest costume that showed up the Monday after the event, that I refused to wear it and instead am hoping to score some bucks on eBay and therefore roamed the streets of Brisbane searching for a fun, scary, and cute Halloween costume. Guess what though? There are no Halloween costumes in ALL of Brisbane! Target, Kmart, Big W, chemist shops, malls…NOTHING! My best bet would be hiring (aka renting) a costume for about $70 bucks a pop at a costume store which was not an option so I got some office supplies, made some leopard (note Leopard, not cat) ears and ended up with some girlie affair of a costume. *By stating “I”made what I meant is asked some creative colleague types to make on my behalf.

I'm a freaking Leopard okay, not a CAT!

We went Surf Club hopping – from Broad Beach (less trashy, more classy) North to Surfers stopping off at the Surf Clubs for some brews. Surf Clubs perhaps could be comparable to US golf club houses, but not quite the class – you pay a fee to access food, bar and premium real estate. Very good fun.

Surf Club Hopping

And so I have to give a proper shout out to one of my best besties Emily who prior to me arriving in Brissy gave me the sweet present of a gift voucher to the XXXX brewery. XXXX is a Queensland icon. A crisp, unflavorful beer drunk by the Queenslandish Queenslanders in a way that Nascar drivers drink Coors Lite. Get it, right? But from beer appreciator to beer appreciator I couldn’t have asked for a more inspiring gift.

It took months to recruit some local friends to join me on this beer journey; many of them grew up in Brisbane and have worked for years at Wiley, where the lights of the brewery shine up from the view from our office cubicles, however mission accomplished. The $38 dollars to fork over was hard to justify but my dear mates Nidya and Anna were in and on we marched up the hill to the brewery on a warm Spring Wednesday evening.

Impressive! I recommend to any friend or family member who will pay $2000 to fly over to hang with me! Funny, old school adverts showcasing authentic Aussie males sipping their XXXX in the bush being men of men with strong backwoods accents; bring in a hopping kangaroo and they couldn’t have been more picturesque Australian. With corny tour operator leading the pack, this journey took us through the history of this beer to the bottling process where we watched factory workers attempting to stop bottles from slamming into each other before breaking on the factory floor. Hilarious for us spectators.

I learned things such as the Aussie term “sculling” aka chugging, is derived from the Vikings who would decapitate their enemy then drink beer out of their skull, as well as the urban myth of authentic Aussie spread Vegemite being derived from leftover beer yeast. When on the factory floor I dared Anna to ask about how many workers have had their arm sliced off in the machinery; I don’t believe our guide when she said no one recently.

At the end of the tour we got 4 beers – pronounced “be-ya’s” which weren’t small, in addition to a bbq feast. We envisioned some sausages and light salad but what we got were full course meals of sausage, ribs, salad, cous cous, potato salad, and a roll. Big hit! Plus, becoming bff’s with tour guides Jessica and Paul, who let us pour our own beers behind the bar, and took photos with us. We walked away after taking off our bright orange safety vests and protection goggles with a souvenir of a XXXX lanyard and memories to last a lifetime. They gave us no choice as they were professional talkers. Or whatever.

Behind the bar at XXXX

They also brew things like the delicous James Squire imprint which tainted me with their dark, delicious Porter. Mmmm yummy stouts!

My final thoughts of random include a few things:
Spaghetti. I grew up calling spaghetti, spaghetti. Not spaghetti and meatballs, regardless if that’s what it contained, just spaghetti. In the UK, as well as here in Australia, you would specify more so as spaghetti Bolognese. Or as the Aussies do, just call it Spag Bole.

Secondly, summer storms. It’s still not summer, but already the storms are coming. The hard, fast rain pounding on the pavement, the lightening lighting up the sky, my face under the pillow, it’s all a taste of what’s to come. I’m scared.

And lastly, toilets. Many restaurants don’t have their own restroom. It’s typically some sort of public toilet shared by multiple restaurants down some weird alleyway or whatever. I don’t like it. But that’s how it is, public toilets even for private businesses. Fine.