The Outback

What an amazing 5 days. I survived the bush swags! More pictures in a few weeks. Oh, and the hang gliding video has sound now.

Hang Gliding

If you enjoy watching people do stupid things (and who doesn't), here's a video of my attempt at hang gliding in Queenstown, New Zealand. Before Chris and I decided to try this, I would have considered myself a coordinated, calm human being that can follow simple directions. This does not appear to be the case. I can't decide if I'm elated or embarrassed that this was all caught on tape, so until then, here are a few things to ponder:

1. I immediately forgot what to do with my feet. Thanks for taking charge, Mr. Instructor Man.

2. Grabbing the steering bar is an apparent no-no, so of course, it's the first thing I go for.

3. We landed in a field full of sheep poop. Lots and lots of sheep poop.

Kiwis in the Outback

Wow. We only have a month left before our big adventure ends. I can't believe it. In this time my brother-in-law had gotten married, two of my best friends have had babies and my brother is well on his way to graduating college, yet it's gone by so quickly and Chris and I can't believe our time here is coming to an end.

We are both quite sad about leaving - I have grown to love Sydney, and Australia in general. I don't even notice all of the peculiarities and differences any more. Chris and I each have our daily routines, and we have established a nice rhythm of living. We know that we will always look back fondly upon our time here. Anyway, the point of this post is to let you know about our upcoming travel plans before we come home - I don't know if I'll have time to update this one more time so here's a pre-trip rundown...

We leave for New Zealand today for two weeks and will be living in a campervan(!) while we tour around the South Island. New Zealand in winter is supposed to be breathtaking, so we are going to do as much as possible while we're down there. For those who are interested, you can look at a map and see exactly where we're going - NZ isn't very big, and according to our friend Ryan, has "about three roads" so you should be able to plot our route quite easily. Our rough itinerary is Christchurch > Akaroa > Arthur's Pass to Punakaiki and Okarito > down the West Coast > Helihike Franz Josef or Fox Glacier > Haast Pass down to Wanaka > Te Anau > Milford or Doubtful Sound > Queenstown. We're going to ski the Remarkables for 4 days before coming back to Sydney. Afterwards, we are flying to Alice Springs for a 5-day outback safari. I am SO excited about this. We are going to sleep in authentic bush swags under the stars (I hope the creepy crawlies don't want to get intimate), see Uluru at sunset, hike Kings Canyon, take guided Aboriginal bush walks, and generally experience the vast, amazing outback desert. I just might try a witchety grub if I'm feeling brave. We then fly to Fiji for 7 days, where we're staying on an itsy-bitsy,
teensy weensie island called Navini. It only takes 20 minutes to walk around the entire thing! We'll be very isolated - no resort-y activities, just a couple of palm trees, some great snorkeling, and the ocean. Sounds like heaven.

Needless to say, we are cramming as much as we can into the end of our adventure. Sandflies, bush tucker, campervans, bring it on. Actually, I hope we can handle the campervan. I'm a little nervous. It's big. We have a shower and toilet in the thing. It could get interesting. All of our Chicago friends - we will see you soon for some end-of-summer fun! Hope you all have enjoyed the (sporadically updated) adventure as much as we have.

Love, Anne and Chris

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

Hi. Chris here. In case you faithful readers didn't know, it's been Anne writing all this time. Well, now that my three-month sabbatical has started I figured I'd sit down and read this blog, maybe even write my own entry because I've got a couple of things to report. To start with, I got a speeding ticket in the mail. My first ticket ever. In Tasmania. You know how some people surmise about "a good way to go" and whatnot? Well, if I were to say, I want my first speeding ticket to happen like here's how it would go. I know Anne already wrote about this, but I'll recount. We're in Tasmania on our way to Freycinet in our rented Toyota Camry. Anne's in front, Gerhard in back. We're driving along, all is well. All of the sudden, I realize ... CRAP! I forgot my license. No biggie, says Gerhard, we won't get pulled over. He also offers to drive, but the problem is, he's not on the rental agreement and Anne can't drive because she's never driven on the left side of the road before (Anne here - this will change once we're in New Zealand. I will conquer my fears!) Anyway, I better carry on. At about this time, we'd been following a big, slow truck for awhile and a rock kicked up and smacked the windshield right as another big truck passed in the oncoming lane. I had no idea who kicked the rock up but I knew I wanted to get away from all trucks. So what did I do? What any responsible person would do. I kept my distance from the truck in front of us, waited for the next "overtaking zone" to arrive and went into the passing lane. Just as I was passing the truck, Gerhard says "slow down, that was a police we just passed." So within a 10-minute span, I realized I forgot my license, a rock chipped the windshield of the rental car, and I passed a cop going 134 KPH in a 100 KPH zone.

As for the other thing to report, I pooped next to Stevie Wonder in O'Hare Airport on our way home to Kansas City for Jeff's wedding. Long story short, I was in that one handicap stall with a broken door latch in terminal 1 near gate B11, and his entourage knocked hard and inadvertently busted in on me. I know I know, what was I doing in the handicapped stall, especially after seeing that one episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where Larry David used the handicapped stall and when he came out, a guy in a wheelchair was waiting and yelled at him? Well, stall 1's door was shut, someone had majorly miscalculated in stall 2 (mookie stinks left there curling over the lip), stall 3's door was shut, so who wouldn't choose the spacious one with the sink! Anyway, the latch failed when they knocked. I was mortified ... and star struck. So Stevie had to use the stall next to me, while I got to hear his entourage speculate and laugh about how on earth the scenario in stall 2 could've played out. Take that, Larry David.

Tasmania!

Okay, so we made it to Tasmania and YES the devil really does exist! This is a long post, but there's so much to write about! A few weeks ago we went to the Sydney Writer's Festival (rather serendipitously) to see Chris's friend Thomas Kohnstamm, who was in Sydney promoting his book Do Travel Writers Go To Hell?. He introduced us to another author, Grace, and her lovely husband Gerhard. The five of us had a great evening together, and since Grace and Gerhard are fabulous people, they invited us to spend the weekend with them in Tasmania. We arrive in "Tassie" on Thursday afternoon and are immediately treated to warm risotto for lunch, followed by an inpromptu honey tasting. We discuss the intricacies and subtle flavors of the individual honeys as each spoonful is offered. It's like sipping fine wine. I never knew you could be a honey connoisseur! Grace's book, The Honey Spinner, follows her journey around the world in search of the truth behind the global honey market (Naturally, she eats a lot of honey). After lunch we get a top-notch tour around Hobart, Australia's second-oldest city. It's a sleepy and enchanting little town. It's full of Georgian architecture, winding streetscapes, quiet parks, and has a beautiful waterfront similar to Sydney. The pace is slooooow. People know one another and Gerhard waves 'hello' to some familiar faces. We walk through Battery Point down into Salamaca Place, where he shows us some of his commissioned art installations. We end up at T42 where we meet Grace for a drink. For dinner that evening, Gerhard prepares hand-rolled sushi and a sesame-encrusted salmon salad. Chris and I are both seriously impressed.
The next morning we awaken to some quick-paced scampering, which is Gerhard's way of starting the day. It makes sense, since it feels like it's freezing. A small glass of ginger/celery/apple juice is given to us and I announce that I'll be getting a proper juicer as soon as we get back home. Grace suggests we enjoy our coffee up on their deck. We sit on blankets admiring Mt. Wellington above us and quiet town below. Today we're driving to Freycinet National Park, one of the 'must see' destinations in Tasmania. After about 45-minutes of lazing around, Gerhard announces that we all must get cracking if we are to make the 3-hour drive up the coast, and still make it back home before dark. He's excited to "have a surf" and with one hard shove of his board into our rental car, we're off. It's quite a long drive, but beautiful. Windy roads, lined with sheep and very little traffic. The sheep don't even look real, they are so still! I joke that they are stage sheep, placed there for our benefit. When we stop at Banjo's and Chris realizes that he has left behind his wallet, as well as his license. Not the best situation, since we're foreigners, driving a rental car on the wrong side of the road through the windy hills of Tasmania, but no matter. We purchase our sandwiches to enjoy for lunch and get back on the road. About 15 minutes later a logger truck passes us and kicks up a rock, which cracks our windshield. Awesome. We also zoom past a cop car while going at least 20 miles over the speed limit while trying to pass a slower vehicle (damn foreigners). After about 5 minutes of frantic rear view mirror glancing, we all decide that the cop is not following us and at worst, we'll get a Tasmanian ticket in the mail. What a souveneir! There are many picturesque spots along the A3, and the windswept vegetation reminds me a bit of Patagonia, but still there is something very unique about the landscape. At around 2:00 we arrive at Friendly Beaches, and once Gerhard sees the swells, he is like a kid in a candy store, and leaps out of the car, grabbing his gear and bounds down to the water. Keep in mind it is winter down here. That water is COLD, but Gerhard is true salt of the earth. He shoves his wallet and cell phone at us and points the way to Freycinet, telling us he'll be waiting here when we return. As we drive off we agree that if anything happens to Gerhard, we're definitely prime suspects. Lone surfer goes missing. American couple pulled over who just happens to have his cell phone and wallet but not their own. Very suspicious. Another 20-minute drive and we are at Freycinet. It's now 2:45 and we realize that we have barely enough time to make it to Wineglass Bay and back before it starts getting dark, plus we have Gerhard to worry about. What to do - pay the $24 entry fee and slog it up in record time, or just enjoy a scenic drive around the park? We decide to do it, and park the car among several tame wallabies before tramping up. It's not a long hike, and once up top I decide the I MUST hike down to the beach, which is beautiful.
It's not too late and we have plenty of time. We start our beach descent but after 20 minutes, I look down to realize that the beach is still just as far away as when we first started. Realizing we still have an uphill climb back, we decide that there's no way we'll make it back to Gerhard in time, so we abandon the beach idea and turn around. I'm pretty sure we set a record for the least amount of time spent in Freycinet National Park, but what we did experience was definitely worth the trip! When we reach Gerhard, he's been in the water almost 3.5 hours and is still going strong, but he's drifted quite a bit further south and is now alarmingly close to some large rocks. Thankfully, he catches one last wave and calls it a day. We all pile back into our car which is now filled with sand and crumbs from Gerhard's meat pie earlier. I reprimand him for his mess, but it's all in fun and we laugh as we get back on the road. It's almost dark now and things are getting a bit dodgy. Logger trucks pass us at close range and the windy cliff roads are narrow, to say the least. About half-way home, we are met with a rocky protrusion on our left and a wayward logger truck on our right. Chris senses the predicament and instinctively decides that the rock is the lesser of the two evils. It's not fun, and we all expect to pop a tire, but thankfully, it all passes in a blur and no harm is done. Mom, if you're reading this, don't worry, we all had our seat belts on and Chris is a great driver. :) After the rock/truck incident, Chris just wants to get us the hell home, so none of us say much the rest of the journey. Once back in town, we stop of at Woolworth's for some lamb shanks, and finally arrive home and are greeted by Grace, beautiful music, and a warm, toasty fire. We all enjoy a glass of wine as Gerhard prepares dinner. Afterwards, we play a few rounds of Boggle, which I've decided feels like Scrabble for slightly denser, less patient people. I'll be buying it soon. On Saturday we awake to the smells of breakfast and I take a "rain shower" and enjoy another crazy juice concoction. Today, we are driving to Port Arthur, about an hour south-east of Hobart. It's a former convict settlement on the Tasman Peninsula and is one of Australia's most significant heritage areas and officially Tasmania's top tourist attraction. We all pile into our car, and turn on John Cleese, our GPS navigator, which Grace and Gerhard get a huge kick out of. He loves to say things like "Bear right, beaver left." Very funny. When we arrive, we join a group tour around the remnants of the settlement. It's a fascinating place with a sad, dark history. It's also very beautiful, and I joke that I would have enjoyed being incarcerated here. After a couple of hours we are all frozen and it's getting dark, so we decide to call it a day. We stop off to do some star gazing and I spot the Southern Cross right away. The stars are amazing since there is no light pollution. A little further down the road, we pull off again so that I can take my picture next to a Tasmanian Devil road crossing sign. Proof that they really do exist! Once back in Hobart, we head straight for Salamanca, where we enjoy dinner at one of Grace and Gerhard's favorite restaurants, Smelt. We decide to stop off at Woolies again for some ice cream, but along the way, Chris gets pulled over by police for a random breathalizer. Apparently, there is a pretty large police presence in this part of Hobart, and this is par for the course. At least he has his license (although the don't even ask for it)! Once back at home we enjoy our ice cream, and decide that Sunday we will go to Bruny Island, a beautiful part of Tasmania that most tourists don't make it down to see. Gerhard announces that we must rise before dawn in order to catch the early ferry across. He needs time to catch some abalone to cook for lunch and Grace wants to take us on a hike up to Fluted Cape. The next morning we groan as we open our eyes. It is still dark and it's absolutely freezing! Gerhard raps on our door and says it's almost time to leave. Ugh, can't we just sleep in and enjoy the deck again? Why do we have to go to Bruny Island anyway? We all pile into their Mercedes 240D, affectionately named "Fritz" and then grab some coffee and pastries before heading down to Kettering to catch the ferry across to Bruny. The ferry launches just as the sun starts to rise, and we all climb to the top deck to see the beautiful view. The coffee has kicked in and I convince myself that I must rise this early every morning. I will turn over a new leaf (Chris knows me well enought to roll his eyes at this statement). Inhaling deeply, I smile as I think about all those other lazy tourists who are missing amazing experience. Once on the island, we drive to The Neck, a long, narrow isthmus and climb the wooden steps up to see the views of the surrounding water. Afterward, we head to Adventure Bay Beach so that Gerhard can catch his abalone. You have to understand. The water is like 8 degrees, but he can't WAIT to get in and spear these things for us to have for lunch. Abalones are huge mussels, and are a real delicacy in certain parts of the world, especially in Asia. They're difficult to catch and Gerhard has to wrestle with them for awhile before


surfacing and handing five over to me to 'keep an eye on'. The little buggers will suck onto anything, and I spend the next 10 minutes prodding them with my shoe. Ick. Afterwards, we all hike up to Fluted Cape. It's turning out to be a beautiful day. Once up top we take some pictures and then head back down along the coastline. Our final stop is the Bruny Island Cheese Company, where we get a tasting of several lovely cheeses. It's run by a man named Nick, who after traveling the world working for specialty cheese makers, decided to settle here and make some for himself. We purchase two wedges and have an impromptu picnic while waiting for the afternoon ferry to take us back across. It's been a very full day, but we end up having enough time once back home to shower up and enjoy the abalone, which Gerhard prepares with garlic and fish sauce. It's so yum! We reluctantly say goodbye to our dear friends and are sad to have to be leaving Tasmania. A truly wonderful weekend!

Zoo zombies

It's been awhile since I've posted anything, but we've been whipping around the States and just got back last week after a whirlwind trip that included stops to Chicago, Iowa, Arkensas and finally Kansas City, for Jeff and Sarah's beautiful wedding. Phew! Naturally, we arrive completely jet-lagged and decide it makes perfect sense to go to the zoo. Who wouldn't? Let's see.
I think we rode a gondola, saw some kangaroos and watched a bird show. Oh, and maybe there was a koala. Yeah, there was definitely a koala. And a platypus, I think. Didn't I write a report on that in 4th grade? Did it have a duckbill? I can't remember. By 8:30 that evening we agreed that we gave mr. jet lag a serious ass whooping. We should go back again when we're actually awake. I think there was a seal show? Maybe there's a picture...

Burpees and bear crawls

Nothing very exciting to report, so I thought I'd fill you in on our new morning fitness routine. We've been doing this three times a week since the end of February. I swear, every time the alarm goes off, there is about 45 seconds of wingeing (a great Aussie term), occasionally a bit of swearing, creative excuses for not getting out of bed, etc. but eventually we unfurl, and sleepwalk up to Observatory Hill for our 30-minute torture session with Daniel, our "conditioning coach". It's a love/hate relationship.

This all came about because over the past few months, we've noticed a peculiar outdoor group fitness phenomenon - people charging at each other with boxing gloves, throwing around medicine balls, etc. It's everywhere. We were curious and agreed it might be good to try something other than running - I believe this is called "cross training".

Yeah. Cross training. This term scares me. Chris pointed out a group of decidedly fit people running, jumping and rolling around on the grass on top of Observatory Hill, so we tentatively approach to see what is going on. Fast forward four days and we are chin down in the muddy grass, doing body blasts, spiderman crawls, sprinter shuffles, star jumps, hover-to-pushups, and another 10 things that I can't remember the names of because they were so painful I blocked them out. Oh, wait. There were bear crawls and burpees too. Who came up with the term burpee?

The stuff is hard. The next day neither of us can get out of bed. But it gets us going in the morning, and our group is small so we've gotten to know some interesting personalities. It's amazing the things you say to complete strangers when you're in pain.

Last Monday we arrive at 7:05 and about 15 minutes in, it starts raining. I don't mean a light, lovely mist to cool your face, this is a deluge. So the group starts wingeing (I so LOVE it!) and moping around. Tamsen isn't happy. Emily certainly isn't happy, but Daniel isn't about to give in. It is pouring and I'm drenched and muddy, but I have to admit, I did feel a little bit like Rambo doing push-ups in the mud. The last session of our 8-week "commitment" was Friday, but now I'm worried. I mean, we can't just STOP, right? What's gonna happen? I get up the next morning instantly sad and flabby?

Our next session begins on Monday.

Tim Tam Slam!

Ahhh, the Tim Tam. Yummy chocolate filling surrounded by a crispy chocolate cookie, coated in, um, more chocolate. You can only get these in Australia, and we have been eating them ever since Chris noticed that his coworkers devour them. He knew I would love them, especially since there is a fun trick you can do if you have the right technique. It's called a Tim Tam Slam. It also goes by the name Tim Tam Explosion and Tim Tam Bomb. You get the idea. There are rumors that it's been attempted in the United States using Oreo cookies, but without success.

Because of the Tim Tam's unique properties, you can, with the right approach, use it as a straw to sip your coffee. Pure heaven. Or so I'm told. I've never actually had a successful Tim Tam Slam. Here are the step-by-step instructions, plus a video tutorial. This dude makes it look easy, but don't be fooled. Many a Tim Tam has been wasted while attempting the Slam.

1. Chill Tim Tam. Most Aussies suggest keeping the box in your fridge for quick access during parties and such.

2. Make yourself a cup of hot coffee or tea.

3. Take a small bite from the both ends of the Tim Tam. Warning: do not overbite. It's obviously very easy to do, and I blame all of my failed attempts on overly-enthusiastic biting.

4. Place the Tim Tam in your mouth and secure with your teeth, not lips, which will cause it to melt prematurely.

5. Plunge the Tim Tam about half way down into the coffee and suck like crazy.

There are two outcomes. Sadly, I have only achieved the first.

Outcome A: As you desperately suck on the Tim Tam, it falls apart and leaves you with chocolate-smeared fingers and sad, lumpy coffee.

Outcome B: The gooey center of the Tim Tam is successfully siphoned out of the hard cookie shell into your waiting mouth, allowing you to exhale, take a deep breath, and experience the amazing taste trifecta!

Is this my 15 minutes?

I covet my TimeOut Sydney. So much so, that come Wednesday morning nothing can stop me from rushing out the door and snatching up the latest edition. Today, I flip through the pages to see that a photo I sent in a few weeks ago has won the City snaps competition! My prize is a free year's subscription. Yippee! I've thought about it, and I can't decide which is more ironic - submitting a picture that made absolutely no sense to me, or having my 15 minutes in the spotlight as "Anne Kent".

Anyway, You decide. I guess I'm just happy that I caught this shot while on the train back from Mardi Gras a couple of weeks ago. Someone had placed red tape over part of the billboard as some sort of social commentary. I Googled a bit, and discovered that Sydney's rail system is widely lambasted as the world's worst. Ouch. In an attempt to improve the over-burdened system, the city is spending $1.5 billion to create more rail lines (clearways) that will attempt to keep things running when individual lines break down. Most Sydneysiders think this is just another band aid and the whole thing needs to be overhauled. Today's transportation trivia brought to you by Anne Kent.

Easter in Melbourne

I love this picture, because it completely captures the beauty and vibe of Melbourne, but I can't take credit. It was snapped by this guy. We've been seriously analyzing how we should spend our Easter weekend. A four-day weekend at home sounds like heaven (watching Lost reruns, eating Tim Tams, staying in bed way past any respectable hour, you get the picture.) However. We have a finite amount of time in this country, so onward! We decide to fly down to Melbourne, the gastronomical and, some say, cultural capital of Australia. People refer to it as the 'Victorian City'. There is a fierce rivalry between Melbourne and Sydney, each hungering for the crown of "Autralia's Best City". I guess it's sort of like pitting the art and theatre crowd in high school against the cheerleading squad and homecoming court. Architecturally, it's very European. Tons of intricate ironwork and beautiful, manicured gardens. Trams, that you can hop on and off for free, crisscross through the city center. I have a crush on Melbourne. It's so colorful, and the pace is really relaxed, plus it just oozes culture. The laneways are filled with really charming bars and restaurants, live music, and art galleries. A lot more dyed hair and tattoos. Less Manolos. Anyway, we touch down on Friday morning, bleary-eyed after almost missing our flight. Here is the play-by-play:

6:56 a.m. - wake up and frantically realize our flight leaves in 54 minutes.
7:01 - hustle out the door.
7:02 to 7:07 - search for a cab.
7:13 - arrive at the train station.
7:13 to 7:18 - muck around trying to buy tickets.
7:29 - jump on the train.
7:42 - arrive at the airport.
7:48 - get stopped at security because of nail clippers.
7:56 - collapse at the gate where the pilot turns to us and says, "No worries, mate. I'm flying the plane and we're not going anywhere yet."

What a start to the weekend. After a much-needed snooze, we are starving, and head out in search of lunch, wandering through the Fitzroy Gardens, and down along Spring Street into Chinatown. We immediately discover our poor timing, as everything is closed on Good Friday. Strangely, people jam the restaurants and shops on Easter Sunday like it's the day after Thanksgiving. We do manage to find an open restaurant, and I scarf down some of the best pizza I've ever had, so points scored there. Jeff and Melissa invite us over on Friday evening for some wine and cheese before heading to a charming French bistro along the Yarra river. Such a fun evening! Saturday begins with a tour Rod Laver Arena, home to the Australian Open, and then a stroll around Queen Victoria Market. We hop on the tram that lumbers up Swanston Street and wander around the hundreds of interesting stalls. Every type of vendor is here: fruit, vegetable, meat, seafood, wine, cheese, chocolate, you name it, and the entire market is gorgeous. I would come here every day if I lived in Melbourne! Melissa tells me that she and Jeff love to come to the "Queen Vic" on Wednesday nights in summer, when there is live music, and tastings of everything. Ahhh, sounds perfect. We walk down Victoria Street and take a tour of the Old Melbourne Gaol (Jail), which is disturbing and totally fascinating. The inmate artwork on the cell walls is particularly eerie. The evening ends with last minute tickets to the Melbourne Comedy Festival, and we land on Mark Watson. Don't ask me to judge how to tell good comedy, but this guy is seriously funny! On Sunday, we stroll through the Botanic Gardens, which are very dry because of the drought. It is actually raining a bit, so we enjoy a leisurely lunch at Southgate and people-watch for a couple of hours. A young stunt biker is attempting a new trick where he rides up the railing along the river, pops himself up on his back tire, bounces around to get his balance, and then jumps over to the far railing, still resting on only his back tire. He must try at least 20 times before he finally sticks it, and everyone around breaks out into applause. Talk about determination! In the evening, we join Ange, a co-worker of Chris's, and her boyfriend at the Black Pearl. It's a cozy, very charming pub in Fitzroy, a hip, artsy neighborhood. We move on to an Afghan restaurant for dinner and end the evening at Polly, a over-the-top lounge with gilt mirrors, fountains, and even some faux Roman statuary sprinkled about! Love it. Heading into Monday, on the recommendation of Ange, we explore St. Kilda, as well as Acland Street, famous for it's cake shops. The afternoon is spent walking along Bay Beach, and finally we end up back at our hotel for, what else, movie night. On the agenda is No Country for Old Men. Wow. Javier Bardem = Hannibal Lechter with mega scary hair. We have a very early wake-up call, bedtime is the senior-citizen hour of 9:00 p.m.

Not a stage kangaroo!!

I know she looks fake, but this ole gal is real! We're in the Hunter Valley this weekend, a beautiful 2.5 hours drive north of Sydney. It's the premium wine region of New South Wales, and is best known for it's Semillon, considered a national treasure among wine enthusiasts. Base camp is charming, a French farmhouse-inspired bed and breakfast with the delightful name of Thistle Hill (24-year old miss kanga reigns over these grounds and is not afraid to let you know who's boss). We arrive on Friday afternoon after a fairly stressless (minus the bridge crossing) drive to 28-acres of beauty. The vineyard and winery belong to Carol and Peter, and they are both oozing with hospitality and pure joie de vivre. They so truly love their life. Carol recommends we try Bistro Molines for dinner this evening, and winks that we won't be disappointed; this is the new restaurant from award-winning Robert Molines and his wife Sally. It's simple, unpretentious, bistro food, but also pure perfection. Well, of course, we book a table, and, wow, this is a meal to remember! The restaurant is decorated with lovable French antique furnishings and a mish-mash of decorative pieces. So warm and inviting. And just so you know, I very rarely remember the particulars of my meals, unless they are absolutely fantastic. Well, this is one for the record books! I will attempt to illustrate. We start with a pot of steaming mussels bathed in in an unbelievably rich shallot butter, so good I want to drink it. Then a Tahitian white fish salad with mango and avocado dressed in a pungent curry sauce - Oh my god, I've never tasted anything like this. Chris tries the lamb with plum sauce and it comes with a little plate of the thickest-cut french fries I've ever seen, cooked to perfection and then sprinkled with pink Himalayan salt flakes (don't worry, I asked about the salt - I'm not Martha Stewart). It is, simply, a perfect meal. The next morning we head out for a 5-winery laugh-a-thon with James' Wine Tours, along with 10 Australians. Such a great time! It's so interesting getting to know true-blue Aussies, hearing their views on politics, culture, the world economy, etc. And with the wine flowing, the opinions really come out! To cap off the day, we pull up to the Smelly Cheese Shop, a jolly Hunter establishment. I load up on some decadent treats to eat this evening and James pours us out at Thistle Hill at around 5:00. It's a perfect time to stroll around the grounds and almost run into a gigantic spider web. What else is new. Afterwards Chris and I relax in our room and sample some of our newly-acquired cheese and sausage, feeling very European. On Sunday, it's back to Sydney, but we hit a traffic jam that stalls our arrival into the city until just before our rental car agency closes. Stressful hour, plus another bridge crossing, but in the end, we pull in at 5:59 p.m. with ONE minute to spare without being charged an extra day. Sigh. Time to get ready for Monday.

Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras

For those of you who don't know, Sydney has one of the largest gay and lesbian communities in the world, and Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras parade is the biggest party of the year. This time around it is particularly raucous because it's the 30th anniversary, and we aren't going to miss it! At around 6:00 we head down to Hyde Park and make our way up Oxford Street toward Taylor Square. Finding the perfect vantage point (slightly downward sloping streetscape and less than two-person deep audience) we park ourselves and wait for the parade to start. It opens with the traditional 'Dykes on Bikes' spectacle as hundreds of motorcycles roar up and down Oxford Street, getting things, um, warmed up. Then come the floats, which include 'Divas through the Decades', and 'Oz Fag Hags', among other very colorful and flamboyant scenes! We are right in the thick of the action, but as the night progresses, the crowd swells and I get a bit nervous that we'll lose our peep hole. Ah, but with every problem comes a solution. Especially when money is involved. After paying an obscene $20 for two flimsy plastic stools that will be chucked in the trash post-parade, we are at least a head-and-a-half above the other losers who didn't shell out. Other highlights include: a drunk girl taking a world-class face plant behind us, only to pop up and explain "but I'm not drunk, and that's the annoying thing!", and a pair of buttless jeans that look very handmade. Well done! Refreshing and practical, all for the price of a pair of scissors.

Blue Mountains

This weekend we head to the Blue Mountains! The trip has come together at the eleventh hour (par usual). We are staying in a little cabin in the middle of 29-acres of wilderness, overlooking the eucalyptus treetops, and as a bonus, the property contains a fantastic cave that you can camp in. It all sounds very rustic and 'out there' to me. But first, we must get out of Sydney. Which brings up the issue of transportation. Which leads to the fact that neither Chris nor I have ever driven on the left-hand side of the road (queue the scene of Chevy Chase madly circling around Big Ben). But really, how hard can it be? Well, sorta hard. I knock the windshield wipers at least 30 times reaching for the turn signal. And, while I swear from the right-hand driver's seat that I am in the dead center of the lane, I'm actually kissing the curb on the left. It's a very strange feeling. Chris decides to be the brave one and gets behind the wheel for the 2-hour drive into the mountains. There is one tense moment on the M2, a toll road, where we encounter flashing signs informing us that without an 'E-Pass' there is no way to pay our fare. I'm frantic, but can see there is a number to dial for help. After 30-seconds of sheer panic, I'm informed that we can pay for our 2-day visitor's pass over the phone. Phew! Disaster averted. We reach the little town of North Richmond, and decide to stop off at the local grocery store to load up on supplies, since we'll be cooking all of our own meals. We arrive around 3:30 and are not disappointed by the surroundings. The views are amazing! Our cabin is situated at the top of a ridge that drops off on three sides, so that we are at eye level with the hundreds of eucalyptus trees. Aside from an absolutely GIGANTIC spider on the side deck, all is perfect! On Saturday, we decide to see some of the more picturesque parts of the area and drive up to Mt. Wilson and then head out to do some bushwalking. Unfortunately, the trail is closed because of fire damage so we hoof it up another trail that leads us out to the edge of some massive cliffs. What no one tells us is that there are spiders. Big spiders. Chris carries a long stick in front of him to break up the cobwebs, since it doesn't appear that many people have been walking along this particular trail. Before this experience, I would have told you that as I've gotten older, I've really gotten a handle on my fear of insects and other unsavory little creatures. This goes out the window when I see not one, but two alarmingly large spiders building webs on either side of the trail, only about 24 inches from my frightened body. On top of that, there are flies, another insect that featured prominently in a number of my childhood 'incidents'. There are stories, ask my parents. Needless to say, I work myself into such a state that I am soon flailing my arms at any sign of movement and swatting at imaginary things. I look deranged. By the time we reach the top, I am on the verge of a panic attack, but the view is amazing, and so we take it in for 2 minutes and 17 seconds before high-tailing it back down. In the evening, we head over to meet the owner, Mark, who leads us down to the beautiful, hidden cave. We are enthralled! It's a beautiful space and is outfitted with everything you need to live for a few days, even a sink with running water! There is a sort of swing/hammock contraption, several lounge chairs, a barbeque, cabinets full of plates and cutlery, and little nooks in the cave wall to unroll a sleeping bag. It's so much fun! Definitely the highlight of the weekend. On Sunday, we lounge around most of the morning and then, reluctantly, drive back into the city. We're just in time to see the Queen Elizabeth 2 and the Queen Victoria which are both docked in the harbour, and find out that it's a very special occasion. Both boats left New York on January 13th - Queen Victoria on her maiden sail and QE2 on her farewell voyage. It's the first time two Cunard Queens have been seen together in Sydney since the second world war when the original Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth visited the city as troop carriers. They blast their horns as each other as they pass by one another and it's rumored that you can hear the sound from 10 miles away!

Video love

Alright. I know I have not been as forthcoming with photos as some of you would like. Squinting at things from behind a smudged window the size of a pea isn't usually as enjoyable as soaking up the moment. To make up for my lack of camera enthusiasm Chris has shot some videos during our stay so far. Here's a little bit of Australia Day (yes, I know that was a whole month ago, stop complaining.) It was a lovely day, very warm, and we spent our time wandering around the Harbour, listening to music, finally ending up in the Botanic Gardens.

Sorry day

Even though it's the day before the big 1-4, Chris and I are celebrating Valentine's Day today, mostly because we don't want to deal with the crazy, inflated prices and made-up concoctions like "Sushi Loveboat Special" and "Opera House Oysters a Deux". We decide to try a little Italian place in Woolloomooloo that I found in my SydneyEats Guide. Can you believe there's actually a neighborhood with this many oooooooos? This restaurant is right on the finger wharf (celebrity-model central) and is not really my scene, but I'm looking forward to a swank, romantic evening. Unfortunately, the food doesn't live up to our expectaions and the service is pretty poor. My prosciutto pizza definitely left something to be desired. But, um, of course I ate all of it. C'mahhhnnn (as Lleyton Hewitt would say) you're in Woolloomooloo!

The big news of the day is what happened in Canberra this morning at the first parliamentary session of the year. It's quite a historical day for Australia - the Prime Minister is issuing an official apology to "The Stolen Generations" - these are Aboriginal children who were forcibly removed from their families by the Australian government, under various state acts of parliament, between 1869 and 1969. Tens of thousands of children were, without warning, removed and sent to internment camps and orphanages. Many were sexually abused. Needless to say, it's been a huge scar on this country and the Aboriginal people have been waiting for this day for a very long time. Watch this. Prime Minister Rudd's speech sparks deep emotion. I snapped a picture on Australia Day (January 25th) which is a day of national celebration but is called "Day of Mourning" among Aboriginals. This was written in the sky as part of the attempt to start to heal the wound.

The truth

Talk to any Australian and you will quickly discover that everyone here knows that the only reason Americans drink Foster's is because of the world's greatest marketing myth. Yes, you all know it. "Foster's is Australian for Beer". Well played. It's actually a brilliant marketing campaign that hides the cold, hard truth. Here are some quotes from flesh and blood Aussies: "Foster's is utter swill." "I tried Foster's for about 2 minutes back in 1972." And my favorite, "Foster's is not Australian for beer. Foster's is Australian for horse piss."

So now you know. Your welcome.

The National

I'm so excited because this evening we get to see The National. I happened to come across an article in Time Out mentioning that they will be playing at Recital Hall as part of the Sydney Festival. These guys have quickly risen to become one of my very favorite bands (thanks, James and Amanda!) and I'm thrilled to be able to see them perform live. You need to check them out. So this is funny. Before they come on, Chris gets up to go to the restroom and runs into a older couple standing in the lobby. He strikes up conversation and the woman, beaming, proudly announces that they are here to see their son perform. Chris replies, "Wow. That's great! My wife is a big fan." She then asks, "A big fan of Clogs or The National?" Chris replies, "The National." She beams even more and says, "My son is in The National. You know, they played on David Letterman! And they are even going to tour with R.E.M." It is so cute how thrilled she is at telling him this, and Chris responds that they should be very proud of their son. He laughs as he recounts the story to me. The show does not disappoint. It is an amazing performance. Afterwards, we wander back home and try to fall asleep, our ears buzzing. Early day tomorrow so we may have to skip our morning run. Damn. ;)

Aussie speak

I'm really starting to get a feel for the way the English language is spoken here. For starters, everything is abbreviated. Australians don't like to waste energy on long-winded, multi-syllabic words when they could be drinking a middy at the pub. For instance, arvo means afternoon, and and it's brekkie, not breakfast. McDonald's even has a Deluxe Brekkie Roll. Students attend uni, you avoid mozzies with bug spray, and if you're Tasmanian, you're a tazzie. Another thing Australians love to say is "How ya goin'?" instead of "How ya doing'?" This took me some time to get used to, since I think they are asking me where I'm headed, not how I feel. They also like to end phone conversations with "Cheers, ta!" This is always said at least an octave above normal pitch, with women as well as men. At the local pub, they drink middies or schooners, not pints (these are for foreigners) and they wouldn't be caught dead drinking Fosters. They say capsicum, not pepper. At the Australian Open last week, there was a big outcry over the use of capsicum spray by the local police. Another thing I've noticed that Aussies like to do is come up with little rhyming and alliterative phrases. There's an insurance ad on TV right now and they go on and on about 'puffin muffins', 'tossin' possums' and 'wrestling rhinos'. It's very entertaining.

Out and about

Today I think I'll forgo the long diatribe in exchange for some pictures! For those of you with short attention-spans or an aversion to reading (you know who you are) I hope you enjoy the little bit of visual love. :)


This is the Sky View ferris wheel in Darling Harbour. Not quite Navy Pier, but there's something I like about it. Somehow, it reminds me of those slightly run-down, seedy amusement parks we all begged our parents to take us to growing up. Maybe it's the retro sign and the fact that it's about to rain (right after I took this it started pouring). Nothing really special, and no, I didn't take a ride, but there you have it.


Um. Check out the size of that bird. It's bigger than a human! The birds here are large. And Chris and I finally witnessed the bat colonies in the Botanic Gardens! The trees are just dripping with them. Apparently, by their sheer weight, they are damaging the trees and the city has tried everything, including smearing the trees with python feces, and other savory-smelling things like chili and shrimp paste in order to get rid of them. They are the world's LARGEST bats and weigh something like 10 pounds and have a 3-foot wing span. Terrifying. Here's a video - check out the guy at :40.

On Sunday, we were going to head to Manly to check out the beach, but the clouds started rolling in, and once we got to Circular Quay, the storm looked imminent, so we changed our plans. We happened upon a street artist who managed to stuff her 5'3", 100 lb. body into that tiny little box! It took her a bit of time to get in there and in the end, it was a pretty impressive sight. Not for the claustrophobic!

Ahhh, spoken like a true Aussie:

Good advice...