Archive for the 'Australia' Category

April 1st 2008
The Grampians

Posted under Australia

After days of wining and dining, we headed southeast to Halls Gap at Grampians National Park. The Grampians are an impressive range of mountains with more than 150 km of walking trails. In January 2006, a bushfire ravaged much of the area, devouring hectares of forest and wiping out the once-thriving koala population around Halls Gap.

We drove into the park through winding forest roads. Many of the surrounding trees were charred down to blackened remnants but the undergrowth of ferns was lush and thick and many trees seem to have survived the fire. We checked into a friendly, quiet hostel and then drove into tiny Halls Gap to have a look around. In an open field behind one of the restaurants on the main drag, there were about a hundred kangaroos grazing peacefully in the late afternoon. A barbed wire fence precluded us from walking among them but one little Curious George engaged us and hopped toward the fence to get a closer look and a drink from a nearby stream. Despite our distance from the larger group of kangaroos, we were still mesmerized by the sheer number of them and how naturally they seemed to blend into the small town.

The next morning, we went in for a full day hike in the Grampians. The morning air was brisk but the sun was lighting up the trees as we found the trailhead and ventured in. The burned and partially regenerated forest was beautiful; the blackened trees were striking against the pale gray of the living tree trunks and mosses and ferns were sprouting out of everything that seemed otherwise dead. The trail took us through canyons, waterfalls, rivulets and stunning rock formations to a magnificent lookout point at the summit. We ate lunch at the peak, overlooking a distant lake and the valley town of Halls Gap with the forest-covered mountains wrapped around it like a leafy envelope. I remember having that rare, exhilarating sensation of being on top of the world as we listened to pertinent tunes like Ain’t No Mountain High Enough (Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell), Fly Away (Lenny Kravitz) and Free Fallin’ (Tom Petty) on the IPod.

As always, the walk down the mountain was much less intense. When we had almost reached the trailhead again, we spied a sign for another trail and, with the fresh air and surrounding grandeur fueling a euphoric mood, it took a mere glance and a smile to alter our direction onto the new trail. Back up the mountain again, the Chatauqua Peak path was less trodden and groomed and we had it all to ourselves. The tree-clad ridges, spurs, canyons and escarpments afforded us ample thinking space and an opportunity to appreciate nature up close. The final stretch to the peak was a tricky rock climb but the view from the top was definitely worth the effort.

If the first trail energized us, the second one exhausted us and we trudged toward the car park with our earlier vigor spent. We reached the caravan park at the trailhead in the late afternoon to find a group of kangaroos nibbling on a grassy knoll. The roos were surrounded by several giddy observers, which they didn’t seem to mind. One father even sent his little boy into the mix with a fistful of grass to feed them. The kangaroos allowed the boy to approach and one even took a tug at his offering but then uncertainly retreated. They were beautiful – I never tire of watching them.

It was a great day of hiking for the family and a good start to burning off some of the chub accumulated during our period of wine-induced decadence. Seeing the regenerated forest reminded us of the cycle of life and of the beauty, brevity and fragility of our individual existence. We talk often these days about the importance of living this life to the fullest and leaving a positive legacy. “The world is a book. Those who do not travel read only a page.” I saw that quote on a t-shirt in Bangkok and it has stuck in my mind ever since. World travel is inarguably a life-changing experience – one that expands your horizons and changes your perspectives. It offers an education beyond the scope of any classroom – dynamic lessons in humanities, sociology, problem-solving, history, art, architecture, geography, world religion and politics. If the world is a book, then I want to read the whole book and write a new one!

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March 28th 2008
Roos Revealed

Posted under Australia

The Barossa Valley, home to such familiar wine labels as Penfolds, Wolf Blass and Jacob’s Creek, is a region of very flat vineyards – sprawling golden fields and old trees – spread out among three small towns. It is Australia’s best known wine region but we decided to limit our exploration to wineries that have little or no presence in the States. We had driven from Adelaide to Barossa on a whim and, at 5:30pm, had no accommodation lined up. Our second inquiry yielded us a room at the Vineyards Motel, a roadside establishment with seventies-style psychedelic carpet. The room was thoughtfully stocked with a fridge, microwave, toaster, hot pot and a nice array of coffee and tea. We immediately felt at home and settled in for a quiet night of movies.

The next morning, we got a late start, stopped at the Barossa Visitor Info Center for a good map and then grabbed a quick lunch at a local bakery before heading out on the wine trail for a beautiful afternoon of tasting. The region specializes in Shiraz; we were impressed by the Shirazes and the Cabernets (which are more dry and earthy than California Cabs) and we also found the whites delightful. After South Africa and New Zealand, we were happy to be back in the land of reds. We especially enjoyed Rockford Wines. The cellar door was the original nineteenth century stone building which had a dark, cavernous ambience with characteristic antique oak barrels and dusty wine bottles and a perky wine steward. Rockford is known locally for its Black Shiraz – a bubbles-infused holiday red – but it sells out each year in less than six weeks from its December release date so we didn’t get to taste it.

The cellar doors always close around 5pm and there isn’t much to do in the evenings in Barossa aside of dining in one of the four-star restaurants. We were feeling a bit more casual than that so we retired early to the motel and spent the evening watching movies on T.V. The room was so spacious and comfortable and a welcome reprieve from the bunk bed hostels that we’ve been subjected to on the Aussie backpacker circuit. I was happy to stay in and enjoy the quiet comfort.

We were back on the road early the next morning – mostly due to the Bear’s prodding – and headed south to another wine region called McLaren Vale. Some travelers whom we’d met in Queenstown had raved about a good and wine pairing experience that they’d enjoyed at a McLaren Vale winery called Penny’s Hill so we decided to drive down there to check it out. One of the wine stewards in Barossa had recommended a scenic back road route and we looked forward to seeing some Australian country. The road was beautifully lined on both sides with eucalyptus trees forming a green canopy overhead.

A few miles outside of Barossa, we came upon our first Kangaroo Crossing road sign, which incited an exchange of startled, mischievous looks. “I bet we’ll see some,” I said excitedly. “The problem is that it’s too late in the day,” replied the omniscient Bear, “I think they only come out at dawn and dusk.” “Whatever…I think we’ll see some.” Two minutes later. “I saw one! Holy shit, I think I saw one! Stop the car!” Aaron slowed to a stop and then backed the car onto the shoulder. Sure enough, it was a kangaroo, staring suspiciously at us as I crept cautiously toward the barbed wire fence that separated us. Aaron had spotted an entrance to a conservation park just a short distance behind us and we backed up to the entrance. There was a trail cutting through an open field and we walked along with our eyes peeled. Then, suddenly, we saw it! A mother kangaroo suckling her joey about fifty yards away. She spotted us and we slowed our movements so as not to alarm her. As we watched from a comfortable distance, we saw five or six other kangaroos grazing and hopping through the bush behind the mother and joey.

We have heard kangaroos referred to as giant rats but we thought they were magnificent! Their faces were deer-like and sweet; their movements fluid and graceful. We watched for a while, inching closer and closer until our proximity seemed to concern the mother. We didn’t want to disturb the feeding so we backed away and crossed to the other side of the trail where two more mother/joey pairs grazed peacefully while two adult roos lay in a patch of tall grass. Again we moved slowly forward toward the closest pair and, although they were cognizant of our presence, it didn’t seem to bother them. They turned their backs to us and continued grazing. Standing in that straw-colored field, surrounded by kangaroos in the golden light of morning was one of the most magical experiences in my memory. The two adults in the grass eventually stood upright, rubbed their bellies and hopped away. I was so mesmerized that I couldn’t pull myself away until Aaron decided that it was time to get back on the road.

We walked slowly back to the trail and reluctantly headed toward the exit when, suddenly, a kangaroo hopped across the path just a few feet in front of us. It gave me a start and my subsequent gasp startled it right back but it remained, tentatively, a mere ten feet away while we jumped on the fantastic photo-op. Kangaroos are an essential Australian experience and we could not have dreamed a more natural and peaceful scenario in which to encounter them.

After a few more hours of poorly-marked back country roads, we arrived in McLaren Vale in the early afternoon. The only budget accommodation listed in our guide book was a camp and caravan park so we drove there directly to inquire about lodging. We’ve been flying by the seat of our pants on lodging lately, choosing to figure it out upon arrival, and it’s been exciting. There was a range of options from camp sites to caravans (trailers) to fully-powered cabins with temperature control and televisions. The cabins were a little steep so we opted for a trailer and also rented a set of bedding for an additional $10. We pulled the car around to our designated lot and hopped out to check out our new digs. The trailer was modest-sized and probably thirty years old but spotless and well-equipped. We were impressed by the efficient use of space in its design. Inside was a double bed, a kitchen area with a booth-style table and two sets of bunk beds. Outside, next to the trailer, was a shed-size, self-contained private bathroom. It was much more atmospheric (Did I just use the word “atmospheric” to describe a trailer???) and cozy than the bunk bed hostels and I was positively giddy about the experience. We unpacked the car, posed for the requisite trailer pictures, and then went out in search of Penny’s Hill. Unlike Barossa Valley, McLaren Vale vineyards are primarily clustered along one main road so Penny’s Hill was easy to find.

A pretty, old stone house at the property entrance stood behind a picket fence, surrounded by trees. The cellar door and restaurant lay beyond the house, backed by a wide expanse of vineyard. We entered a small, plainly decorated dining room with an outdoor patio and a big window framing a square of sun-kissed grapevines. We sat at an elegantly set table with crisp linen and gleaming bulbous stemware. The pairing was called the Morsels Menu – five courses each paired with a proprietary wine from the cellar:

First course: Tempura fried Kangaroo Island Abalone with wakame salad and wasabi aioli paired with an aromatic Riesling

Second course: Grilled stone fruit and haloumi salad paired with a Viogner blend

Third course: Pumpkin and sage stuffed rotolo pasta, pan-fried in a burnt butter sauce, topped with capers, and paired with a Rosé

Fourth course: Steamed snapper filet with red chutney in a cinnamon lime broth paired with a Grenache

Fifth course: Masala-crusted, twice-cooked Angus beef with vegetable salad in beetroot dressing and spiced yoghurt sauce paired with a Shiraz

I have only one word to describe this experience…ORGASMIC!!! We chewed slowly, savoring every mouthful of unique flavor profiles. We left the two-hour dining experience warm and fuzzy from the generous pours and overwhelmed by the tantalizing tastes that lingered on our palates.

On the way (well, actually, out of the way) back to the trailer park, we stopped off at a couple more wineries that our Penny’s Hill server had recommended. The McLaren Vale wine lands were more hilly and picturesque than the wide flat expanses of the Barossa Valley and we took in some great views from Samuel’s Gorge Wines in the hills.

Back at the trailer park, we settled in for the night. We didn’t spring for the temperature-controlled unit so we were bundled up against the autumn chill. We spent the evening playing Uno, reading and (astonishingly, considering our locale) piggybacked on a spotty wireless internet connection. In a moment of lax judgment, I broke open the bottle of dessert wine that we’d bought at Penny’s Hill and plunged recklessly towards belligerence. Aaron laughed every time I professed my love for the trailer and he promised (threatened) to buy me one as soon as we get home. Penny’s Hill was changing their Morsels Menu from the summer menu to the autumn menu in two days and I worked all night to sway Aaron to stay two more nights in the trailer so that we could do it again. I had succeeded in winning him over on at least one more night by the time we fell asleep but, when morning came, this little camper had a hangover and the thought of another day of wine tasting was borderline repulsive. We decided instead to continue our road trip. We checked out of the trailer park and headed southeast towards Hall’s Gap in the Grampian Mountains.

It’s been an exciting few days in Aussieland with a flourish of new experiences. We are headed east towards Melbourne in great spirits and with eight or so days to stop and explore along the way. I suspect and hope that we haven’t seen the last of the kangaroos.

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March 25th 2008
Northern Lights

Posted under Australia

We flew out of Sydney on a gray, rainy morning and emerged in Adelaide, two hours later, under clear sunny skies. Our hostel was in the city center and we spent the day exploring the city on foot. Adelaide, known for its beautiful parks and gardens, has wide sweeping streets, nineteenth century European architecture, two universities, white sand beaches and an active cultural arts scene.

The gorgeous weather begged us to be outdoors and we happily complied. We found an Asian food alley and fought the swarms to indulge in a Chinese lunch on a busy patio. While chomping on our dumplings, we watched demure women in Geisha costumes handing out flyers to passersby and people lining up at a stall across the way selling Taiwanese bubble milk tea, which naturally roused our curiosity. Bubble milk tea, as we soon discovered for ourselves, is thick chilled tea-infused milk with gelatinous pearls on the bottom, which get sucked up through a fat straw. It’s brilliant! And it wasn’t just the kiddos lining up for it. We later walked through the nearby Central Market, stocking up on specialty groceries to get us through the Easter holiday.

Easter Sunday started out a little rough. I had this grand idea to lead the family on a nature walk that was recommended and mapped in our guide book. We started off well and, when Aaron instinctively second-guessed a proposed turn, I snapped the map away and arrogantly scolded him to follow the leader. It took a mere ten minutes more for us to collectively determine that I had misread the map and led us completely astray.

There have been moments in my life of sheer and utter mortification at my own behavior and idiocy – most people who know me well can attest to that – but it’s been a while since all of the blood rushed to my head in shameful, speechless self-deprecation. Aaron must have sensed my fiery emotional state because he graciously allowed me to fume in peace without adding a razor-sharp “I told you so” to my fragile state of inner torment. It feels awful to realize your own incompetence and even worse when it has been exposed. It wasn’t until hours later, when I’d had a chance to cool off, that we could laugh about the whole ordeal – how snappy and confident I had been and how quickly I became an ostrich with its head in the sand.

We lay around the hostel for several hours in the afternoon and then decided to get out for some fresh air and beer. The cool evening air was a welcome reprieve from the stuffy hostel and I felt my spirits lifting as we strolled down Rundle Mall Road, past street performers, sidewalk tradesmen, skateboarders and families, to a pub called Austral. Nearly all of the outdoor tables were packed with locals but we snagged one and sat down for a salty pub dinner and a couple of beers. The usually bustling Rundle Mall was wonderfully quiet.

We walked a while after dinner, enjoying our rehabilitated moods, and stumbled upon a fabulous community event called Northern Lights. The innovative creators devised a brilliant light show using a series of nineteenth century stone buildings, which transformed their classic facades into illuminated psychedelic cartoon houses. Each of the six buildings had several rotating patterns and “ooohs” and “aaahs” of the mesmerized crowd followed each successive change. The front courtyards of each building were full of spectators. Children squealed with delight. Cameras flashed. Ubiquitous smiles brightened faces, young and old. I darted from one façade to the next, beseeching Aaron to follow my movements and photograph all the best ones.

The Monday after Easter is a public holiday in Australia so everything is closed. We walked a few blocks to Linear Park on the Torrens River. It was another cloudless day so we rented bikes and rode on a trail along the river to Henley Beach – a quiet white sand beach frequented by locals and virtually untouched by tourism. We sat in the sand and made a picnic, staring out at the almost waveless sea. As we made our way back to the bike stand, there were many people on the trail and in the surrounding parks enjoying the beautiful weather. The river was dotted with fountains, black swans, ducks, and paddle boats with multi-colored umbrellas. It was refreshing to see so many people outside. We dropped off the bikes and walked the trail in the opposite direction through the city’s botanical gardens before heading back to our grungy home base to relax for the rest of the afternoon and evening. So that was Easter in Adelaide. No family dinners, no church (we’re Orthodox Christians so we will celebrate Easter on Apr 27 this year, which is no excuse for Sunday truancy), no chocolate bunnies…just a brief emotional breakdown, a brilliant light show and a sunny riverside bike ride.

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March 21st 2008
Walkabout in Sydney

Posted under Australia

Arriving on the early plane from Auckland, we took a shuttle bus to our pre-booked hostel, Kanga House, in the Sydney suburb of Kings Cross. The hostel was disappointingly shabby, dirty and crowded with grungy twenty-year-olds; disappointing because we had such great luck with hostels in New Zealand. The bright side of the situation is that we have been forced to be outside from morning ‘til night. The kitchen is too cramped and dirty to consider self-catering so we’re eating every meal out – a nice change actually – and we’ve quickly discovered numerous takeaway sushi stalls from which we can stuff ourselves for less than $10. Kings Cross has undergone many incarnations from its nineteenth century origin as a neighborhood of grand estates to its current manifestation of funky backpacker vibe with a seedy strip club element and the token vagabonds with the heroin itch. Beautiful terraced Victorian and Art Deco homes turned into guesthouses are literally overflowing with backpackers and the sounds of drunken debauchery can be heard at all hours of the night. There is a bohemian café and pub culture as well as a deliciously multicultural cuisine offering, especially Asian fare. Despite our deficient digs, we really like the laid back aura of the neighborhood.

Strangely relieved to be without a car, we tackled the city on foot. Sydney is a very walkable city with wide sidewalks on every city street. We headed straight for the city center, strolling down William Street with its Bentley, Maserati, Ferrari and Lamborghini dealerships and cutting through beautiful Hyde Park, which on Tuesday midday, was full of people enjoying the outdoors: families enjoying picnics, young lovers entwined beneath shady trees, business people on lunch break, college coeds flaunting their toned and tanned youth, and tourists taking it all in.

We walked through streets lined with flashy, modern skyscrapers, their street-level windows filled with the most pretentious nouveau fashions and sidewalks crowded with flawless physiques sporting the latest trends. Curving around St. Mary’s Cathedral on the eastern edge of Hyde Park, we reached the entrance to the Royal Botanic Gardens and the adjacent Domain, a grassy recreation area. The welcome sign at the garden entrance said, “Please walk on the grass. We also invite you to smell the roses, hug the trees, talk to the birds and picnic on the lawns.” The lush green gardens with old European fountains and sweeping trees delighted our senses as we strolled along the winding paths.

One of Australia’s most tantalizing intrigues is its unique mix of flora and fauna. Walking under a canopy of trees, we stumbled upon a colony of grey-headed flying foxes, a.k.a giant furry bats! Hanging upside down from the tree tops, hundreds of the sinister little creatures screeched, squawked, played and antagonized each other as we watched in stoic fascination from below. Their glossy black bat wings wrapped vampire-style around their furry bodies to shield them from the sunlight as they dangled from the highest heights. We stood watching their antics and acrobatics, fearful of a flying fox descending upon us, voluntarily or by accident, until I finally decided that we’d tempted fate long enough.

We moved on to a scenic walkway along the edge of the gardens bordering scenic Sydney Harbour with a view of Australia’s most recognized structures: the Sydney Opera House. Positioned on the tip of a peninsula, the architectural masterpiece is set against a backdrop of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and jagged Sydney cityscape. It is undoubtedly the most photographed and striking view in Sydney. We walked to the front entrance for a closer look and then stopped at a café for a cool drink in view of the Opera House. Newly refreshed, we headed back through the Botanic Gardens, rounding the far peninsula while dodging bus loads of Asian tourists and taking a short cut back to Kings Cross.

The next morning was equally sunny and we set out for the ferry dock, cutting through the Botanic Gardens again since the dock is conveniently located next to the Opera House. Aaron wanted to do the Manly Scenic Walk, which is ten kilometers long and reputedly one of Australia’s most beautiful walks. It began with a ferry ride, with the best views of the Opera House, to the northeast suburb of Manly. Just outside the ferry dock, we bought provisions for a picnic lunch, picked up a good trail map at the Visitor Information Center, and followed the signs for the Manly Scenic Walkway. The well-marked path began by edging between a picturesque beach and a neighborhood of oceanfront houses amid beautiful old trees. It led us along sandy pedestrian beaches, through waterside nature reserves and along quiet coves dotted with white yachts and sailboats. The terrain changed frequently from paved trails to sandy beach to bedrock surrounded by subtropical rainforest and native bush. The path meandered through Sydney Harbour National Park, in which we spotted numerous goannas. Beautiful in a reptilian sort of way, the skittish foot-long lizards appeared every few minutes during our walk through the park, sunning themselves on rocks and running upright in quick bow-legged strides. After a long stretch along beautiful Clontarf Beach, the walk concluded at the Spit Bridge where we caught the city bus back to the city center. After two days of pounding the pavement, our feet were throbbing and we were actually excited about returning to the Kanga House to relax for the rest of the evening.

Day Three in Sydney began with a leisurely breakfast followed by a walk to Hyde Park. We claimed a shady spot under a big tree and became part of the sprawling scene. It felt wonderful to stare out across the open lawn, engross myself in the latest novel and enjoy the gentle breeze. We sat for just over an hour, which was all the idleness that my listless Bear could handle in one sitting, before packing up and heading for Darling Harbour. In true Sydney form of endlessly engaging sights and activities, Darling Harbour is home to the Sydney Aquarium, Sydney Wildlife World, the Australian National Maritime Museum, an aquatic-themed IMAX theater and two wharfs lined with trendy cafes and restaurants. We twiddled our thumbs outside Wildlife World, debating the prospect of paying sixty bucks for the privilege of elbowing our way through swarms of screaming children to see kangaroos and koalas in a simulated natural habitat before shucking the idea in favor of a visit to the Sydney Fish Market.

West of Darling Harbour, on the edge Blackwattle Bay, the warehouse-style fish market appeared at the end of a trail of raw fish stench wafting through the air. In the late afternoon, patrons crowded around a huge oyster bar; glass cases displaying gigantic Australian lobsters, soft-shell crabs, green-lip mussels, scallops, eel, squid, octopus, huge salmon, snapper, tuna, king prawns, sea snails, trout and every imaginable ocean dweller, neatly organized on beds of crushed ice; sushi bars, a wine cellar, delicatessen, bakery, and a fish and chips shop. The energy was high inside the bustling fish market as customers hand-selected the freshest items from the displays to carry away or enjoy with a bottle of wine at one of the indoor tables. Having just eaten a late lunch and having no desire to cook in the nasty Kanga House kitchen, we perused the colorful catch but remained spectators.

The walk back to Kings Cross was long and, on the verge of wilting in the afternoon heat, we stopped on a shaded bench in Hyde Park to rest. We sat for a while, listening to songs on our iPod and watching passersby. I am enamored with the park. I wonder how many people live here and take it for granted.

We treated ourselves to a lovely Vietnamese dinner at a place in Kings Cross. Feasting on Vietnamese spring rolls, crispy duck, and stir-fried seafood and vegetables al dente renewed our excitement for our upcoming visit to Vietnam. We are thankful for our matching adventurous palates. Shortly thereafter, we stumbled upon Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups – which we have been craving for months – in a corner store. With our sugary booty, we retired to our respective bunk beds like good little campers. Aaron painstakingly took the top bunk, aptly renamed “the penthouse”, because I get up more often during the night. For an only child, he is adoringly thoughtful and generous. This never ceases to amaze me.

Today, our last day in Sydney, finally feels like Fall. We awoke to drizzle though we haven’t felt a drop since we left the hostel this morning. The air is cool and crisp, overcast but still enjoyable. Many businesses are closed for Good Friday but we’ve managed to bounce from one café to another, maintaining a solid caffeine fix and attending to the usual rainy day business of planning travel and playing online. Tomorrow, we’re off to Adelaide on the morning plane.

We have really enjoyed our time in Sydney. It has all of the perks, style, cultural arts, elegance and luxurious temptations of a cosmopolitan city. For those of us in the zero-income demographic, there are manicured parks and gardens, pristine beaches, museums, galleries, a plethora of bohemian haunts to satisfy the multicultural palate, and plenty of interesting characters to keep the people-watchers intrigued. Sydney is walkable, livable and lovable. We love the healthy, vibrant outdoor culture and the beauty of the people, landscapes and architecture. Sydney is definitely a place to hang your hat.

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