Travels Down Under - Australia and New Zealand

Heading Home and a Recap

2008-02-10T21:40:00.000-05:00

Well, I’m sitting in the Air New Zealand Koru Lounge at the Sydney Airport, getting ready to board my flight back to the States (I’m flying United, but their lounge is pretty lousy here – I can use Air NZ’s lounge because I’m Star Alliance Gold – the food’s a lot better, and the furniture doesn’t smell like mold). I’ve been down here for 5 weeks, and it really has flown by. I’m a lucky guy. I can spend this much time in a part of the world that I love, and still call it “research” for my new company.

Looking back, there have been a lot of highlights (and a few lowlights), some really good times and experiences on this trip. Here are a few of the best (and worst):

Best moment. This is a tough one. There were so many. I’d have to go with sitting on the front deck of our room on Kangaroo Island in the evening, feeding Roo food to the neighborhood wallabies who have grown accustomed to a free nibble from the tourists down the hill. At one point, we had six wallabies (and a possum) surrounding us, and a couple of them were brave enough to rest their paws on my knee while they ate the little pellets (looks a lot like guinea pig food, for those who had small, caged childhood pets). One practically climbed into my lap. It brings out the kid in you in a really wonderful way. Top that off with a brilliant clear sky and a zillion stars, and you have a pretty perfect moment. Seeing John at the airport in Uluru is up there, too (you know who you are…). Honorable mention to touring the Adelaide wine country with Ralf, spotlighting the animals with Bruce and Lesley, and every time my jaw dropped at New Zealand scenery.

Worst Moment. Two of them, both courtesy of United Airlines. The first was realizing that my luggage was lost and they had no way to track it (as if it was 1960 and they handwrote a bag tag) upon my arrival. The second happened yesterday, when I checked the status of my flight only to discover that it had been cancelled. They rebooked me on a later flight that more or less trashed my connections in LA. Granted, I can’t complain too much, because I used miles for my ticket here, but they haven’t exactly established a stellar track record with me on this trip. Going forward, it’s Qantas or Air NZ for me.

Best Hotel. A virtual tie between the Sofitel in Queenstown, NZ (five stars isn’t enough – you will feel like you’re among the pampered elite from the minute you check in) and the Star City Grand in Auckland (a 5-star hotel with a slightly funky, Ian Schrager feel – great lobby, great rooms, and a fantastic restaurant in Peter Gordon’s Dine). I’m also always partial to the Swissotel in Sydney, where the service is impeccable.

Worst Hotel. None were disasters, thankfully. One a five week trip, that’s a stroke of luck. But I would have to say my “chalet” at the Hermitage in Mount Cook (in fact, an overpriced motel room with an unlocked connecting door to the next room – when, much to my surprise, my “neighbors” quickly opened and closed it at about 11 pm, I pushed a table in front of it to block further entry the rest of the night) was slightly less impressive than the Lost Camel Hotel at Uluru (billed as a “boutique hotel”, it’s actually a motel with some edgy paint colors to give it that “boutique” feel. $300 per night, and no extra charge for the window in the shower/toilet facing a busy walkway and the wasps dive bombing us in the pool).

Best Food. A really tough call. There was so much good food – a lifetime on the exercise bike couldn’t work it off. This is truly a foodie’s paradise. So, as a Risotto freak, I’d say my very subjective number one would be the best Risotto I’ve ever had in my life, at Tutto Bene in Melbourne.

Worst Food. OK, this is entirely my fault. Driving north from Auckland to the Bay of Islands, it was lunchtime and I thought, “I ought to have a pub lunch in one of these small towns.” Bad call. The “pub” I picked – and this is unusual, because though I’m not so good at many things, I can usually sniff out the good stuff when I travel – was more of a biker bar upon closer inspection. I ordered some chicken thing and a salad. The chicken was fried to the point of being a blunt instrument/weapon, and the salad was covered in canned beets with a big dollop of mayonnaise on top. I ate a bag of chips and left. I’m not naming names or towns, because the people there were pretty nice and the chances of any readers doing something similarly idiotic are pretty remote.

Nicest People. Everyone, everywhere, especially in smaller towns. The bar for “nice” is so much higher here than in the States, and it’s consistently reached. A friendlier, more cohesive society will do that.

Meanest People. There has to be one – I’d say it’s the guy in Sydney who started yelling (actually, more of a loud, drunken slur) at me in a bar because, in his considered opinion, I was taking too much time to select songs on a video jukebox. He didn’t back off. Foregoing the details, lets just say that was one encounter I won't want to preserve for my mental scrapbook.

Biggest Surprise. New Zealand is big – it takes awhile to drive what look like short distances on a map. Good thing the scenery’s always so stunning.

Biggest Regret. None, really. If I didn’t do it this time, I’ll do it next time. I’ll be back.

Cruising Around the City of Sails

2008-02-08T00:35:00.000-05:00

Auckland is a great small city. At just over 1 million residents, it’s smaller that most major American cities, but it’s definitely New Zealand’s metropolis. Once considered to be little more than a necessary stopover on the way to more interesting destinations in New Zealand, Auckland has come into its own as a place worthy of exploration.

One main reason is the number and range of really amazing natural attractions that exist within an hour of the city. If you like the outdoors, this is a great city to visit. The first thing that jumps out at you is Auckland’s proximity to the water. Called “the City of Sails”, Auckland is situated on a beautiful bay filled with islands, beaches and natural harbors. Auckland has the highest per capita boat ownership in the world, and it’s readily apparent in the number of sailboats out on the bay. They’ve even built a big harborside attraction around their former triumph in the America’s Cup.

Though there’s plenty to do in the city, you’d be cheating yourself if you didn’t get out of town a bit to see the surrounding countryside. Just a short drive away there are mountains, forests, and beaches that can make you feel like you are days away from civilization.

I took a half day tour today with a company called Bush & Beach. They specialize in showing visitors the natural wonders that surround Auckland. I usually chafe at tours, preferring to do my own exploring, but Bush & Beach came highly recommended as a way to see some of what makes the Auckland region so beautiful. I always climb aboard a tour bus (even a small one like ours) with trepidation – and as I was the only American among 10 or so touring older Brits, it took me a few extra minutes to overcome my irrational fears (they turned out to be wonderful companions for the day, so shame on me). Bush & Beach didn’t disappoint. Allan, our guide and a transplanted Brit from some 30 years ago, made his love for the Auckland region evident in the knowledge he displayed about the local flora & fauna, history, and Maori culture. We visited some amazing spots that you’d never believe were 30-45 minutes from the center of a major city.

A highlight of the tour was visiting the beach where “The Piano” was filmed. Unlike the movie, we had blue skies and a calm sea to enjoy it (and Holly Hunter, in a black dress and bonnet, was nowhere to be found). It was a stunning, unspoiled stretch of beach with volcanic sand and rocky headlands framed by jungly forested hills. A 10 minute walk into those hills was a picture perfect waterfall cascading down into a small, clear pool where a couple of people were swimming (the Maori name for the area and the beach, Karekare, means “cascading waters”). Afterward, we hiked through a rainforest that seemed absolutely prehistoric. Huge trees, ferns, vines, and palms that looked like an impenetrable jungle. You expected to see a triceratops grazing nearby. Nothing at home looks like this. And it’s all within Auckland’s regional park system – still 45 minutes or so from the center of the city.

So, if you’re coming to New Zealand, even if you’re excited about all the mountains, lakes, beaches, and vineyards you’re going to see elsewhere, don’t just change planes in Auckland. You’ll see a lot of what makes New Zealand spectacular right here, and you’ll be able to top it off with drinks and dinner that evening when you’re back in the city.

Tex-Mex and Baseball in Auckland

2008-02-07T05:00:00.000-05:00

I pulled into Auckland tonight after a wonderful drive down the northwest coast of the North Island. A perfect weather day, and spectacular scenery – beautiful beaches with massive sand dunes at Hokianga, green rolling hills and impressive coastal mountains. I also spent time walking among the Kauri trees, some of the oldest and biggest trees in the world, only found in this part of New Zealand.

After 4 ½ weeks on the road, I confess that I occasionally wax nostalgic about guilty pleasures from home. One of those pleasures is Mexican food. Good, bad or otherwise, I love it. It’s hard to find in this part of the world. So when I discovered that there was a place called the Mexican Café (known locally as The Mex – it was packed, and fun – the margaritas are the reason to go) a block from my hotel in the Auckland CBD, I caved and decided to have a very non-kiwi experience for dinner. After this, I’ll only eat fresh, delicious New Zealand cuisine the next three nights, or so I said.

I settled in at the bar and ordered a margarita to go with my plate of enchiladas. Brad, the New Zealander bartender, asked me where I was from in the States. He told me he’d traveled around the U.S. and had been to Florida, including Fort Lauderdale, my hometown. I asked him what he thought of Florida (we both agreed it was too hot for human habitation), and he said the highlight was attending an N.F.L. game. I expressed my pleasure and surprise – the other guilty pleasure I miss is our sports, which I confess to following by computer while away - and he said, “oh, I love American sports.” My jaw dropped – in Australia and New Zealand, that statement is up there with “your hair is on fire” or “here, have a $100 bill, I’m tired of carrying it” among the most unlikely phrases you’ll hear. The kiwis love their rugby, and the Australians love rugby and Aussie Rules, depending on where they live. Most people down here, when confronted with American Football, find it dull and perplexing. Notably, those who have seen it on TV – they televise the Super Bowl - are aghast at the number of stoppages for commercials (they’re dead on with that one).

Brad knew his American sports. We talked football, which he seemed to relish. He subscribes to ESPN on satellite dish so he can keep up with his very un-kiwi passion. I encouraged him to attend a college game the next time he was in the U.S. He asked which college I attended, and I told him “South Carolina.” Brad replied, “oh, Steve Spurrier. The ole ball coach.” I loved this guy. It was like a higher power directed me to this restaurant to satisfy my weakness for American sport. We talked about the differences between our college and pro games, and I mentioned that my second degree was from Duke (the first Duke/UNC game is tomorrow). Brad replied, “it’s good they got that Lacrosse mess cleared up.” Who knew? At least here, anyway?

Brad had an Orioles cap on, and he mentioned that he collected MLB caps – hard to come by in New Zealand and expensive, but he has 20 of the major league teams. He didn’t have a Florida Marlins ball cap, though. So I went back to my hotel room, pulled out the Florida Marlins cap I’d been packing in my suitcase, and brought it back to The Mex as a Waitangi Day present for Brad. I think I have a friend for life – apparently it’s a golden nugget for his collection (I decided not to tell him that the Marlins have the lowest payroll in baseball, and consistently sell off any good players they develop once they show an inkling of talent).

Though this post doesn’t necessarily extol the virtues of travel in Australia and New Zealand, and it definitely exposes my periodic outbreaks of weakness for things American while on the road in another country, it was cool to connect with a kiwi from 10,000 miles away about something I know like the back of my hand. And it was also nice to share a little piece of my culture, however base, and make someone’s day as a result. Maybe that’s what makes travel abroad so great, even when the subject descends to Tex-Mex and baseball.

Happy Waitangi Day

2008-02-05T00:45:00.000-05:00

No need to Google “Waitangi.” Here’s a brief, Americanized explanation. Waitangi Day is the New Zealander’s counterpart to our Fourth of July – the day New Zealand is acknowledged to have been born as a nation by its citizens, and a holiday spent celebrating national pride. It’s fundamentally different from our Independence Day, and most other national days of former colonies (save, perhaps, South Africa) in that it celebrates the unification of the European settlers with the indigenous people – in New Zealand’s case, the Maori.

By 1840, the European presence in New Zealand was transforming from a predominantly transient population of whalers and sealers to a more permanent agricultural community due largely to waves of immigrants coming from England seeking a better life (they weren’t convicts – only the Aussies were – and New Zealanders will remind you of that every chance they get). The Maori, divided for hundreds of years among warring tribes, often tolerated their European interlopers because they were seen as good trading partners whose muskets could provide a competitive advantage over neighboring tribes. However, the warfare between tribes was getting out of hand (due in large part to the aforesaid muskets), and other colonial powers of the time, notably France, were increasingly seen as threats by both the English and the Maori.

So, on February 6, 1840, the English magistrate present at the time, James Busby, called together many rival chiefs to his house at Waitangi and negotiated a treaty that all signed, essentially proclaiming English and Maori alike to be “one people.” Intended to preserve Maori land rights and offer the British Crown’s protection, it failed in practice more often than not over the ensuing years, but the foundation was laid for a nation based on mutual respect among peoples. Though it sounds like the typical white colonial balderdash that Europeans pulled to trick the natives and grab the land in those days, it morphed into the figurative cornerstone of the country – and it was taken seriously (Treaty reparations for land unlawfully taken occurred as recently as 10 years ago). Might’ve been good if we’d been half as virtuous in our dealings with the Native American’s, eh?

I’m fortunate enough to be staying about 500m from the New Zealander equivalent to Independence Hall, the Waitangi Treaty Grounds. The land where the Treaty was signed was donated by private owners as a Trust about 70 years ago to create a place of national pride for New Zealand, and the presentation on the history of the treaty (especially the Maori meeting house) is worth a look. It’s also a beautiful spot, with great walks and an absolutely incredible view over land and water.

Waitangi Day is a great time to be here, because preparations for the February 6 celebration are taking place and the excitement is palpable. The townspeople all seem to ask if you’re going, so it must be pretty good. The most interesting part, at least to me, is the Maori festival getting underway right outside the Treaty Grounds entrance. Maori from all over the country are gathered to eat good food, listen to music, buy and sell things emblematic of Maori pride, promote community activism and generally celebrate both their contribution to the country and their uniqueness as a people. I’ve tried to absorb what I can about Maori culture as I’ve traveled around New Zealand, because it’s such a unique part of being here. They have a wild and incredibly fascinating history, both as fearsome warriors and a tremendously resourceful people, building a complex society from what they found on the land and brought across the ocean in seafaring canoes. In recent years, there has been renewed emphasis on Maori culture as an integral part of New Zealand society. Maori language is taught in schools here, and there is a Maori language television channel.

The festival was a good opportunity to observe and learn more. I explored it this afternoon, and though I’m clearly Paheka (European) there was no sense of being out of place. I was always greeted warmly. In fact, the Maori I talked with today were gracious hosts; they showed more interest in where I was from and expressed more gratitude about the effort made to visit their country than I’d experienced anywhere else in New Zealand.

Many of the people who set up tents or stalls promoting goods/food for sale or a community group were camping alongside. The food on sale smelled really good – I would’ve skipped lunch had I known. The theme everywhere was pride in being Maori, and a lot of the messages on banners and t-shirts were political; there is a real sovereignty movement among the Maori that is apparently gaining strength (there is also a huge police presence here, perhaps in reaction to this movement according to some I talked with today; there were more police around the Treaty Grounds than I’ve seen anywhere in Australia or New Zealand). Across the street, there were huge ornate war canoes (known as “wakas”) on the beach for a reenactment in the morning, and dozens of Maori kids next to the canoes playing in the water and jumping off the low bridge into the Waitangi River. The whole afternoon had the feel of extended family and community. You’d have to be in a really bad mood not to enjoy it.

Waitangi, by the way, is part of a beautiful coastal region in New Zealand called the Bay of Islands. The bay in question actually contains a total of 144 islands (for the stat freak buried in all of us…). It’s a three hour drive north of Auckland, near the top of the North Island. Since New Zealand is south of the equator, and we’re so far north, the climate here is typically subtropical in the summer. Not today, though, as the weather gremlins continue to follow me around NZ – it was unseasonably cool and showery today. Still, I risked the elements once again by taking a boat tour of the Bay, and was rewarded with some beautiful scenery, aquamarine water that is reminiscent of the best parts of the Caribbean (it even stays that color when the weather’s cloudy), and a pod of 12 or so dolphins playing alongside our boat for about 45 minutes. Not bad for a lousy weather day.

So Happy Waitangi Day to all.

Canterbury Tales

2008-02-03T23:49:00.000-05:00

If you’ve read my last few posts, you don’t have to be clairvoyant to realize that I probably needed to proverbially get off the mountain, dry off, put the hiking boots back in the suitcase and feel some concrete under my feet for awhile. So I headed to Christchurch for a couple of nights, the largest city on the South Island. While cities aren’t the big attraction here in New Zealand, and I didn’t need too much urban electricity, I was looking forward to my time there.

A self-styled slice of England, Christchurch prides itself on being the most English of New Zealand’s cities (even the taxi drivers will tell you that). There are definitely a lot of pleasant reminders for the anglophile – the beautiful parks and gardens, the punters on the river Avon (yep, the river’s really named the Avon and you can punt for a small fee – I passed, having been wet enough in my clothes just a few days ago), and the big cathedral in the main city square. Even the region of New Zealand that surrounds Christchurch is called Canterbury. Still, the sunshine and brilliant blue skies yesterday were more Tuscany than Oxfordshire, and the outdoor café culture that seems very prevalent here doesn’t exactly make you think of England. Regardless, it’s probably easier to find a scone at high tea in Christchurch than it is in the rest of New Zealand (and they seem to like it that way).

Allusions to England aside, Christchurch is a really pleasant place to spend a couple of days, especially when you’re a 40’ish guy recovering from several days of rafting rivers, hiking glaciers, etc. If you find yourself here nursing a case of the shakes from your first bungee jump, the following are some ideas on good ways to enjoy the city:

1. Christchurch has a small district called the Arts Centre, essentially a former boy’s school converted to a collection of work/performance spaces and galleries for the local arts community. It really comes alive on the weekend. The highlight is the outdoor market, with local craftsmen selling art, handicrafts, jewelry and the like. Unlike a lot of these markets where it looks like every vendor is selling stuff unloaded from the same truck, the impression you get here is that the people manning the stalls actually made what they’re selling (or at least they know who did). No “made in China” stickers to be found. A great place to find knick knacks for the folks back home. It’s also a great place to grab lunch – there are food stalls from all over the world. These stalls may be the first family business for some of New Zealand’s many recent immigrants, with grandma collecting the money and the kids and grandkids cooking your food, be it from Thailand, Lebanon or India. Great street food – you can munch a kebab or eat a plate of noodles while you’re deciding which wool slippers or ceramic kiwi you’re going to buy. All surrounded by the old Boy’s High School, dating from the turn of the century, making the scene look like the set of a Merchant Ivory film.

2. Christchurch has a great museum. It’s called the Canterbury Museum, named after the region. I was hesitant to enter, especially on a beautiful day, fully expecting to see glass cases filled with snuff boxes from the second Lord Mayor and clippings preserved from the first lawn mowed in town (circa 1887). It was, in fact, worth forgoing the sunshine for a couple of hours. The museum has a great exhibit on Maori culture, with full size war canoes, and an impressive section on Antarctica, including an actual Antarctic research/weather station that was essentially reassembled in the museum after its closure. Cool, interesting stuff. The art museum, just a couple of blocks away, has a collection with a mainly local emphasis, but it’s housed in a great modern building, which in itself is worth a look.

3. It's a very compact city - probably more of a big town. Everything is within easy walking distance, branching off within a couple of blocks of Cathedral Square in the middle of town. The best restaurants and bars seem to be on Oxford Terrace (known as “the strip”, but seeming a lot more gentrified than its name) and around Lichfield Street.

4. My general good mood about being in Christchurch was no doubt enhanced by a really terrific hotel. I can’t vouch for the run of the house rooms at the Heritage Christchurch, but my one bedroom suite in the converted former government building next door to the main hotel was top notch. Built in 1909, the building has tons of character. I had a corner room with very high ceilings – the bedroom itself was a loft – and I thought, “I’m sleeping in the mayor’s office.” The suite was huge and had everything a guy who’s been on the road for 4 weeks could want – even a small washer/dryer (a side note - many thanks to Linda from housekeeping, who saved my butt last night while packing by offering to dry my clothes when my little dryer appeared to be on the blink).

All in all, Christchurch was a good place to rest and revive after spending days battling the great outdoors (and generally losing). Though you don’t come to New Zealand for the cities, Christchurch is a good break between adventures.

The Smart Hiker's Guide to New Zealand

2008-02-01T23:21:00.000-05:00

I’m not meant to be an outdoorsman. A city boy at heart, I like my creature comforts. I appreciate nature and love wildlife, but I’m not a born hiker, hunter, fisherman, or mountain climber by any stretch of the imagination. It might be because I’m not smart enough to figure out how to do it right, without hurting myself or undergoing extreme humiliation.

Yesterday was a case in point. I drove from Queenstown, New Zealand through country that looks remarkably like Napa but with many more sheep (New Zealand’s sheep population is 10 times its human population) to Mt. Cook. Its Maori name, Aoraki, means “Cloud Piercer”, and at over 12,000 feet Mt. Cook is the tallest mountain in New Zealand. Though the mountaintop is often shrouded in clouds from the valley floor below, there are three glaciers that are accessible by hike, including the longest glacier outside the arctic.

The weather was a little dicey yesterday, with cloudy, showery periods interspersed all day with moments of sunshine. The worst weather I saw en route wasn’t so bad, though - some extended drizzle, including the final drive up to Mt. Cook village. Unfortunately, at 12,000 feet, you can’t see the top of the mountain on a cloudy day, but I was determined to make the most of my time here – I was off today for Christchurch and then the North Island – so I dumped my bags, put on my hiking boots and a hat, and headed for one of the glacier hiking trails.

Captain Camper that I am, I started the 2-3 hour roundtrip walk in hiking shorts and a t-shirt, despite the drizzle. The sun looked like it was breaking through in spots, and I figured even with a little rain I’d stay cool on a long walk. Most of the other hikers I saw had on long pants and raingear, and tended to give me an odd look or a knowing smile that said “you’ve never walked off pavement before in your life, have you?” (I actually have, and I enjoy this kind of tramping (as they say here in NZ) a lot, but I never learn any lessons from bad prior experiences…). I, on the other hand, was reveling in my relative comfort, when others seemed to be bundled beyond recognition.

The weather held for the walk up, and the glacier was massive and awesome – you could see the ancient ice flows and look down a cliff to a gray mass of ice that is becoming a glacial lake (these glaciers are melting fast due in large part to global warming). I’d never been this close to a glacier before (haven’t taken an Alaska cruise or been to that part of Montana), so this was a treat.

As I admired the raw nature, the drizzle quickly turned to steady rain. OK, so I’m getting a little wet. No problem. Water never hurt anyone, right? Another 5 minutes or so passed, and it started to sleet. It’s midsummer here in New Zealand, so I didn’t plan on this. But a real outdoorsman would probably figure that weather on a glacier can get pretty nasty any time of year. It was clearly time to begin the walk back, with a dry shirt and a warm shower at the top of my agenda. Many of those same hikers I saw on the 1 ½ hour journey up now viewed the soggy, cold American with expressions ranging from bemusement to abject pity. Adding insult to injury, a Japanese tour group the size of a small city (with guide) was walking up as I was walking back. They were geared up in raincoats with hoods, umbrellas, etc. As I marched past them, I felt glad that I didn’t know enough Japanese to translate “American idiot…thinks this is a day at the beach….”

I made it back, and quickly worked on getting warm and dry (though it may take weeks for my t-shirt to dry completely). Having regained my perspective, it was amazing to be so close to a glacier. There were hikes on the map to glaciers reputed to be even more spectacular. Sounded like a great plan for a sunny day…

The weather was a bit more cooperative today, and I hiked to the base of Tasman Glacier (while keeping one eye at all times for the slightest specter of rain clouds). A little sunshine makes all the difference. The ice and snow really do alternate between white and blue. There’s a lot of gray, too, from the continuous melt and the silt. You really get a tangible feel for the impact of global warming here. For instance, a lake that you can boat on at the base of the glacier didn’t even exist 20 years ago. Also got some great views of Mt. Cook’s peak poking through the clouds. Views that were worth that soggy feeling, no doubt.

Flying Over Milford Sound

2008-01-31T01:54:00.000-05:00

One of the most regaled sights in New Zealand is Milford Sound. A remote fjord on the west coast of New Zealand’s South Island, it is located in Fjordlands National Park, part of a World Heritage Area that includes jagged peaks and glaciers that wind their way to the sea, with some of the world’s last standing temperate rainforest. It is truly wild country, and some of it is still unexplored by foot. It’s also huge – the World Heritage Area makes up 10% of the total land area of New Zealand.

Milford is tough to access due to the impassable mountains. It’s a 5-6 hour one way ride by car or bus. Once you’re there, weather permitting, you can take a boat to see the Sound from the water. The alternative is by plane from Queenstown – a short 40 minute flight by prop plane over the mountains. I opted for the plane. I’ve had an aversion to lengthy bus rides for 20 years, since a long coach trip in the U.K. in 1985 was punctuated by a wee English girl in the seat behind me playing with my hair and crying “but, Mummy, I have to go the loo!” every five minutes or so (must have been one of the rare English coaches in those days with no toilet in the back). The only potential drawback to the flight is the fickle weather. Unless the weather at Milford is clear – and that doesn’t happen with regularity, even in the summer – the plane can only fly over. No landing, and no boat ride through the fjord.

Well, this was one of those fickle weather days. It was fine for flying, but the weather at Milford Sound was expected to turn. As the agent at Milford Sound Scenic Flights told me, “we can get you in, but there’s a good chance we couldn’t get you out.” The option was to enjoy the flight over the Sound, without the boat ride.

That turned out to be just fine. Maybe even better – as we were told (perhaps somewhat self-servingly, but accurate nonetheless), what you see from the air is far more spectacular than the water level view, especially on a day like ours when there was a mix of some sun and cloud cover. It seems the clouds can shroud some of what makes Milford Sound so amazing when viewing from the boat, but you see it all and then some from the air.

I shared the flight with a Scottish farmer on vacation, traveling with his son and the son’s fiancée. They were good travel companions, even though the fiancée discovered that she was petrified of small planes mid-flight (there are probably permanent fingernail marks in the empty seat next to her). After trading stories of our mutual love for Edinburgh, we settled back and let the pilot guide us through some of the most wild, rugged, and amazingly beautiful mountain scenery I’ve ever encountered. You hear a lot about the raw natural beauty of this part of the world, and it’s entirely apparent from the air. En route to Milford Sound, we flew over immense waterfalls, valleys with seemingly untouched rivers and lakes (all the deepest blue), and rainforest. The peaks are awesome – jagged, snow capped, many with rock and ice fields from glaciers. We flew so close to the mountain tops that you felt you could almost reach out and grab a rock (not comforting for the Scottish fiancée, who at that point was staring intently at her white knuckles).

Milford Sound itself is spectacular. Sheer cliffs drop straight into the inlet, and waterfalls from mountain streams crash down their sides. The pilot then took us out over the Tasman Sea before banking for our return. Looking up and down the coast, you see waves crashing against rocky headlands, and beautiful deep green forests cascading down mountainsides to the sea. It’s stunning. You can really sense how untamed and untouched the land is here.

Though I would have liked the contrast of viewing it from ground level as well, I think I got the best view from up above. And all without risking six hours of a small voice behind me pleading for a trip to the loo.

Ice, Ice Baby

2008-01-30T01:18:00.000-05:00

Enjoy a nice, frosty cocktail on a hot summer night? If so, you’d like -5 here in Queenstown, NZ, one of 25 or so “ice bars” worldwide (we don’t have one in the U.S., but there’s an ice bar in the works for Vegas – where else?). Everything is made of ice – the bar, the “furniture”, the walls, even the glasses. As you can imagine, they have to keep the place pretty cold. The staff supplies you with a big coat and gloves, because -5 is actually as warm as it gets in the bar; the temperature varies between -5 and -10 celsius (an average day in say, Minneapolis, in January). You get a 30 minute stint in -5 for your entry fee. At first, I was very cavalier, taking my gloves off and finding it refreshing. After 15 minutes, the gloves were back on and comments from the others in the bar centered on “it’s really ___ing cold!” After 23 minutes, I was gone. But it was cool – ok, I know it’s a bad pun, but it was….

That’s just one of the myriad of things you can experience in Queenstown that you probably can’t do back home. It’s the Dude Capital of New Zealand, maybe the world. Queenstown feels like an X games that never ends (decide for yourself if that’s a dream or a nightmare). The extreme sports options, as well as things like – 5, are limitless. Yesterday, I tried my hand at riding a luge on top of a mountain (no injuries, no overt laughter from others directed toward me, and I’d do it again in a minute); today I just finished rafting a class IV river (very sore and tired, but it was fun!!) and rode a Jet Boat, which speeds you through river canyons at 50 mph. The spins are the best part. There’s also sky diving, paragliding, bungee jumping (cold day in hell comes to mind…), a canyon swing (see bungee jumping), and gobs of other activities designed by sick minds to test your physical limits and see if you can laugh in the face of your impending demise. My kind of place.

Queenstown’s visitors offer the ultimate travel dichotomy. On the one hand, you have the dudes. Twenty somethings, in fleece or Gore-Tex, with stubble (maybe even the girls), carefully planned bad hair, carrying some extreme sports implement, whether it’s a paddle, a pole, or a helmet – the goal would always seem to be avoiding one more catastrophic brain injury. On the other hand, you have the 60-something retiree and early retiree tourists, touring New Zealand, with large cameras, sun hats, and white/khaki/pastel colored clothes, hoping that their grandchildren aren’t trying to kill themselves in Queenstown.

Actually, the 60-somethings, and most other visitors who aren’t hurling themselves down a hill, are here for the scenery. It’s phenomenal. Beautiful mountains, crystal clear lakes and rivers, and views that could make you veer off the road (a new extreme sport?). The road from Queenstown to Glenorchy, where much of the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed, is considered one of the most beautiful drives in the world, and I’d say that whoever decides those things is right. Snowcapped jagged peaks descending to a 50K long perfectly blue glacial lake, dotted with islands, with lots of forest and green fields scattered about, and you get the picture. Once you get to Glenorchy, there are tons of hiking or (tame) rafting options to get you even closer to the wild country. Beyond Glenorchy, there’s even a gorgeous place aptly named Paradise, which pretty much sums up the whole region.

And when you’re done exploring, you can go back to Queenstown and jump off a cliff with an elastic cord tied around your ankle. Fun. Thanks, but I’ll take the cocktail on ice instead.

Best of Australia

2008-01-28T01:10:00.000-05:00

I’m off to New Zealand today. I love the anticipation of moving on to the next place when you travel. My first stop will be Queenstown, world capital of self-inflicted near death experiences like bungy jumping, skydiving, and white water rafting. I’m set for some jet boating and rafting on Wednesday, which should satiate the adrenalin junkie in me.

Though looking forward to NZ, I’m always a little bummed when leaving Australia (though I do have a night in Sydney in a couple of weeks before flying back to the States). It’s such a great country, and my favorite place to visit (as prior posts will tell you…). Reflecting on the last three weeks, I thought I’d compile a “best of” and “worst of” list for Australia, at least in this traveler’s opinion – apparently there’s a movie critic in me dying to get out. The “best of” list, by the way, is easier to put together than the “worst of’ list:

The Best of Australia:

1. Space. Whether you’re driving in the Outback and you pass another car only every hour or so, or you’ve found a perfect beach that you have all to yourself, the amount of elbow room in Australia generally blows Americans away. The lack of hoards leaves everything you discover feeling more pristine and perfect.

2. Friendly people. I live in Florida, where warm, bright and nice is a weather forecast, not a description of the local population. Everyone in Australia seems predisposed to nice. It’s a friendly, laid back culture. Whether it’s hotel or restaurant staff, a ticket taker on a tram, people you meet in a pub, or just someone who gives you directions on the street, the chances of getting a smile and a nice, brief chat are infinitely greater here than in the U.S.

3. Great food (except sausage rolls, see below). Australians know how to live right, and that’s most apparent in the really fantastic restaurants, fresh produce, and amazing wine found throughout the country. The cities all have world class restaurants and limitless cuisine options. The most fun part, though, is how the cultural emphasis on good food surfaces when you least expect it. At the Gecko Café at Uluru, for example, a quick lunch resulted in the consensus that we were served the best chicken Caesar salad we had ever tasted. You’ll come home a little heavier but a lot happier.

4. Beaches. As beautiful as you’ll see anywhere in the world. And often blissfully empty (see above).

5. The cities. Though they each have a unique character, Australian cities all seem vibrant, interesting, clean and safe when compared to their American counterparts. And Australians use their downtowns – everyone doesn’t flee to the suburbs after 5:00 pm and stay cocooned there over the weekend. CBD’s in all the cities are still centers for shopping, dining, culture and nightlife.

And Now for the Worst Things:

1. The Flies. They’re not shy. Rather, they’re relentless, and they like people (especially noses, ears, or any exposed orifice) in a big way. Unlike flies back home, the Australian variety hasn’t yet figured out that we’re not farm animals. Annoying is an understatement. A swat across the face to brush away flies is known as the “Aussie wave.”

2. Sausage Rolls. An old school, food-on-the-go snack in Australia that is ubiquitous yet best avoided, unless you want to play “guess the meat.” Always seems to be the last thing left when all other food items have sold out in the local bakery or convenience store, which tells you all that you need to know.

3. Jetstar Airlines. A low cost carrier owned by Qantas to compete with Australian low cost pioneer Virgin Blue. I’d never flown them on prior trips, so I thought I’d give it a go. After all, the airlines down here are generally great, so what could go wrong? Big mistake. Both flights were late, boarding was chaos, surly counter staff (Charmaine in Melbourne is a particular treat – avoid her like the plague), and they nickel and dime you to death with lower baggage weight restrictions than other airlines (they’ll even charge you if your carry on is over 7 lb) and on board food and beverage costs. Plus, their technology is a trip back in time to 1950 – they hand write receipts for those extra charges. Hard to believe they’re part of Qantas.

4. Sunburns. The sun in Australia is strong. When you’re enjoying those phenomenal clear blue skies, lather on the sun block. It takes about 15 minutes outside, without sunscreen, to get sunburned (even on a cloudy day).

5. Leaving – it’s a great country and the perfect trip abroad. All of the good stuff in Australia far outweighs anything else.

Tennis and Lizards

2008-01-25T18:17:00.000-05:00

We’ve had tickets to the semifinals of the Australian Open for months. Though not a big tennis fan, I love the Williams sisters. They’re fun to watch, they live near me in Florida (we had a ” Serena sighting” at the movies about a year ago), and they’re about the only thing going at the moment in American tennis. We thought it was a pretty safe bet that at least one would make it through to the semis – Serena won the whole thing last year. Worst case scenario was what we termed “ova and ova”; four of the seemingly interchangeable eastern European women who dominate women’s tennis these days. Absent Maria Sharapova, who stays busy selling millions of digital cameras and sports drinks to salivating American men, we didn’t follow tennis closely enough to get excited about a Slovene playing a Serb. The narrow American world view strikes again.

Well, as you may know, Serena and Venus got knocked out in the quarterfinals by two women from Serbia, so we had a day of former eastern bloc women’s tennis. We knew Sharapova, but the others (though highly ranked) were barely familiar to us casual tennis aficionados. The crowd favorite was a young woman named Ana Ivanovic. Though Serbian, she has some attenuated familial connection to Melbourne and has been writing a daily column in the local newspaper over the last two weeks about her experiences under the bright lights of Grand Slam tennis, so she was the adopted Aussie (she felt a little forced, though…after winning a crucial point, she yelled “c’mon!” and pumped her fist. Assuming Serbo-Croatian is her first language, “c’mon” popped into her head at a heated, emotional moment in the match? Or perhaps a bit of crowd manipulation?).

The tennis, frankly, was dull. The first match was no contest, and the first half of the Ivanovic match wasn’t competitive, either. Actually, despite the love of the crowd, our Ana was getting hammered by Daniela Hantuchova (our second “ova” of the day). The crowd was restless. A few people, seizing the moment, started yelling out “Go Ana!” It wasn’t long before many in the crowd realized that this was also the phonetic equivalent of Goanna, a common large lizard found in many parts of Australia (see photo). People starting chuckling and yelling “Goanna” through the crowd. It wasn’t long before someone yelled “banana.” Ana came back and won after losing the first set 6-0, by the way. No doubt her kinship with the lizard and the crowd helped her game. We met two women yesterday who claimed to have started the Goanna cheer and are planning to bring signs with enlarged photos of the lizard to the finals match today. Aussie humor. If we were at Wimbledon, we probably would have had to quietly suffer through two mediocre matches in relatively silence.

The men’s match that night was another story. Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, a relatively unknown French player, took apart world number two Rafael Nadal in straight sets. It looked like a star was born – his game was amazing. Even I was yelling “allez Tsonga!!” by the end.

All of this is happening in Melbourne, a great city by any standard. It often gets compared to Sydney, because they’re about the same size and have a bit of a rivalry going on. If there was an American equivalent, it would be Sydney’s L.A. to Melbourne’s San Francisco. I think Sydney is a better place to be a tourist – more touristy things to do, more familiar sights and Australian icons – but Melbourne is a much cooler place to hang out if you want a few days in the city.

Melbourne prides itself on being a little more refined culturally and gastronomically than Sydney – there is great art and theatre here, and fantastic restaurants – but it’s also edgier and more urban. It’s a really beautiful city, starting with the Yarra River, great parks and green spaces, and some of the most amazing architecture – inventive modern buildings seem to blend in gracefully with majestic old Victorian churches and museums. Melbourne’s real character, though, is in its neighborhoods – from the artist’s community in Fitzroy, to the market and hipster scene in Prahran, or St. Kilda, with a great beach and legendary nightlife for the young and pierced, to Toorak, with very posh cafes and toney shopping. If you want to snap photos of the Opera House as soon as you get off the plane, go to Sydney first. But don’t pass up Melbourne – it’s a fun, cosmopolitan take on Australia.

Beating the dead horse of our favorite Australian cultural icon once again, we saw “Priscilla – The Musical” on stage last night. It was loads of fun, and for inquiring minds who know the movie, they pulled off the ping pong ball scene brilliantly (Me Like!!). If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you’d better go rent the movie…

Spotlight on Kangaroos (and Koalas)

2008-01-22T02:36:00.000-05:00

Quite literally. The Hanson Bay Wildlife Sanctuary on Kangaroo Island is a 36 square km tract of land that is kept as a natural habitat for native Australian wildlife. Bruce and Lesley Jackson, the Sanctuary’s caretakers, manage the property, including the six guest beach cabins they rent on the beautiful Hanson’s Bay beach. More importantly to animal loving travelers like me, though, is their favorite job - overseeing the Sanctuary and its inhabitants – innumerable kangaroos, wallabies, bushtail possums, and a very lucky group of koalas.

Hailing from the Adelaide Hills, Bruce had a 17-year career in wildlife conservation before signing on at Hanson’s Bay. His extensive knowledge of and enthusiasm for the animals that live on Sanctuary land is infectious. He provides an interesting and valuable education about the local wildlife, including a primer on the importance of controlling invasive species (including humans) to preserve it.

We were fortunate enough to join Bruce on walking and driving tours of the Sanctuary at dusk. It’s vast; there’s customized fencing on the perimeters to protect the animals from introduced predators such as feral cats - hence the value of a sanctuary in the first place - but 99% of the time it feels like open bush.

The property was a sheep station before its current incarnation, and the Eucalyptus-draped former entry drive has been converted into a “Koala Walk”, where 15-20 koalas live, sleep and munch on their favorite leaves. A visit to the koalas would be attraction enough – it’s a non-threatening environment for the koalas, and we were able to get incredibly close to the animals, view adults and juveniles, and hear their very uncuddly call (cutest animal on earth, but that voice is horror movie stuff). But there’s much more to a walking tour of the Sanctuary. Once the sun set and the animals became more active, Bruce and Lesley walked us through a glade with loads of kangaroos, wallabies, possums, and other critters. I’m a big kid at heart when it comes to animals, and being this close was a real treat.

The real thrill, though, was the night drive through the Sanctuary. Most Australian animals are crepuscular (active at dawn and dusk) or nocturnal. They are elusive by day, but (at least on Kangaroo Island) everywhere at night. Bruce drove through fields and wooded areas with hundreds of kangaroos and wallabies. The sheer number of animals we saw by spotlight and moonlight was incredible (we had a full moon, by the way – the sky is so clear here that you can see craters). While a night drive through an African safari camp might produce a greater variety of animals, I’ve never seen the abundance of animal life that we did here.

There’s a popular “rural myth” about daytrippers to Kangaroo Island who board a tour bus as soon as the incoming ferry docks, drive to all the attractions, and board the ferry home before sunset without seeing a single kangaroo (or wallaby, koala, etc.) Hard to believe it happens, given the amount and diversity of wildlife on the island. But it would be real shame to visit this place without some time after the sun goes down to really see what the fuss is about. A night walk or drive with Bruce at Hanson Bay shouldn't be missed when visiting K.I.

Kangaroo Island

2008-01-21T02:51:00.000-05:00

I first visited Kangaroo Island, off the coast of South Australia, six years ago. Despite a name even Disney wouldn’t risk as sounding too touristy, I left sure it was my favorite place on earth. It was absolutely unspoiled, had native Australian wildlife everywhere, great hikes through native bush, and a spectacular coastline. And it seemed as though I was the only one in the world who knew about it. I could drive for miles or hike for hours and not see another soul. I even looked into the cost and legalities of buying property there (pretty prohibitive for a non-Australian).

Well, Thoreau was right about coming home again, but only to a point. There are definitely signs that the secret is starting to get out – you’ll find it now only a little less often than Uluru and the Great Barrier Reef in most American tour operators’ brochures, there are a few more gift shops and B&B’s, and some new tour buses on the roads (it’s a fairly easy daytrip from Adelaide).

Perhaps the most unfortunate change is the landscape, though. About 6 weeks ago, K.I. was hit by devastating bushfires - 20% of the island burned, including the most scenic bush on the west end of the island in Flinders Chase National Park, rendering it a charred moonscape. Though there are already signs of regeneration with green sprouting through the dead vegetation, it will take years to recover fully.

Despite the change, after being back a couple of days, it still tops my list of “best places on earth.”

Wildlife abounds. Everyone from America who visits Australia wants to see a kangaroo and a koala (and not solely during a visit to the zoo in Sydney). On Kangaroo Island, you’re tripping over native Australian animals. The island is an ideal spot for seeing wildlife for two primary reasons:

1. It’s virtually undeveloped. The fair amount of farmland you will see on the island actually gives the animals more area for grazing and habitat.
2. It’s an island. The British who colonized Australia, in their infinite wisdom, introduced invasive species such as foxes and rabbits, that multiplied rapidly and acted as predators and competitors to the native animals (and almost always came out on the winning end – tamar wallabies, common on K.I., are extinct in mainland South Australia thanks to the foxes). There are no foxes, and few other invasive species on Kangaroo Island. It’s always been sparsely populated by humans, too, allowing the animals to thrive.

The locals call it a “zoo without fences.” Even the recent fires haven’t rained on the parade. We’ve seen kangaroos, wallabies, koalas, echidnas, seals(more on that in a minute), possums and a tiger snake – super venomous and probably the one that I’d choose to leave off the list – in the last 24 hours. If you’re quiet and out around dusk, you’ll see everything.

Additionally, Kangaroo Island has one of the great unspoiled coastlines in the world. K.I. has imposing sea cliffs, beautiful white sand beaches, water in seemingly every shade of blue, waves crashing on rocky offshore islands, and one of the greatest “Stonehenge on steroids” natural rock formations anywhere (with the Southern Ocean as it’s backdrop) called – fittingly – the Remarkable Rocks. The island also has one of the largest concentrations of seals and sea lions anywhere. At Seal Bay, park rangers will even escort you to the beach and let you get within 10 meters of a sea lion colony – yesterday we walked past a sea lion pup nursing with its mother and loads of huge bulls and frolicking young ones. Here’s the real kicker – most of the time that you’re here you will feel like there’s no one else around to enjoy it. Development is almost nonexistent, and absent the occasional tour bus of daytrippers or the few summer cottages near beaches on the more populated end of the island, you’ll be the only one by the sea. It’s unbelievable. Imagine some of the more beautiful parts of the California coastline but far more spectacular, and with no development or tourists.

Despite the recent fires, there is still plenty of bush around for a good hike outside Flinders Chase (even at midday, you’ll likely see some kangaroos or wallabies in the shady parts). And if you’ve ever experienced the “nature with a rush hour” experience of Yosemite or Yellowstone, leaving you a big fan of zero population growth, Kangaroo Island is the elixir. We counted one stretch of 44 km where we didn’t see another car on the road. Even our small lodge – billed as a “Wilderness Retreat” (James and Helen, who run the K.I. Wilderness Retreat, have a wonderful small lodge and will give you a warm welcome) – has wallabies and possums that visit their courtyard each night. The place is magic. Though the secret is getting out – it’s clearly not the perfectly hidden Shangri-la it was just six years ago – it still represents the best of Australia. I’ll keep making the trip.

Tasting our Way Through the Adelaide Hills

2008-01-18T19:52:00.001-05:00

If you like wine – or beautiful places where wine is grown – then you’ve found the right country. Australia is known for its unique and beautiful wine growing regions. We toured one of the best yesterday near Adelaide. And after extensive tastings at six wineries (and a stop at a great local brewery owned by the friend of a friend), I still remember enough the day after to write about it.

The Adelaide Hills, Barossa Valley, and McLaren Vale are all gorgeous wine growing regions within an hour’s drive of Adelaide. Though they’re so close together geographically, the hilly terrain creates a number of microclimates that result in optimal conditions for very different types of grapes only miles apart. For instance, the Barossa is known for its great reds, like Shiraz, while the Adelaide Hills and McLaren are famous for their whites. But, upon sampling, you realize that it’s all good.

We hired a tour guide for the day through our hotel concierge. I’ve never been one for coach tours, but I definitely didn’t want to try my hand at driving the left side of the road on winding country lanes after trying my third Sauvignon Blanc. Our guide, Ralf, was a real find (see photo). His company, Life is a Cabernet (points just for the great name), specializes in putting together customized tours of Australia’s wine regions for individuals and small groups. While he is expanding his operations throughout Australia, Ralf lives in Adelaide and clearly has a soft spot for the nearby hills, valleys and vineyards. What a great day. Thanks to Ralf, I think we saw every breathtaking view in the Hills, and enjoyed some amazing wine. He knows everyone - we had a warm, familiar greeting at every winery where we stopped. Definitely wouldn’t have wanted to do it any other way.

The wine country in South Australia is stunning. Napa is probably the only American equivalent, but the countryside here is far more diverse and beautiful. One minute you’re driving through perfect vineyards, and then you’ll round a bend and be in a vale of Eucalyptus trees. It’s also far less crowded than California wine country – very little traffic, and when you get to the winery of your choice, there’s a good chance you’ll have the cellar door (the tasting room, in local parlance) to yourself.

The most amazing thing about the wine regions here, though, is the proximity to the city. We stayed mostly in the Adelaide Hills and McLaren Vale, and we were literally a half hour from the city center. The shift from urban to “picture postcard” rural happens quickly, especially if you’re used to the 2 hour drive to the California wine country from San Francisco. Adelaide itself is a charming, underrated city. Even most Australians, when told that you’re going to spend a few days in Adelaide, give you a funny look. What most apparently don’t know is that it’s a lovely city with broad avenues, great nineteenth century stone architecture, and some GREAT restaurants and nightspots. The range of ethnic restaurants in a city of this size is amazing. You also have great beaches and the aforementioned hills/wine country within 30 minutes of the CBD.

Here’s to hoping the secret doesn’t get out too much (as he raises a wine glass yet again…).

Outback...Way Outback

2008-01-16T01:10:00.000-05:00

Did the drive from Uluru to Alice Springs today - about 470 kilometers, with maybe 5 places to get gas, no towns, some cattle stations, and a few large lizards napping on the road who are lucky to be alive. Alice Springs is a wonder - it's the only real town for about 1000 miles in any direction. It took shape when there was enough transport between the top end of the continent and Adelaide, on the south coast, to warrant a midway point of some substance. It also went through some mineral booms. It currently thrives as the starting point for exploring the area known as the Red Centre (primarily because of the deep red color of the land here), which includes Uluru and many of the other natural attractions in the Outback, and is also a cultural center for the local aboriginal communities. For Priscilla fans, it's also the end point of the bus ride through the desert, where the gang performs to CeCe Penniston's "Finally." We're staying at the hotel next door, and plan to make a brief pilgrammage tonight.

I'd heard that the drive could render you catatonic, since the signs of human life are few and far between. I think that's why I loved it. There's nowhere in the U.S. now where you can feel that sort of space. And the landscapes alone are enough reason to make the drive. Though it's all desert, you go through rocky hills, glades of desert oaks, gum trees and mulga bushes near dry river beds, deep red sand dunes, and some positively lunar nothingness. If this were in the States, I'm sure Del Webb would have built several Sun City retirement communities, and there'd be lots of Wellness Spas. In other words, I savored the solitude.

And it's a pretty quirky drive. The few roadhouses (man-made oases every 100K or so to refuel, get a bite to eat, and generally revive) along the way are boiling over with character (my verb choice seems to be influenced by the heat). There's Stuart's Well, home of Dinky the Singing Dingo (see photo) and a small Emu farm; Curtin Springs, where a local aboriginal women's group fought successfully to have the government limit the sale of alcohol by the owner to local aboriginal males in an effort to curb drunk driving, and Erldunda, where in addition to a tasty lunch, you can purchase a giant stuffed toy wombat (everyone knows someone who's hard to shop for at holidaytime...).

We asked to see Dinky, but unfortunately he was on an outing with the owner when we visited. Perhaps you'll have more luck when you pass through.

Camel Riding at Uluru

2008-01-16T00:34:00.000-05:00

Want to REALLY feel like you're away from home? How about riding across red sand dunes on a camel to see the sun set over Uluru (Ayers Rock)? Not something I can replicate in my zip code.

Camels were imported to Australia about 150 years ago or so, as the only reliable means to transport goods and people across the vast expanses of desert. When roads and rail connected the northern and southern parts of the continent, the camels lost their jobs and most were released into the wild. Though not native to Australia, they were built for the rugged, arid terrain, and thrived. Now there are an estimated 1 million feral camels in the Australian Outback.

The ones we rode have been domesticated/trained to give rides to tourists like me who seek a "Lawrence of Arabia meets Crocodile Dundee" two hour adventure. And riding a camel is pretty pleasurable. I was surprised at the smooth ride, and the personality of the animals. Two cautionary notes, though, for anyone who wishes to follow in my camel tracks. First, contrary to popular perception, annoyed camels do not actually spit on you to show their displeasure. Rather, according to Rowan, our camel handler, they will full out vomit on you if perturbed with your behavior. So, if you want to avoid a Lady Macbeth-like 2-hour shower following your camel ride, endeavor to keep your camel engaged, comfortable, and happy. Second, when the camel handler instructs you to "lean back" when the camel kneels for your dismount, do so; otherwise, your penance for not listening will be abrasions in a very private area, as experienced by my camel riding partner.

Otherwise, it's a lot of fun, and you'll know you're far from home.

As for Uluru, this is my first trip here. Cynical me, I’ve passed over this famous spot on prior trips to Australia because I’ve had doubts about whether I’m the kind of guy who’d appreciate it enough for a visit. Of course, I’ve heard it’s stunning, that just looking at it as the light changes moment to moment is captivating, that for some it’s a deeply spiritual experience, and that Meryl Streep lost her movie baby to a Dingo here, but I also know that it’s the most visited landmark in Australia (not a good thing generally), to the point where prior visitors and guidebooks offer coaching on how to avoid busloads of tourists, that it can be really hot here in the summertime, and that, well…it’s a big rock.

After a couple days of exploring, though, I have to admit it is pretty amazing. Uluru is, in fact, a large rock – about 1000 feet high, with the vast majority of its bulk actually submerged underground – not a mountain. The surrounding terrain is fairly flat, with undulating red sand dunes and desert scrub (the color of the earth seems Mars-like). The unexpected, out-of-place appearance of this massive monolith is one of the more dramatic curves I’ve ever seen thrown by nature ( a bit like Devil’s Tower in Wyoming, though on a much grander scale). Uluru really does take your breath away – even for a cynic like me.

Two things that I didn’t expect but that enhanced the experience:

1. The closer you get to Uluru, the more you can see that weather and time have done a number on its face, creating loads of caves and gullies. It’s aged well – the lunar appearance just adds to the awe and mystery. This is particularly true on the side of Uluru that you aren’t supposed to photograph (it’s sacred to the local aboriginal community), with massive checkerboard patterns in the rock, huge overhangs, and craters. If you visit, make sure to drive or hike all the way around the rock. This is probably as close as you’ll come to feeling like you’ve made a lunar landing here on Earth.

2. Speaking of the aborigines, the Australian Park Service does a great job of integrating the spiritual, sacred significance that Uluru holds for the local Anangu people into the experience here – and it’s done in an intelligent, unobtrusive way. It’s also pretty amazing to take a 2 hour hike along the base of the Rock and come upon cave art that’s thousands of years old (there’s tons of this sort of thing here, which as a Discovery Channel fan and a long time subscriber to National Geographic, I love).

If climbing the rock holds appeal, you can do it, but the Anangu view it as akin to defiling their shrine – sort of a no-no if you have any respect for the locals – and, frankly, people die trying to do it on a fairly regular basis – it’s steep and slippery. Even the locals say it’s the hardest thing they’ve ever done. Finally, the Park won’t let you do it when it’s above 36 degrees Celsius - fairly common here in the summertime – which was my out.

As for the potential downsides (see crowds, heat, above) it’s still Australia, where the most visited place will feel blissfully serene by American standards. Granted, summer is their slow time and I did most of my touring in the afternoon – when those in the know said any large tour groups hovering in the area are typically at Kata Tjuta, another big, otherworldly, rocky local attraction – but it felt like I almost had the place to myself. On the aforementioned hike - to the base of the rock, past great aboriginal cave art en route to the only permanent waterhole at Uluru – I saw just two other people walking (and they were together). No lines, no crowds. Even the ranger at the park entrance was chatty – I think she may have been a little lonely…
It is hot – I’m here in the antipodean summer - but it’s like a hot day in Vegas or Phoenix. Bring water (lots of it), wear a hat, and you’ll be fine. Focus on the clear, deep blue sky and you’ll forget the heat (and the desert flies, which I think complete some sort of assertiveness training before being released into the wild here).

Seeing Sydney

2008-01-11T00:10:00.000-05:00

Sydney is gorgeous. If you're planning a visit here, you'll read all sorts of rapturous comments in guidebooks about how Sydney is set in one of the most beautiful locations in the world. It's all true. It's up there with San Francisco, Cape Town, Vancouver, etc. as being in one of the most spectacular settings on the planet. Everywhere you look, there's water. Between Sydney Harbor, Darling Harbor and the Beaches, Sydney is the ultimate city by the sea. From the spectacular Heads which are the gate to the open Ocean, Sydney Harbor has innumerable coves, small beaches, and parklands that make it one of the most lovely places where land meets water. The Sydneysiders deserve credit for the city's beauty, too - they planned it right. The most famous landmarks, beautiful residential neighborhoods, and even the Zoo accentuate the dramatic landscape and beautiful harbor.

So what are the best places to take all of this in? In my opinion, the following are the 5 best spots to take in a great view and soak up Sydney:

1. The Ferry to Manly (or any Sydney Ferry). The Sydney ferries are legendary. Not only are they one of the primary ways to move around this vast city, they are also one of the least expensive harbor cruises you're ever likely to take. The ferry to Manly is a 30-minute ride to one of Sydney's beach suburbs. Manly is a great beach town with a laid back surfer's vibe. You feel far removed from the hustle of the city. Along the way, you'll cruise past the Opera House, the Harbor Bridge, the skyline, and many harborside neighborhoods and patches of parkland. Sydney needs to be seen from the water, and this is the best (and least expensive) way to do it.

2. The Club Lounge at the Intercontinental Hotel. The crown jewel of this great hotel is it's rooftop Club Level lounge, with amazing views of the city, bridge, Opera House, Botanical Gardens, and Harbor all the way to the Ocean. The jaw dropper is it's deck - sit outside, have a cocktail, and take in one of the most incredible views in the world. If you stay here, you'd be missing out if you didn't get Club Level access.

3. Altitude Restaurant at the Shangri-La Hotel. See "Club Lounge at the Intercontinental", above. The Intercontinental ranks a notch higher because of it's tremendous rooftop deck.

4. Bondi to Bronte Beachwalk. While you won't see the usual Sydney sights, this very unique 3K footpath between two of Sydney's more famous beaches provides stunning views of the Ocean from beach to bluff, and passes some beautiful beaches and seaside homes you'd be very happy to call your own. A very enjoyable reminder that Sydney is a big beach town at heart.

5. AMP Tower. This is the big "Space Needle" type structure often seen in pictures of the Skyline. It's the tallest building in Sydney, and it would rank higher if it didn't feel like to trip up to the Observation Deck of the Empire State Building - a bit touristy and crowded. Still, the 360 views of Sydney are hard to beat.

Honorable mention goes to the Harbor Bridge Climb (great views and a real adventure, but no cameras and anyone with even a mild fear of heights will be paying attention to the climb, not the views) and the walk down to the ferry wharf from Taronga Zoo (an almost jungly walk - thick bush and the sounds of animals - with some great views of the Sydney skyline across the harbor).

Oh, and I just received a call from the luggage people. They actually found my bag here on day 3; it's being delivered tonight. So I can stop my newfound daily ritual of buying a new pair of underwear and a shirt that doesn't quite fit. Life is good.

Finding Lemonade Amongst the Lemons - A Tale of Lost Luggage

2008-01-09T09:44:00.000-05:00

It's now 2:00 am, Sydney time on my first day back in Oz. After a valiant attempt to stay out and awake to get on the local clock, I almost fell asleep in my pumpkin risotto at dinner and decided to call it an early night. Of course, now my tired body tells me unwittingly that it's 10:00 in the morning. Always takes a day or two to adjust.

My first trip here on an airline other than Qantas (big fan...they have a great business class...but had miles to burn on another carrier) ended with a groan when I found that either USAirways (domestic) or United (SFO to Sydney) had lost my luggage. I was not alone. United had two flights arriving from the States at about the same time, and after catatonically staring at the carousel for about 45 minutes with no luck, I headed for the lost luggage office. The scene was enough for this non-Catholic to conjure purgatory - a line 40 or 50 people deep wondering where their bags were, too. United outsources their baggage recovery here to a company called Menzies - and they were clearly feeling just as overwhelmed as we were. My quality time with their representative included the discovery that, though United and USAirways code share, they don't use the same univeral baggage tracking system - so no record of my bag in the United system, and no code to check on the status online with USAirways - along with the confidence boosting parting comment "probably you'll have it tomorrow or the next day, hopefully."

After doing the mental inventory of what I'll need to buy to make it through the next 2 days to 5 weeks (worst case scenario), and wishing for a miraculous recovery for our poor dollar (it could be a lean Christmas this year if that bag doesn't show up, folks), I realized that I now have a legit excuse to go shopping - always a tonic for me.

In some ways, it wasn't such a bad thing to happen on my first day here in about a year. Perhaps the one thing that I love most about Australia is the good nature of the Australian people - they're the best. Collectively, they have a warmth and friendliness that we seem to be losing in the States. Granted, I played up the "Oh woe is me...I just arrived and the airline lost my luggage" angle (I'm not stoic in the face of strife - I do the same thing when I have a cold...I want the world to give me a kiss on the forehead, two aspirin, and a glass of orange juice), but the Aussies didn't let me down. From the chemist (drug store), where the manager stopped taking inventory and helped me pick the right kinds of shaving cream and dental floss, to the sales clerk who offered to give me samples of hair product so I wouldn't have to buy it, on to the sales clerk at Rodd & Gunn clothing shop at the QVB (great shopping in Sydney in a beautiful old Victorian building - worth a look) who, though closing for the evening, upon hearing my sob story said "well come in and lets get you some clothes, then", I got a big helping on day one of why I keep coming back - you'd be hard pressed to find better people anywhere. Everyone went out of their way to help me recoup some clean clothes and tools for basic hygiene. And they still like Americans (even ones who whine about their lost bags...). The people here always leave you wanting more Australia.

Well, if I'd had a couple of pints after dinner, I'd probably be catching my "Z's" now. Hopefully, visions of a big blue bag flying over the Pacific at the moment (or tomorrow, or the next day, hopefully...) will lull me back to sleep...

Travels Down Under

2008-01-07T09:35:00.000-05:00

Welcome to a blog detailing my travel experiences in Australia and New Zealand in January and February, 2008. Having traveled all over the world, including 4 prior trips Down Under, I'm writing to share my experiences and hopefully offer some insight for those of you thinking about traveling to this wonderful part of the world. I'll be there for 5 weeks, leaving the States today.

I recently started a travel agency/travel planning business for North Americans who wish to travel to Australia, New Zealand and the South Pacific called Peak Travel Partners. I'd be happy to answer any questions or provide assistance via email as well - you can reach me at rhill@downunderguru.com.

I'll post details and pictures along the way. Hope you enjoy!!