Posts about Australia
To Tasmanian Devils and Beyond
I learned a lot from Looney Tunes as a kid. For instance, if you accidentally fall off a cliff, you will just turn into a cloud at the bottom and then magically reappear in a few minutes. Or if you are a Tasmanian devil, you are about 6 ft. 3 and will violently spin around and destroy things.
Ever since I laid eyes on such a crazy cartoon character, I have always wondered what other mysteries that a place like Tasmania, with all its devils, could hold.
Although my time on this Australian island proved both of my Looney Tunes life lessons quite wrong, Casey and I discovered the adventure that awaits you around every corner of this exotic territory.
As we walked the colorful alley ways of the Saturday morning Salamanca Street market and inhaled the crisp 13 degree air, we sensed there was indeed a different spirit about this place. Something undiscovered and untamed lingered around us. Perhaps we were already psyching ourselves up for the ghost tour we had later, but whatever it was, the feel of adventure was unmistakable, and we were ready to explore.
After mountain biking down Mt. Wellington and feeling confident that my fingers, nose, and toes were absolutely going to fall off from the biting cold, we celebrated our survival by heading to a nightly safari at Bonarong Wildlife Sanctuary. It is here where Casey and I were properly introduced to the infamous Tassie Devil.
Was it 6 ft. 3 and twirled around like a tornado? I don’t think so. Casey resembled the cartoon character more than these guys did.
No, these animals were more of a muscular black cat with some rat-like facial features. However, their meow was something straight out of a Hitchcock film. Think screaming banshee plus growling demon.
Before we know it, our guide throws us each a huge leg of raw wallabee meat, and we are to hold it over the pit of these ferocious animals. Rupert, my favorite devil, latched on to the end of the leg, and we had ourselves a good ole fashion game of tug-o-war. I lifted the leg up in the air, and rupert held onto the other end solely with his strong bite. Shockingly enough, the devil won fair and square.
The next day, we embarked on a rather treacherous 4 hour hike up Mt. Amos. As I climbed up the 89.5 degree angle rock face, I thought to myself, “I wonder if I fell all the way down this thing, if I really would turn into a cloud at the bottom?” Gravity did not feel so gentle as I slid down over 4 times due to lack of proper treading and got a nice blue and purple bruise on my thigh to prove it. However, the view at the top was breathtakingly beautiful, and we even spotted a baby whale in Wine Glass Bay.
At the end of the day, we could not deny that Tasmania is a force to be reckoned with. From the Tassie devils and beyond, this island exudes adventure!
Puff, the Melbourne Dragon
Apparently fire-breathing dragons still do exist. And we found 5 of them in downtown Melbourne.
Casey and I managed to snag a behind-the-scenes tour of this city in Oz thanks to the amazing hospitality of the STA Australia staff. These guys are incredible. If you are ever in Melbourne, call them up because they know their stuff.
After enjoying the posh seating areas, colorful mood lighting, and (my favorite) powerful outdoor heaters on the best rooftop bar in Melbourne, Brendan McGrath escorted us to his blue sports car our tour commenced.
1st stop – Hosier Lane. It is here where we beheld a collection of the funkiest graffiti murals in all of Melbourne. Artists have been painting in this area for years, creating the most unique displays of spray paint; even the dumpsters and bins were covered with amazing scenes of color.
2nd stop – Federation Square. This central building of crazy, modern architectural design looked similar to a massive igloo with its glass cubes stacked on top of each other. As you walk through the ice cube entrance, you will see that this is the city’s hub for shopping, eating, and cultural exchange. The outside boasts an enormous amphitheater for Melbourne to gather and watch movies or see concerts. When you look up, you won’t believe your eyes… and may need to whip out some sunglasses. Why? Because an enormous, glowing sphere has been suspended in mid-air to represent the sun. Yes, that’s right. Melbourne, owns the second sun. There are even lounge chairs for the public to lay on and catch a few rays.
3rd stop – Puff, the Melbourne Dragon fire show. Ok now I can explain the dragons. As Brendan whirls his speed racer car into a makeshift parking spot on top of the central bridge, we hop out having no idea what to expect. The sight of the city at night over the river alone was breathtaking.
Then we hear it. The hissing sound of the dragons warming up their throats AKA the $35,000 worth of gas needed to produce this nightly spectacle. As the clock rapidly approaches midnight, Brendan sprints with us over to the left side of the bridge to get the best seats. As the clock strikes twelve, the first pillar alights with flame and the dancing fire begins. After a few minutes of the overwhelming orange, the five pillars burst with a fierce ball of fire. And these are great balls of fire indeed.
Moral of the story: Travel to Melbourne and have your faith in dragons restored.
Miracle on Bondi Beach
What do you get when you mix an American Southerner with 13 degree Celsius surfing weather? Total fear.
I thought I was fearless, but today I realized how much of an enemy I have in cold weather as I bundled up with my hat, scarf and gloves on the way to our surfing lesson. You tell me what’s wrong with this picture. I could feel the 
hypothermia entering my body as Casey and I ducked into the cab headed for Bondi.
9:30 in the morning. Wind blowing. Rain drizzling. Temperature dropping. Sounds like an ideal day to try surfing for the first time ever, right?
As the taxi neared the beach, we stared at the rain on the frosty window laughing in disbelief that we were about to surf in an Aussie winter.
When we stepped into the “Let’s Go Surfing” shop, I felt an immediate wave of relief. Wet suits. This was going to be the one item that stood between me and cold-induced cardiac arrest.
Tonya, our attractive surf instructor, eased us into the process. Her enthusiasm for this sport she has been mastering for over 30 years was contagious. I didn’t have time to think about how cold I was because I just followed her every move. From yoga stretches to board positions to reading the waves to paddle strokes, she made sure we had it all down in the sand before we ventured into the water. Stay on the beach as long as you want, Tonya… I am in no hurry to submerge myself into ice water. I’ve seen Titanic. The ending is not pretty.
But alas, the time came for me to face my fears. Casey and I both looked up in the sky before heading in, and there, before us, was a massive rainbow from one end of the horizon to the other. That had to be a good sign; that neither of us would get eaten by a shark or experience death-by-surfing.
As I waded knee-deep into the ocean, I literally could not believe my senses.
The water was warm(ish)! I thought this must be adrenaline talking because there is no way this can be real!? It was a Bondi miracle. The water had not completely dropped to its winter temperatures yet. We had timed it just right because the cold front was coming in a week!
I was so elated by the warm water that the fact that I never completely got up on the surf board didn’t phase me!
Note to self: Always trust a rainbow at Bondi Beach.
Marathon Traveling
37 hours en route to Australia… and that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I call “Marathon Traveling.”
Our adventure included everything from riding in Brazilian taxi shuttles that look like squashed Land Rovers,
to passenger drop-off areas at airports,
to chugging bottled water before going through security lines,
to being patted down by a-bit-too-friendly female security guards,
to power walking on moving sidewalks and feeling the superhuman need for speed,
to gates and terminals,
to duty-free shopping (both Casey and myself in need of some duty-free Febreeze),
to planes,
to surprisingly delicious plane food,
to perusing the new movie releases on the screen in front of us,
to testing out the complimentary eye mask and ear plugs,
to sleeping with our mouths shamelessly hanging open losing the battle to gravity,
to more airports,
to middle of the night lay overs,
to metal benches-turned-beds,
to multiple breakfasts as we tested out the best coffee/ danish combos that Buenos Aires offered,
to the endless search for power outlets to charge computers,
to more terminals and gates,
to more planes,
to drifting in and out of sleep consciousness,
to more delicious plane food almost every two hours (like we are talking apple pie crumble and chocolate ice cream bars here… yes),
to jolting awake as the plane hit the ground in Sydney at 4am Buenos Aires time,
to waiting for our hostel shuttle to pick us up as we wearily sat on top of our luggage in the Sydney airport letting delirium set in,
to FINALLY arriving at the vibrant Westend Nomads Backpackers hostel in downtown Sydney,
where we ended our 37th hour of travel by collapsing onto bunk beds at 8:30pm Australian time.
We are officially down under.
That’s a Big Ol’ Island
Chris said it right. Our descent into Sydney revealed a coastline that seemingly never ended.
Looking at our itinerary, we knew we were heading for an ultra-modern, powerhouse of a hostel for the evening. Wake Up Sydney wins international hostel awards and being two travelers who love to find the hidden gems and steer clear of the easy path, we were very skeptical we’d enjoy this stopover.
But when Christian, the general manager, awaited our arrival out of customs, we got the pleasant surprise of seeing the personable side of the institution. He dropped our things at the hostel after hooking us up with all the amenities and took us for a drive around a very wet coastal city.
Chris instantly fell in love with the place, which called to mind his home in the Bay Area. I was just plain blown away by the sheer size and expanse of the harbor, surrounding houses, buildings; it was all so cosmopolitan…and huge!
“There’s where Russell Crowe lives, up on that entire top floor.”
“Here’s the best view in town of Harbor Bridge and the Opera House.”
“This is where the massive New Year’s Eve celebration occurs every year. The place is absolutely packed and rowdy. We’re already booked up for the holidays!”
It probably didn’t make it easier coming from a remote Fijian village, but I was more in culture shock of Sydney than of little old Nakavika.
Christian offered to take us out for drinks that night and give us the opportunity to see the Opera House become alit by an evening light show, and it was our best intention to make that happen. But, a lack of sleep, a pile-up of work, and a need to shop and eat stopped us from doing Sydney right.
We’re both determined to return; needn’t we worry. And neither should you.
Morning Ponderings at Kata Tjuta
My favorite time of day is without a doubt the pre-dawn hour. Observing a blackened sky that slowly rotates toward the sun gives me the feeling that I can watch the Earth move. And the colors of light in the pure atmosphere, refracting off lush mist, bring to mind Monet paintings, along with others who understood the power and beauty of the pastel.
Unfortunately, my body finds the early morning repulsive and demands rest when the world is waking. However, give this lifeless corpse of mine an activity amidst natural wonder, and I become alive with the spirit of the dawn.
My feet scrambled up the rocky paths to Kata Tjuta. The sun’s first peek set the massive rocks on fire. This was my time of day, my type of setting, and my ideal way to spend my hours on this Earth: hiking among natural wonders.
A short geological explanation (the details of which I can’t seem to recall, sadly) of why these 36 rock domes occur in the middle of a flat desert plain made me briefly contemplate the ground I stand on. How can the World be so old that over the course of its existence, all this land we see was underwater, slathered and molded by the tides, squeezed and pushed by other tectonic plates, and still continues to move and shift before our very eyes (ever-so slowly, of course)? We gotta stop complaining about being too old to stay up late or remember what we did yesterday. We’re babies on this planet, babies I tell ya!
And so, as we wandered in between these massive monoliths, the breeze whistling through each hump and affirming the name Valley of the Winds, I gazed as the rising winter sun of the Australian Outback, looking through layers of atmosphere, mist, and space. Along with my extreme awareness of each [potentially] ankle-rolling step, I felt incredibly connected to the home planet. And with our sighting of a wild camel pack moments later, I felt even more like a primordial animal wandering for purpose and necessities across the crust.
The Outback: it’s trippy.
Oz is Hardcore
Even though I’ve hiked through Yeti country and bush camped in East Africa among wild buffalo and hyenas, never have I been so afraid to walk around a country as I was when I got to Australia. This place could hard core kill ya.
What a statement to encourage tourism in Oz!
But really, I say this because of the research I did on this country/continent. Bill Bryson, in his book In A Sunburned Country, mentions that the top ten most venomous, dangerous, poisonous creatures on the planet all live on, or in the waters surrounding, this massive island. If the crocs in the mangroves don’t snatch you off the pier, then maybe the box jellyfish will whip you with the world’s deadliest sting while swimming at the reef. Or maybe you could just be that unfortunate one that sits down on a toilet seat where a poisonous spider has made its home.
Gives ya the heebie jeebies, huh?
The reality, as it is in most countries, is that you’re more likely to simply get hit by a car crossing the street than you are to encounter the trigger-happy animal kingdom. But the fact that Australia has such hard core creatures (and terrain!) has certainly altered their mentalities.
Australians live fast. They live like they’re still young. They travel. They do ballsy things. They seize life by the huevos and cheers to it with their incredible beer drinking abilities. They’re fun-loving, adventure seeking people who know that nature and fate have the ability to take what’s theirs at any time, making them the kind of people that live enviable lives.
Oz is where the young and young at heart can write their big life stories. I’ll take a page from their book and work my youth like it’s my job…which it is, right? 
Hiking Ayers Rock
I made it about halfway up Uluru, aka Ayers Rock, when I stopped, had a drink of water, and sat down on the steep rock.
For the really steep bits there’s a chain you can hold onto and white stripes mark the “path.” I like to climb things as much as the next guy, but I’m no rock climber. I looked up. The lonely chain slumped against the red rock as it led up to the uninterrupted blue sky. I was already pretty high up. Good solid exercise, certainly good enough for one day, I thought.
“Ay, g’day” A 70-ish guy said as he hiked right by me. He muttered “pansy” as he passed. I was half-way around the world, sitting on one of the world’s most famous natural formations and some Australian geriatric was calling me out. I wasn’t having it.
I hiked on and caught up with him at the next false-peak. He glanced at me and brushed aside his sweaty white hair, “American?” “Yeah” What’s it to you, gramps? “I’m from New Zealand. Thought I was gunna have to hike her meself. My name’s Greg.”
“Chris.”
That’s how I met Greg, halfway up Ayer’s Rock.
We hiked up together. Greg was some sort of ninja Kiwi, jumping up the rock, smiling the whole time. We made it to the top, took pictures of each other at the little marker and explored the peak. I asked him what brought him here.
“I hiked this when I was twenty.”
“And you wanted to try to do it again?”
“Ay, I don’t believe in ‘once-in-a-life-time’ experiences, I always wanted to do it again. That and me wife said I couldn’t.”
I like Greg. He’s traveling around with the “old lady” now, redoing all the things that sparked a love for traveling in him when he was young.
“I’m just travelin’, y’know, knockin’ the buggahs off one by one again.”
Rock on, Greg, you old Kiwi ninja.
Dancing With Ayers Rock
After coming off a trip all about connections with people, I will admit I found it hard to enthusiastically jump on board a tour of rocks.
What used to be one of the most remote locations on planet Earth, Alice Springs in Australia, was an easy plane ride for us into the dry interior. And the luxury overland vehicle we traveled in took every harsh aspect of the impossible terrain out of our minds. It was understandably easy to – at first – under-appreciate the wonders and experiences that were soon to be ours.
Australia’s Outback is probably the hardest place for anyone or anything to survive, and to completely comprehend the age of this place is virtually impossible for the human mind. You know Pangaea? Yeah, this place is older than our former single continent. And to realize how small and insignificant your presence at these multi-million-year-old natural wonders is could surely cause some severe existential issues.
Humbling. But that’s not why I like coming to these places.
When it comes to connecting with a location – an environment – something inanimate, here’s what I do: I coexist with it. I make an experience never able to be recreated, invite that thing into the moment with myself.
Does it sound like I’m talking a lotta crap? Ney.
At Ayers Rock, I decided to wander her periphery and experience the awe and grandeur from below. I popped in my earbuds and started dancing around the place like no one could see me. Every new song brought me to a new part of the rock that looked dramatically different than the last and I snapped my shutter like a photo-crazed fool. What resulted was an experience no one else was having.
For that one moment in her long, LONG life, Ayer’s Rock and I were dancing partners.
