Winos

We've recently worked our way back to Sydney from South Australia. We stayed in Victor Harbor, Adelaide and the Barossa Valley. The Barossa area is well known for wine and widely considered to be the premier producer of Shiraz in Australia, if not the world. Ed and I love wine and have, on several occasions, planned trips around visiting wineries and tasting rooms both in the States and afar. We were psyched.

The Barossa lived up to the hype. There is a huge variety of wine produced throughout the region. The folks serving, particularly at the smaller wineries were awesome. The only assholes we ran across were at Peter Lehmann, a major player in the region. That is, the only assholes behind the bar.

By far the most painful folks we ran across while in the Barossa were North Americans. At Torbreck (amazing, if pricey, reds) a couple from Montana were tasting next to us. The dude owned a Vitamin company and was so obnoxious (in anticipation of a glass he'd had before, he said, out loud “this will be like an old friend”) that I was embarrassed for the cellar door worker who had to indulge him.

At Taste of Eden, a gorgeous tasting room for several of the micro-vintners who don't produce enough to have their own room, we were served wine by a gorgeous and fun former ballerina. We so enjoyed talking with her about the wine, and life, and her dog Max, that we were there for almost 2 hours. That is until the most obnoxious Canadian woman (I know, suprising!) showed up. As the husband sweetly tried to chat Ed and I up about New York and our trip, his wife barked “are we tasting or are we just going to talk?” about every 30 seconds. We quickly cut the convo short, said our good byes, and bolted.

In Australia, wine people aren't necessarily wine snobs. A lot of the cellar doors don't have distribution in restaurants or bottle shops, so folks come to taste and to shop. Most of the people working in the tasting rooms seem to love drinking wine more than talking about it, and very few people spit. This is a swallowing country, where its okay to get a little pissed on a bottle. The winemakers consider themselves farmers and the whole vibe is a super laid back rural feeling.

It was disappointing to witness our fellow countrymen taking pains to demonstrate their knowledge of wine to Aussies who really just wanted to pour it and sell it.  Note to visiting Americans: use your grape holes wisely - more drinky, less talky.  Alright?

Australia Hotness on the Internets

As we'll soon be leaving the land down under, I wanted to pass along my hott tips on travel websites for anyone who might travel to this part of the earth.

Hotel Accommodation
wotif.com
lastminute.com.au
roamfree.com
hostelworld.com

Apartment Rentals
airbnb.com - this is where we met our new loveliest friends Ruth & Loren who we stayed with and subsequently missed terribly.  It combines vacation rental with social networking - genius

Car Rentals
discoverycarhire.com.au


Sydney Transportation App for iPhone
tripview.com

Airfare Compare
webjet.com.au

Also, don't be afraid of Vegemite.  Its salty and delicious when taken in small doses.

RBT

Scare tactics are big in Australia. Popular reality TV shows include Bondi Beach Rescue, which follows lifeguards as they pull the nearly lifeless from the surf, RBT (Random Breath Test), which follows cops at a drunk driving check point breathalizing and drug testing drivers, and Border Patrol, where the viewer gets to watch airport interrogations by customs officers. Government sponsored cautionary commercials tend toward the visceral; a smoker coughing in various scenarios until he hacks up blood and is diagnosed with lung cancer; a prisoner in a jumpsuit behind a glass panel inviting viewers to put their hand on the TV screen to experience the closest they'll get to friends and family if convicted of drug-driving (that's a thing); a children's birthday party where Nicky is noticed missing while the candles are being blown out only to find him drowned in the family pool. And, perhaps most randomly, a lengthy illustrated explanation of how, and how not, to store home-use petrol tanks.

The message here is, if you fuck up, we will most definitely catch you. Which is weird, because I've seen virtually no cops on patrol, especially in the smaller cities and towns we've visited. I sort of guessed the hyperbole was pro-active advertising, until we were cruising out of the Grapians National Park after a hot and vertical 10K hike, only to be pulled over. I knew I wasn't speeding (we've already learned our lesson on that front) and was amused and delighted when asked to blow into a tube! I think the officer knew by my hiking gear and sweat crystals that I hadn't been boozing, and I was somewhat disappointed that the whole interaction lasted less than 30 seconds. I just thought we were going to bro, like he'd congratulate me on my choice of vitamin water over wine or at least offer a fist bump?  He just mumbled G'day and off we went.  Mere minutes later we were checked in to the next motel, car parked, and cracking open a bottle of Tasmanian Rose.

Tasman Island Cruises

I've started to “like” pages on Facebook. This is new for moi, as I've really only been a passive FB user in past and never understood the point of liking until this trip, when our podcast lifelines pointed us to their tweets and FB posts. Now having liked a scant few podcasts, bands, and personalities, I get it: they tell me what's going on, so I don't have to remember to check in on what's going on. Genius!

Just yesterday, I “liked” the Tasman Island Cruise page. Not because I need to receive updates about what's happening on the east coast of Tasmania, but because I want to give them due PR. 

During our time in OZ, people have hammered home a ton of “MUST DOS” - a helicopter ride above Cradle Mountain, harness climbing the Sydney Bridge, ferrying to the Kangaroo Island, I could go on... This is one of the few tourist offerings that we've taken up. And it was worth every penny.

Ed and I were last to board the 40 ft, super maneuverable boat with rubber bumpers because we were, as usual, peeing it forward. As a result, we ended up in the front two seats; the otherwise tough Aussies didn't want to be dampened by sea spray.  Bundled and poncho'd, we were thrilled to be crammed right up front. No heads in Ed's picture, no voices in our ears.

The boat went crazy fast, and soon we were pulling into the rock caves we had glimpsed from above. Each time the skipper steered toward a white water filled hole in the 10 story high rock cliff, my heart pounded. My brain was screaming - “don't go in there” and then, immediately, “go in there."  What came out of my mouth was “WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

We reached Tasman Island to see hundreds of fur seals draped across the rocks and dozens more playing in the water alongside the boat. An albatross with a 6 foot wing span flew past us, and the whole group went nuts.

Our adorable co-captains looked like surfer/models and happily talked about the birds, phyto plankton, and currents throughout the ride. They also handed out Timtams and high fives at the end of the tour. Not one of us disembarked without a smile on our face. Happy as the seals.

We climbed up shit

Hiking is one of the only "sports" that Ed and I truly enjoy.  We don't do it for health reasons, its not self flagellation, we just dig it.  And Australia's National Parks are top notch in every way.  Weather permitting, we've hiked the shit out of this country.  And so, a brief summary with some lovely images from 'uardo.

 From Brigg's Bluff, Grampians National Park, Victoria.  It was insanely hot this day, and the hike was a bitch.  But, the picnic at the top was rad.

Mt. Wellington, Tasmania.  There were parts of this terrain that looked like other planets.  When the fog rolls in, one can only see a few feet ahead.  Great location for a horror flick, me thinks.

South Cape Bay, Tasmania.  These wooden planks lead through swampy grasslands, rainforest, and eucalyptus stands.  Magic.

The end of the South Cape Bay walk was here, at the Southernmost tip of Australia.  Last stop before Antarctica, which was fairly evident by the freezing winds.

Boronia Peak, also in the Grampians.  We were hungover this day after an insanely amazing meal and evening at the Royal Mail in Dunkeld.  Since we don't have DVR, we had to walk it off.

 We spent 3 days hiking our arses off in Cradle Mountain National Park.  2 days it sleeted, but on the final day it was perfecto and we hiked up the big stuff. 

 I do not look down.

 Cradle Mountain was not without challenges.  Or wombats.  My heart nearly exploded from cuteness.

 

M-O-N-A, MONA

On a rainy day in Tassie (as its abbreviated round these parts), we ventured to the newly opened and slightly misguided Museum of Old and New Art in Berriedale. I'd read a feature story about the iPod touches provided for navigating the space being stripped of their security chips and ripped off by the dozen, so I was intrigued.

The MONA hasn't yet figured out what it wants to be. The extensive art collection sings back up for the on site winery, high end accommodation, brewery and collection of serviceable, if pretentious, dining establishments. The buildings themselves are modern and stark and quite a contrast to the rolling hills of farmland that surround.

One can opt to take a ferry to the MONA directly from Hobart, but we drove. Like an unpopular kid who doesn't expect guests at his party, the MONA is completely under-prepared for the number of visitors taking it up on its free admission. The parking lot was too small by a hundred spots, thus the surrounding grounds had been turned into a mud pit. The museum cafe cranked out food far faster than ample seating became available for the diners. Some of the exhibits themselves felt more like an elbow to elbow opening in Chelsea than like a fine art museum.

The reason I thought the MONA was blog worthy, though, was nothing to do with any of that. What's interesting is the founder's attempts to weave high techery and self mockery right into the experience. The author tags, work titles and descriptions can only be viewed by updating one's location on the iPod and choosing the piece from a thumbnail. Once there, a couple of other tabs become available; one titled “Art Wonk” that has a quote from the artist, a snoozy interview, or a theoretically charming anecdote about the acquisition of the piece. The other tab is titled “gonzo.” I'll let that one be.

The museum seems like the aspirational collection of one dude that needed storage. And this dude's tastes run to boobies, poops, humping, and dead stuff. There is an entire floor off limits to kids or requiring parental supervision. And while I'm not bothered by the inclusion of menstrual blood in art, it does seem like well trampled ground. Perhaps in Tasmania, where the small city art scene is still fetal, shock and awe is new.  Funnily, whether because of discomfort with the subject matter or just excitement about about the handy device they'd been leant, the majority of patrons seemed far more engaged by the iPods than by the cocks and balls and slashery on display. 

While Ed and I found the need to hold a device a distraction from enjoying the exhibits, the masses seemed to love it. We talked for a while afterwards about how technology could be employed to enhance the work rather than steal from it. We didn't arrive at a solution, but it was fun to test drive one art wonk's hypothesis, if only to decide that it failed. Perhaps its an Australian thing. 

One metal poop, smiling.  By Nell

travelin reading list, part VI

I haven't been as bookishly active in Australia because we move around all the time, wine tasting is a primary activity and, get this, check out is at 10.  AM.  As Marc Maron would say, WTF? When you think about the fact that check in time is 2 or 3 p.m. and that we're booted so ungenerously early, we are basically homeless 5+ hours each day.  Heartbreaking, non? For this reason, hot travel tip #12 (arbitrary number applies) is this: if you plan to stay somewhere nice, always stay for 2 nights so as to fully enjoy the facilities for at least one complete 24 hour period. 

And now, on to the stuff I read. 

In a Sunburnt Country by Bill Bryson

This was a freebie on a bookshelf In Pai.  I wouldn't have read it, but I hadn't done a scrap of research on Australia and it seemed the responsible thing to do.  As a result, Bryson is responsible for our having just visited Adelaide, which we lurved! His account of his travels down under are entertaining and quite informative, as he gets off the most trodden path and explores some small towns and quirky sites (like the giant earthworm museum, which we skipped). All of that said, if we hadn't been mere days away from Melbourne without a clue, I definitely would have flaked before the end.  Perhaps this comment illuminates my self-centeredness, but I just don't think I'd care enough to finish an 800 page account of a place I wasn't ever planning to go.

The Godfather of Kathmandu By John Burdett

I barely even remember what this book was about. There was definitely drug trafficking through Tibet and some spiritual hi jinks involving the series' protagonist. Also a tie-in to Hollywood and terrifying accounts of high level meditation.  The rest is a bit murky - I read it while we were in Pai and I was napping a lot at the time. Suffice it to say, it was digestible but far less tasty than Bangkok 8.  Like a rom-com starring the Kutch, this was infinitely entertaining and equally forgettable.  Serving suggestion: best read in a hammock. 

A Nail Through the Heart by Tim Hallinan

Amazon recommended this one based on my downloading of the John Burdett.  Definitely written in the same vein; a SE Asian do-gooder in an imperfect world.  I think Tim Hallinan's portrayal is more restrained but less realistic.  While Burdett acknowledges the infinite corruption rampant in Thailand and thus moderates his policeman protagonist, Tim Hallinan employs an amateur sleuth who doesn't oft get stuck to red tape.  Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed the antics of Poke Rafferty, a former travel writer who becomes a Bangkok detective.  Like the Burdett books, its not enough just to have a Thailand based crime-thriller.  This novel involves the Khmer Rouge, Chinese drug smuggling, and a Scandanavian fetishist.  I hope the next one has muppets and midgets and Malaysians too.  I'll probably read it regardless. 

The Man with No Time by Tim Hallinan

I bought this book without realizing it was written by the same dude that wrote "A Nail Through the Heart."  I was doing an experiment on Amazon to see what books I could buy for under $4 that didn't seem like steaming piles of shit.  This was $1.99 and I didn't realize until I hit the AUTHOR'S BIO at the end that it was by the same dude.  This novel features an earlier narrator, Simeon Grist, who is more flawed and less family oriented than nerdy Poke.  He gets drunk a lot and is witty and relatable, making this otherwise ridiculous novel a fun read.  Though still centering around conflicting Asian cultures, its set entirely in LA, where the Chinese food in Chinatown is portrayed to be great, and the characters never sit in traffic. 

Under the Banner of Heaven by John Krakauer

To learn, in detail, about Mormonism, the history of Mormonism, the politics of Mormonism, and Mormons, I'd recommend this book. Its a pretty fascinating religion to learn about, but the marketing of the book is off base. Its synopsized as being about a sensational killing committed by 2 fundamentalist Mormons in the 80s.  And it kind of is, but its more about the religion as a whole. I didn't go in expecting the in-depth schooling that I received, and there are way too many footnotes for reading on a Kindle.  Also, so many characters I needed a pad & paper to keep track.  It was like reading Marquez.  Bit of a slog, so I'd give it a 6 for entertainment and a 9 for educational.

Freedom by Jonathan Franzen

Wowzah. I haven't been this captivated in ages. Franzen somehow takes the seemingly mundane story of some fairly unlikeable members of a mid-western family and makes magic. I read this book to the exclusion of quite a few other things (like talking at breakfast) until I finished its bazillion pages. Somehow the lengthy novel manages real emotion and sentimentality without schmaltz throughout.  I feel like I should go back and give “the Corrections” another shot.  Tons of critics and reviewers thought this book was mediocre or worse.  But they were wrong, and I  am right. Way to go, Franz.

Red Brier Happiness, Richmond, Tasmania

(lest I confuse anyone, this is an old post... We're in the Barossa Valley in South Australia, but I'm going to try to catch up chronologically)


We haven't stumbled on somewhere this magical since the House Hostel in Sokcho, Korea.  Our host, Vianne, was concerned that we might not immediately fall in house love with the 1834 cottage that she rented out in historic Richmond village.  I'm not sure what wouldn't be to love about wide plank floors, huge fluffy beds, and nearly 200-year-old details including an old bread stove in the living room. 

Vianne has 2 other well established accommodations on the property; one an old school cottage and the second a contemporary villa.  Judging by the interiors mags overflowing from the magazine racks, I'd say the whole complex is her creative playpen.  The main house (where we stayed) is her newest addition.

I've said it before and I'll say it again - I may yet be cutout for small town life.  After an unbelievable Italian dinner at Anton's our first evening, I wasn't even angry to find it randomly closed when we tried to go back a couple of nights later.  Know why? Because that's what people in small towns do.  They close their shops so they can pursue their hobbies and see their friends and maybe their kids instead of grinding it out making pizzas every night of the week.  Someone remind me of this when I start interviewing, kay?

But I digress.  The cottage, the town, the magic.  The view out our bedroom window.  When we had the window cracked the smell of lavender filed the room.

The 3rd bedroom in the little cottage, which Vianne had converted to also be used as the breakfast room.

Each time I slide the automated key into the slot of another crappy Australian motel room, I momentarily squint in hopes that we're back at the Red Brier.  Sadly, once I take in my surroundings, very few places we've stayed since have come close to being as lovely.

Hay-o

The bad news is that I'm terribly behind on updating this blog.  The good news is that the reason for my tardiness is that we've been having a lot of fun in Australia, wandering the hills and socializing with old (like from way back in Thailand) and new friends. 

We're now on the Fleurieu Peninsula in South Australia.  We've been hiking our asses off (sadly not literally) and have seen, like, 50 kinds of kangaroos.  Including albino kangaroos which I'm convinced can see directly into my soul.  Adorably creepy.

Tomorrow we head to Adelaide where we will actually stay in one place for more than 24 hours, giving me time to return several way belated e-mails and catch up on this here blog.  Por favor, stay tuned...

Weather related poetry

We're staying in Cradle Mountain National Park for a few days and the weather has not been conducive to nature loving.  Or even nature making out.   On the upside, the season does change about every 4 minutes.  The I composed these haiku while staring out our cabin window waiting for the sleet to subside so we could get on the trails. 

big hike planned today

sleeting on Cradle Mountain

every fucking time

momentary sun

quick, before it hides again

run for the summit

wilderness village

stupid name for these cabins

but, there's a heater

Tasmanian woods

weatherproofed my new hikies

now, about my face

Old hikies.  No treads left on the heels.

New hikies.  Ready to climb shit.