Travel tally

We've been on the road for almost 10 months and, at some point, I naturally started categorizing "visitor's stuff to do" into like and dislike columns.  This way, when wandering into a new city/town/organic farming situation, we can quickly separate the shit from the chaff and plan our assault.  Perhaps in the future I can apply this method to my task list at work and invite lists for social gatherings.

Again!	Enough!
Sand Dunes	Desert
Ruins	Tribal Villages
Mountains	Caves
Beaches	Hot springs
College towns & neighborhoods	Government centers
Traditional Massage	Traditional Dance
Mausoleums	Cemeteries
Markets	Wet Markets
Malls	Shopping Streets
Street food	Street Performers
Temples	Churches
Walking	Taxis
Tuk Tuks	Vans
Trains	Buses
Animal Conservancies	Zoos
Art Museums	Folk museums
Galleries	Local Handicrafts
Big Rocks	Monuments

From the animal conservancy archives:
This is a Tasmanian Devil.  They're dying in droves because they carry a form of cancer that is contagious among the species, transferred through biting (which they a lot).  Also, they aren't as cute as I thought they'd be.  This one is chewing through bone.

Never gets old.  Want for pet:

Its going to be weird when we come home and the lists I make shift from the above to endless and inane to do's.  My brain will again be chocker with appointments that need keeping, correspondence that needs returning and the practically mundane.  Dislike.

Lest you're getting misty at this last point, weep not.  I'm in the Auckland airport waiting to board our flight to Rarotonga.  Like.

Insert pirate joke here.

Boating in Australia and New Zealand is incredibly popular and often the best way to see the sights.  Surrounded by water, the good people of Oceania have figured out how to incorporate boats into tourism, entertainment, and daily transport.  I've always loved being on boats, and we've been super jazzed to be afloat exponentially more than usual since being down here.

Our last night in Sydney, we stayed with the Brightons in Cronulla.  Barb is the big sis of one of my besties from SU.  We went out for a sail and a dip; wine, cheese, and sunset included.  It was awesome! Only Dave had the stones to dive in from the mast. Made us want a sailboat.  And to know how to sail a sailboat.

From Auckland, we took a day trip to Waiheke island and hiked all over it, often through private property, which the locals graciously endorse.  Its beautiful and WASPy and nautically themed.  Apparently there are also white sand beaches there, but we hoofed it to the south shore where there were ruins of old boats, an equestrian club, and plenty of strangers' dogs to accost. 

After Auckland, we headed north to the Bay of Islands.  We stayed in an amazing cottage (Sunseeker Cottages in Paihia, if ever you're in the 'hood) overlooking a valley and tooled around the area for a few days.  We saw a ton of stuff and really dug it up there, so perhaps that bit merits a separate post.  One of the days, we went out on the boat pictured below for a day-long sail around the islands.  We anchored in a bay for a swim, a hike to a bluff vista, and a picnic lunch on deck. 

Once on the South Island of NZ our first itinerary item was a trip to Milford Sound.  About 4 hours from Queenstown on the windy-est roads since Pai, we took the early boat out because we'd read there would be less traffic on the water.  We basically had the joint to ourselves.  It was a quiet and nature-filled few hours as we traveled through the sound and were reunited with our old buddy, the Tasman Sea. 

We'll likely only be land lubbers for a few more days before we head to the Cook Islands, where we'll be in and on water for almost a month.  We'll be taking a break from cultural exploration and replacing visits to temples and climbing up shit with snorkeling and competitive seafood eating.  Expect scintillating tales of tan lines from the South Pacific...

The one where I complain about Australian food, or, first world problems

We're in New Zealand now, where people can not only identify raw vegetables, but also enjoy eating them. Our 2+ months in Oz sometimes felt like a great pre-slaughter fatten up. We didn't love Australian food (save a few outstanding meals), and were told on many occasions that the Aussies weren't too fond of American fare neither. Which poses a question about taste. We all started off as Brits eating, presumably, gruel and salted meats. Have the intervening hundreds of years changed our taste buds so drastically that we can't even recognize the same things as “good”?

My beef with Australian food (pun intended) is the same issue I've had on occasion in the mid-west (no offense Chicagoans, but I think if you dig deep you'll know where I'm coming from). Vegetables are rare and when available, they're cooked, fried, or flavorless. Salads in Australia are often a pile of toppings – bacon, cheese, meats, on a bed of lettuce. “Veg” as defined in the pubs is boiled root vegetables in boiling water juice on a plate. Its gross and my jeans are too tight. Which would be okay if I'd eaten lots of lovely foods. Said jeans were too tight at the end of Tokyo but I earned those 5 lbs through competitive izakaya visiting and shochu cocktailing. After Australia, I just feel used.

Australian food also tends to be criminally under seasoned. There must a hyper effective anti-salt marketing machine at work on the island. The belief is widely held, and was explained to us more than once (unprompted), that fish n' chips is alright unless you add salt at the table. To be clear, deep fried food is okay, salt is not okay. In fact, having gone to MacDonald's at the airport I was surprised to note that the McChicken, with its breading, cheese, mayo, and single lettuce leaf, is a government approved “healthy meal.” Unless, I would suppose, you added salt. Because otherwise there's none in there and you're looking hot like OG Richard Simmons.

And back on the Mid-western tip... The Aussies enjoy their mayo. Its a sweet concoction (more Miracle Whip than Hellman's) and can be used as a substitute for any sauce a chef has included in his menu but never tasted. I had sugary mayonnaise served both as Caesar salad dressing and as Hollandaise.  Just. Why.

As an American, I'm not one to throw stones on the dietary leanings of another country. But when a nation that prides itself on beef chooses not to season or dry age at even the fanciest of steak houses, my vote is going to have to be for the Outback Steak house chain of America. Rather than, say, an actual steak house in the outback.  Which we ate at.  They served "veg."

The Big Rock in the Middle

Before we split from Ozland, we made it to the middle to see Uluru, aka Ayer's Rock.  The tourist industry that's been built in the outback surrounding this giant hunk of earth is astounding. The “Ayers Rock Resort” is the only game in town, encompassing 5 or 6 hotels, car rental service, a jillion restaurants and as many ways to see/attack that rock as a room full of ad execs could've come up with in a brainstorming sesh. 

To wit, you may experience Uluru on foot either on your own or led by an Aboriginal guide. One can ride to it on camel or horse back, over it in a helicopter, around it on an ATV or in tour bus, or dine next to it as the sun sets. These folks are squeezing the figurative blood from the rock that tourists can't get enough of.

Alice Springs is the nearest outback town, about a 5 hour drive from the rock. We'd originally planned to fly there and rent a car but after seeing broadcasts about unrest in the aboriginal camps there and some low grade rioting on the street, we were rethinking.  After a German tourist was stabbed to death and a city wide curfew of 9 pm enstated, we crossed it off the list entirely.

Fortunately, our handy American Airlines miles (virtually useless in the US) allowed us to fly directly into the little airport (called Yuluru) that's been built to service the rock. As the plane bumped its way through and along the runway, I wondered allowed if this whole thing would be a disappointment. Before deplaning, I said to Ed: I think we should prepare ourselves that this could be underwhelming. I mean, its just a rock. Being on the road for this long and seeing top ten itinerary items on a near-daily basis, I thought it important to acknowledge our own jadedness. We're not so easily impressed these days. Mongolia was a long time ago.

After checking into the resort, we wandered about the complex and had a few cocktails at the various bars. We walked to one of the lookout points and had our first real look at the thing. The earlier rain was still streaming down it, making it appear bluish and multi-colored. It seemed almost to pulse on the horizon.  It was fucking huge.

The next morning we collected our little car and drove to the rock. When it came into view in the park, it nearly took my breath away. We pulled the car over about every 45 seconds to stare at it. Once we arrived, we parked and hiked around it. Seeing the huge caves and waterholes and rolling changes in its face up close was surprising, it looks smooth from far away. Every angle gave a new perspective and we giggled our way around it in the outback heat. In short, we fell in love with the rock.

We returned that evening to watch the sunset behind it, and the following morning to see it come back up in front of it. Ed took a ton of gorgeous photos, I've just included this one because you can see the rainbow that appeared during sunrise. Something about Uluru seems animated, or anamorphic. Dippy as it sounds, the hunk of dirt seems to have the personality of a wise and kind old soul. Its so inexplicably huge, and so surrounded by nothing, that its mesmerizing. It kept appearing in the side view mirror, or reflecting itself in Ed's sunglasses. Even when I wasn't looking at it, it seemed to follow me.

On a practical level, if anyone out there ever plans to go, don't book anything through the resort. The prices they quote, and their claims to be the only way are boolsheet. I booked our hotel and rental car online for less than half the price quoted to me by Voyages; apparently their talent for screwing people extends beyond the local tribes. 

We spent less than 48 hours near the rock, and that was probably about enough for us. The overpriced food and false cruise ship atmosphere of the resort felt strangely inappropriate. We could have stayed and stared at that thing for days, but having a limited time together meant appreciating it and filling our eyes with intensity.

Uluru was one of my favorite parts of our trip. I don't know what that thing is, but it is, most certainly, not just a rock. 

Why so quiet, you ask?

It's well into April, and nary a post from moi.  I'm sure you're all pacing the floor in anticipation.

Turns out, New Zealand hates the internet.  I mean I don't know if, as a country, New Zealand has a stance.  But what I do know is that buying a dongle (ha) was stoopit expensive and free wifi is rare as unicorns.  Also, we've been doing a LOT of stuff, which I'll tell ya about real soon.

Also, and more importantly: Happy Happy Birthday to Katie!  Wonderful wishes for my mom-in-law to be.