New Zealand - Auckland to Glen Afton

As we got closer to leaving home last summer, New Zealand became part of a triplet placed at the end of a memorized itinerary that we employed to inform friends and family about our journey.  “...Australia, New Zealand, Hawaii, then back home.”  The middle location in that phrase is now our temporary home at the start of autumn in the southern hemisphere, and the land of the kiwis and Middle Earth is a reality for twenty-eight days.  One of my good friends is a native New Zealander who has spun tales for years about the beauty of his country, but due to its remote location, I thought I would never have the opportunity or the money to travel there.  Other world travelers we know have also told us about the exquisite landscapes of the north and south islands, and we’ve looked forward to beholding them with our own eyes for a long time.  So, now that we’re here, does the beauty of the kiwi countryside live up to the descriptions delivered by those lost in fond reveries?  Yes, yes, it does.  

The three-hour flight from Brisbane, Australia, was pleasant, and we all watched movies to pass the time.  My selection was Assasin's Creed which I’m fairly certain didn’t win any Oscars, but it was engaging, and the lush musical score kept me from exploring other options.  We were served a huge breakfast of cheese omelets, sausage, and potatoes with greens along with coffee and juice, which made the free flight all the more rewarding.  The crew members all hailed from New Zealand, and the periodic announcements were delivered in the distinct and pleasant kiwi accent, similar to the Australian intonation but softer and more satisfying to the ear.

The long-dormant butterflies awakened in my stomach as we touched down in Auckland, and I realized the time had come to drive a car, which I hadn’t done since we traversed the Grecian Peloponnese back in November.  Like the other countries headed by Queen Elizabeth, New Zealand requires residents and visitors to drive on the left side of the highway, and along with tales of the verdant countryside, I had heard stories of narrow winding roads full of loose gravel and wandering livestock.  Deena used her points magic to book the car for free; her mastery of travel sorcery yielded a roomy chariot with automatic transmission, a first on this journey.  When approaching a two-lane roundabout on the left side, it’s nice not to have the added worry about jamming the car into second gear on the opposite side of the body.  We loaded our luggage in the boot, and I took a deep breath and entered the flow of traffic leaving the busy airport.

I began to breathe easier as I got used to the traffic patterns, and it helped that the road signs were clearly marked all the way to our destination of Glen Afton, a small village in the countryside about a ninety-minute drive from Auckland.  We stopped briefly at a Countdown grocery store in the town of Huntly and filled a shopping cart with supplies for the next few days and pulled into the driveway of our cottage just as the sun was setting over the hills.  The twilight chill of autumn crept into the air as we brought our luggage and bags of groceries into the house. We were thankful to be off the road and settled for the day.  

The century-old cottage in which we’re staying for the next four days has been equipped with many modern conveniences, but it still retains country charm with original honey-toned oak floor boards marked by woodworm trails and an old woodstove in the parlor—the sole provider of heat.  The house has clapboard siding painted white with a small deck wrapping around the rear corner, and it’s bigger inside than it appears outside with three bedrooms and a large kitchen with an old farmhouse table in the corner.  The walls are all painted linen white, and the thick moldings and low ceilings produce a cozy feel that recalls simpler times.  We enjoyed a quick supper of prepared lasagne, lit a fire, and relaxed in the parlor while the electric blankets warmed up the beds for which we were soon ready after a full day of travel.

I forced myself out of the warm bed into the chilly house not long after sunrise the next day and managed to get a fire going in the stove and water boiling in the coffee pot.  The glass doors in the parlor face east, and soon the sun’s rays were pouring into the room adding more warmth. The deep blue backdrop of the New Zealand sky behind the green hills was like a masterpiece hung on the wall.  The rest of my crew got up slowly, and after breakfast, the kids began working on their state-required achievement tests while Deena and I researched activities for the afternoon.  It was Anzac Day, a national holiday that commemorates servicemen killed in battle and honors veterans. We weren’t sure about closings and such, but we headed out anyway after lunch bound for Bridal Veil Falls, a highly recommended feature at the end of a short hike.

The hour-long drive to the trailhead was easy and picturesque with rolling hills covered in tight, bright green grass and small stands of evergreen trees in the valleys.  The hillsides were full of black and brown cattle and sheep looking thin from a recent shearing and still sporting tracks from the clippers on their backs.  Other than the sight of a few tropical-looking trees and the absence of stone fences, the New Zealand countryside looked similar to the Irish and North Carolina mountain landscape. After months spent in the jungles of southeast Asia, it was a welcome and familiar sight.

The trail to the falls was lively with families celebrating the holiday together. We joined them in a short walk through the bush canopy with air made cool and damp by the slow-flowing green river and the close tree cover.  The plants and roots near the ground were moss covered, and strange trees with thick brown trunks fanned out with foliage overhead in the shape of giant ferns.  We stopped for a brief break and were delighted when a shaggy-legged goat appeared from the thick vines across the river and slid down the muddy bank for a drink.  At the end of the trail, the forest opened up to vast blue sky behind faraway craggy mountain peaks and the roar of Bridal Veil Falls as the constricted flow of the river spread into a whitewater plunge from the basalt tip fifty-five meters down into the wide sandstone pool at the bottom.  We spent some time taking pictures of this spectacular place before hiking back and taking to the road again.

We wound up in Raglan, a sleepy coastal town home to Ngarunui Beach famous for its tall cliffs, wide shoreline, and powerful waves which makes it a popular destination for surfers.  We got a bit lost, but it didn’t matter since the area was nice to view. We eventually made our way to the cliffs overlooking the seashore and watched the surfers in the water and a guy paragliding along the tall precipice in front of us.  We drove back to town, found easy parking, and spent an hour walking the streets along with the backpackers and surfers and eventually stopped at a small cafe that served tasty cookies and brownies and a rich cup of coffee.  I topped off the gas tank for the drive home, which took less than an hour and found us once again in the driveway just as the sun set behind the hilltops.  

Mysterious glow worms inhabit caves and crevices in cliff walls in this part of New Zealand, and we had hoped to view this natural phenomenon, but cave tour prices were high, so we did some research and found a way to view them on our own—for free.  We spent a lazy day around the house and continued achievement testing and writing and enjoyed a sunny day in our neighborhood.  The Waitomo Village was our chosen glow worm destination which was about a ninety-minute drive from our cottage through rolling countryside. We started out late in the afternoon to time our arrival near sunset.  

There weren’t many cars on the road, and we had an easy drive to the Waitomo area and got there in plenty of time to do some hiking before supper.  Deena found the Ruakuri Bush Walk online, considered one of New Zealand’s best short hikes, located about four kilometers from the Waitomo Village, and it involved a moderate march through thick forest along high lichen covered cliffs with trails through rock tunnels, over natural bridges, and into dark caves—it was spectacular.  After an hour of hiking, we drove back to the village to search for supper before returning to the trail after dark.

On a tip from a village campground owner, we drove several kilometers up a dark mountainside on the outskirts of town and then twisted along a gravel road until we arrived at Roseland, a campground/hotel/restaurant establishment that boasted an inexpensive buffet.  We found a table in front of a giant TV screen with a rugby match in full scrum and tucked into big bowls of roasted potatoes and tender beef stew with thick gravy—good plain Hobbit fare, which warmed our bellies and sturdied us for the nighttime journey ahead.  

I made friends with the proprietor, Ben, who asked if we wanted to see some glow worms before we tackled our night hike, and we readily agreed.  We walked outside to the parking lot ,which by now was completely dark, and finally got a full on look at the night sky in the southern hemisphere—breathtaking.  Ben led us down a short trail bordering the restaurant property and stopped in front of some low rock formations full of moss-covered, scooped-out crevices, pinpointed with the soft neon blue light of glow worms.  This particular species of insect is native to New Zealand, and in its larval stage, spins sticky webs to catch other insects for food. The hapless prey is lured by the light produced by chemicals in the worms' bodies reacting with oxygen.  Ben gave us a quick lecture about other local flora and fauna before being called back to the restaurant, and we thanked him for his kindness.

By the time we arrived back at the Ruakuri trailhead, it was so dark I could barely see my hand flapping in front of my face, and there was only one other car in the parking lot which added to the creepiness factor.  When we got out of our car, the night sky was so intense with stars it stopped us in our tracks.  The soft swirl of the Milky Way looked like a wide cloudy vein revealed from the depths of a vast slab of black marble, and at the pointed tip of the lode, the regal Southern Cross constellation sat boldly in the center of the sky.  The fabled Southern Cross has been the subject of songs and poems and serves as an emblem on the flags of five countries, and standing on the earth staring transfixed by this beautiful group of bright stars, we could see why.

We had a short hike back down the trail to a wooden bridge that spanned a low point in the towering gorge where the swift river cut through the caves and tunnels in the area.  Following the advice gleaned from all the travel forums, we walked to the center of the bridge and turned our flashlights off.  Our collective sharp intake of breath reflected our surprise and delight at the sudden view of the high rock walls of the gorge illuminated by hundreds of glow worms in groups of hazy blue luminescent lights that appeared to float from the vertical surfaces like miniature constellations.  We stayed there for a long time until the chill of the night air forced us back down the trail. We declared the display by the glow worms of the Ruakuri Bush Walk one of the coolest things we’ve ever seen—a rare distinction. It was a long drive home through the dark countryside, but it seemed to pass quickly thanks to strong coffee and a lively conversation about the wonderful things we had seen that day.

With another travel day looming, we chose to spend our last day in Glen Afton hanging around the cottage that we had come to love in such a short time.  We became master woodstove fire builders and kept the place toasty warm while we spent the day reading and finally finishing achievement testing for the kids. Their reward was a quick trip out to town for an ice cream cone reward.  We did a little packing that night and popped some popcorn to munch on while watching HGTV fixer-upper shows before turning in and closing our time in the serene north island countryside.

By 9:00 the next morning, we were packed and on the road headed toward the town of Matamata and the nearby Hobbiton Movie Set, one of my most anticipated activities of this entire trip and one that I thought would never get here.  I’ve written before about my fascination with J.R.R.Tolkien’s literary opus, The Lord of the Rings, which I’ve read thirty-eight times, once a year, since I was twelve-years old, and I’m not ashamed to admit that if there was a way, I’d relocate to Middle Earth in a Hobbit’s heartbeat.  I’ve seen the movies countless times as well, and I enjoy getting into heated trivia matches with other Tolkien enthusiasts who soon succumb to my superior knowledge.  I remember going to the first movie in 2001 with a skeptical attitude thinking there’s no way they’ve done justice to Frodo and the gang, and I sat in my seat with my arms crossed waiting to be disappointed.  Then the movie started and the rich images of Middle Earth appeared on the screen, and I remember my jaw dropping as I thought, “Oh my goodness, they nailed it.”  The Shire looked exactly like I had pictured it my mind for decades, and I was greatly moved.

We drove an hour and a half from Glen Afton to Matamata through thick fog, which slowly gave way to blue skies and bright sunshine making the dew on the grass in the pastures look like diamonds.  We arrived at the Hobbiton complex five minutes before our reserved tour time and soon were seated on a coach entering the the private farmland of the Alexander family who maintain the movie set and I’m sure profits handsomely from the tourists—good for them.  For the next two hours, we wandered the undulating trails of Hobbiton lined with flowers and gardens full of multicolored squash and gourds and listened to stories about the filming and the director’s obsession with detail.  

My face hurt from smiling so much, and we took many pictures including a shot in front of the painter’s house, which turned out was the only one where visitors could go—I even got to hold one of the brushes for the photo.  Other fun stops were Frodo and Bilbo’s home at Bag End, the Party Tree, and The Green Dragon Inn, where we enjoyed mugs of local brew looking out over the pond and grist mill as a raft of ducks cavorted in the reeds near the bank.  I had an unbelievable time seeing this place in person, and I was pleased that my family had just as much fun as I did in this whimsical visit to Middle Earth.  We had a quick lunch back at the tour office before heading down the highway again bound for the town of Tauranga on the Bay of Plenty as our discovery of New Zealand continues.

Painter's house

Australia - Cairns

The city of Cairns is named for William Wellington Cairns, a former governor of the state of Queensland, whose last name for some reason was pronounced “cans.”  We’re still having trouble remembering that the name of the city is pronounced the same way, but thankfully the locals are quick to remind us.  Our current home is in a suburb called Redlynch about twenty minutes outside the city, and the house is one of the nicest in which we’ve stayed so far.  A five-minute walk takes us to the neighborhood shopping center, which has an incredible grocery store called Woolworths, a Domino’s Pizza, a pharmacy, and a McDonald’s which is known in Australia by the nickname "Macca’s."  Our house is brand new with three bedrooms, a kitchen equipped with a nice cooktop and dishwasher, a spacious living room with a patio looking out to the lush back yard, a big bathroom with a  powerful shower, and there’s even a giant washing machine with an actual agitator in the side-entry mudroom.  Yep, this house has everything we could possibly want in a temporary home—except wifi.  

Here’s an example of a conversation between Deena and me as we’re in the online process of booking a place to stay:

“Hey, this place looks good.  It has an extra bedroom, a fifth-floor balcony with a view of the city, an award-winning coffee shop on the corner, and grocery stores and restaurants all around the block.  Wow, there’s even a washing machine AND and a dryer!”

“Hmmm….sounds really good, does it have wifi?"

“Ummm, no.”

“Keep looking.”

“Okay, here’s one that’s a little more expensive closer to town, but it’s only one room, and the bathroom just has a shower which we’d have to share with the other guests in the building.”

“What about a toilet?”

“No toilet, the listing says you have to walk three blocks down the street and pay to use the toilet in back of the slaughterhouse.”

“Does it have wifi?”

“Yes.”

“Book it before someone else gets it.”

I don’t see how travel was possible before the internet.  Travel agents were certainly helpful back in the day, and I’m sure they still are, but we prefer to plan our own itinerary. Online research requires a lot of time and patience, but the results have saved us a ton of money, and we get to do things our own way.  If we have questions about activities, bus schedules, weather, currency, or anything else that would affect our stay in a certain place, a quick search reveals the answers.  The internet allows us to access our banking accounts, book lodging, send and receive emails, and keep up with our friends and family with free wifi video calls and social media outlets.  The kids have done the majority of their schoolwork online, and when I spend time writing, I love using Google docs with its quick access to a thesaurus and online extras when I’m not too lazy to research something.

When there’s no wifi, everything grinds to a halt.  The kids have data on their phones, but it’s verrrry sloooow, and it’s impossible to use them as hotspots or anything else except to check emails.  We booked the house in Redlynch because it was new and inexpensive and huge, and we figured at this point in the trip, we could use a little more space if we could get it.  We knew it didn’t have wifi, but with Macca’s down the street, we thought it would be easy to survive by camping out in their dining room, munching french fries, and using all the free internet floating around in the burger-scented air.  Indeed, we’ve set up individual “MyMacca’s” accounts and spent every evening haunting a booth while trying to catch up and plan our next moves.  We’re thankful for the big new house, but having almost constant access to wifi even in fairly primitive places over these last nine months has left us a bit spoiled, and walking down to Macca’s is kind of a drag, but at least they have Coke slushies available for only a dollar.

Cairns reminds us of nice American beach towns with good roads and all the services and amenities one could want while staying near the seashore.  The major difference is the surrounding blue green mountains covered in tropical rainforest and separated by valleys filled with sugarcane fields.  The sky seems larger here for some reason, and the brief rain showers we’ve experienced everyday makes the color of the flowers more intense and the broad-leafed grass greener.  The city, which is located on an inlet off the Coral Sea, is a major draw for backpackers and other tourists alike because of the tropical climate and proximity to the Great Barrier Reef, the world’s largest coral-reef system with 2,300 kilometers full of 2,900 individual reefs and over 900 islands.

The Neighborhood

We’re not into scuba diving, and we’ve snorkeled only a couple of times, but we wanted to spend a day on the Great Barrier Reef, so we booked passage on a boat to Fitzroy Island National Park located about an hour from Cairns off the Queensland coast right in the heart of the reef.  The skies opened up with drenching downpours about a half hour before we left for the downtown ferry terminal, and we thought our day on the island would be spent huddling under coconut palms, but the rains moved through quickly leaving an intense rainbow set in the sky in their wake.  

The name of the travel company we used was called Raging Thunder, probably named after the sound the boat made when its hull smacked the huge swells in the ocean as it churned out of the bay heading to Fitzroy.  We’ve experienced some rough seas in our travels, but nothing like these waves. By the time we arrived on the white sand shores of the island, many passengers had their heads buried deeply in the complimentary barf bags handed out by the crew.  Thankfully, we didn’t get sick, although it took an hour or so to get over the queasy feeling produced by the rolling seas. It helped that we were standing on the shores of a tropical paradise with a mountainous rainforest at its core.

Looking out from the rainforest

One doesn’t rent anything in Australia; instead, one can “hire” goods and services, so we hired a couple of sets of snorkel gear including polyester stinger suits, which the staff strongly recommends wearing during the months from November to May.  The world is a dangerous place, but Australia contributes even more peril to the global risk factor by offering eight of the world’s ten most dangerous snakes along with various venomous spiders, insects, and jellyfish, our life-threatening hazard of the day.  These ethereally floating invertebrates called marine stingers are prevalent in the surf this time of year, and a single sting can progress from an irritating burning sensation to an urgent lifesaving need for an airlift back to a hospital on the mainland.  It’s difficult to avoid the marine stingers since they’re small and practically invisible.  

So, with snorkel gear and stinger suits in hand, we hiked a little more than a kilometer through the rainforest to Nudey Beach on the southern tip of Fitzroy island, and thankfully the name of the beach was derived from a surname rather than Australians running unfrocked on the seashore.  The beach closest to the forest was comprised mostly of bleached fossilized coral which gave way to golden sand where the turquoise surf made landfall in a foamy crash.  Deveny noticed something hopping around in the thick jungle behind us which turned out to be a large white cockatoo with a regal curving crest on top of its head and a wicked black beak.  

We made our camp beside some boulders in the shade of the coconut palms and mangroves and took turns donning our gear and snorkeling through the waves in the cool water.  Visibility is typically two meters or more in the waters off Nudey Beach, but the recent rainstorms had churned the waters to the point where we had practically no visibility. We talked to some other travelers later in the day who had gone out on glass-bottom-boat tours, and they said the water was too murky for reef viewing as well.  We were a little let down that we couldn’t see any colorful fish off the reef, but again, the beauty of the island on a bright sunny day trumped any disappointment we felt, and we still felt the triumph of snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef.  Thankfully, the seas were much calmer on the trip back to Cairns late that afternoon. We all slept for a while as the effects of the sun and our activities took their toll, and bedtime came early that night after dinner and a trip to Macca’s.

Envirogirl is here to save the reef for mankind

Snorkeling the reef

The walkway that borders the seawall in the heart of Cairns is called the Esplanade, which is home to a manmade lagoon similar to the one in downtown Brisbane but on a smaller scale.  The lagoon was our destination for the following afternoon, and we took the bus which offered a less expensive alternative to Uber and a more scenic drive into town.  We hopped off at the bus station a few blocks from the Esplanade and made our way to the lagoon past restaurants, souvenir shops, and gelato stands which we noted for the walk back later in the day.  We also strolled past a huge grove of banyan trees with a massive green canopy supported by trunks the size of small houses with aerial roots fanning out to the surrounding sidewalks.  The canopy was alive with the movement and chattering of animals that we assumed were large birds or possibly monkeys, but we couldn’t see through the thick leaves to the source of the cacophony.

We had the blessing of another sunny day and ate a picnic lunch at one of the tables on the perimeter of the lagoon shaded by tall palm trees and listened to the dry rustle of the branches as a warm breeze blew in from the sea.  We found a spot under a large gazebo for our headquarters beside the pool and spent a lazy couple of hours in and out of the cool water along with other like-minded families and groups of young people enjoying the day.  Joseph and I left the girls to their sunbathing for a while as we walked down to the end of the Esplanade and checked out the view of the mountains beyond the yachts anchored in the marina.  Cairns is an impressive town, and we could see why it’s so popular with travelers, especially as we savored cups of cherry and mango gelato on the walk back to the bus stop several hours later.  

I finally purchased a t-shirt to replace one that I’ve managed to wear out after months on the road, and Joseph scored a nice hoodie to combat the coming cold of New Zealand at the end of the week.  Upon our approach to the banyans, we could hear the commotion coming from the tree tops again, but this time we could see hundreds of huge flying foxes soaring between the branches where they landed and hung upside down swiveling their heads and screaming with wide open mouths lined with sharp teeth.  These things are basically giant bats the size of large crows, and although we’ve seen them hanging on caged perches in zoos over the years, seeing them unhindered in a huge colony was a thrill that was a bit unsettling.

We took the bus back to Redlynch where we cooled off in the house for a while, and Deveny and I took a walk up to Woolworths to shop for dinner.  With so many food options available to us now, we find ourselves standing in the middle of the store just staring around not sure what to purchase, but we persisted and enjoyed chicken-and-vegetable stuffed pastries that night along with buttery vegetables, applesauce, and crusty bread.  Of course the nightly trip to Macca’s in search of wifi yielded frozen Cokes for dessert before another fun day in Cairns came to a close.

It’s a good thing we had already enjoyed downtown because the following day was a total washout.  Heavy showers came through Redlynch all day, and we had no choice but to stay inside and stare wistfully out the windows...with no wifi....all day.  After watching the fifth or sixth International House Hunters episodes in a row when it was obvious there was no way a grand piano was going to fit in a fifth-floor apartment in Athens for only $900 a month—sheesh, we decided to brave the rains and hike to Macca’s for some ice cream and wifi.  Of course the wifi network was down at Macca’s, so we were forced to order french fries before heading out to the nearby shopping center in search of more wifi, which we found at a coffee shop in front of Woolworths and logged on for the price of a mocha and a long black.  Tough day, but a particularly deep and sensitive episode of Walker Texas Ranger on the telly that night helped take the edge off.  Life on the road can be difficult at times, but the level of perseverance of which my family is capable is astonishing.

I opened my eyes to sunshine coming through the window on our last day in Cairns, and I propped my head up on the pillow and stared at the talon-shaped leaves on the papaya tree in the front yard.  I thought about how this time last year, I had no idea what a papaya tree looked like or that I would prefer mangoes over papayas.  Deena had scored some half-priced tickets to the Tjapukai Aboriginal Cultural Center, so we tanked up on a big protein-packed breakfast as we prepared to get in touch with our inner aborigines.  I cooked up a buttery omelet and added sliced chunks of scotch fillet steaks leftover from dinner the night before.  The hot pot yielded a liter of boiling water that I poured over fresh grounds in the coffee press, and breakfast was served.

A friendly Uber driver dropped us off at the center around 11:00, and we spent four hours of fun with two other families as we learned about aboriginal Australia with our guide, Joe, a north coastal aborigine with wild hair, a big belly painted white, and a wicked sense of humor.  Joe started by showing us some of the local flora and fauna, and I was fascinated by his explanation of the aborigines’ use of various nuts and berries for food, especially the nut that needs grinding and washing every hour and a half for seven days in order to remove the poison before it’s fit to eat.  I asked Joe how the aborigines knew that it took washing for seven days to extract the poison from the nut, and he replied with a wink and a partially toothless grin, “Trial and error, mate.”

We walked outside for a while and saw huge turtles and freshwater eels breaking the surface of the swiftly flowing river that intersected the grounds of the center and then went back inside where Joe showed us the intricacies of aboriginal weapons and the didgeridoo, the quintessential musical instrument of ancient Australia.  Joe was an expert at playing this thing, which sounds like a deep, rhythmic booming pulled from the kangaroo-trod red earth of the Outback, and he treated us to a private concert which left us mesmerized.  An excellent film accompanied by dramatic performances by several aborigines immersed us in 50,000 years of tribal history. Afterward, we gathered around tables in the dining hall and watched performances of traditional dances while we munched hot paninis for lunch.

The day just kept getting better as Joe took us out to the spear-throwing and boomerang ranges and taught our group the proper way to knock a duck from the sky or take out a kangaroo at a hundred meters.  We said goodbye to our aboriginal friend back at the main hall, but he told us about another dance show we could watch free of charge, so we stayed a little longer to hear him play the didgeridoo again and see his friends portray a kangaroo hunt through dance one more time.  Wow.  We made up for being stuck in the house the day before big time, and we loved our time at the Tjapukai Center which left us feeling exhilarated not only by the intense presentations, but by our new knowledge of the rich history of Australia as well.

The Eagle Scout shows the aborigine how to make fire

On our last morning in Cairns, we were up early to finish packing and to clean the house in order to catch an Uber ride and make it to the airport by 8:00 for a 10:00 flight back to Brisbane.  The seats on the plane had individual entertainment screens, and I finally got to see Ron Howard’s excellent Beatles documentary, Eight Days a Week—a must see for any Beatles fan.  The plane landed just as the movie ended, and we were back in beautiful Brisbane for one night before continuing around the world to New Zealand.  We’re staying in a large suite at the Ascot Budget Hotel just down the road from the airport, and as I’m typing this last paragraph, a cool breeze is blowing into our second-floor living room, and fat kookaburras are swarming through the branches of a huge mimosa tree in front of the building squawking with calls that sound like wild laughter.  Australia is a beautiful country with friendly people everywhere, and even though it reminded us a lot of home, the koalas, kookaburras, and aborigines let us know that it’s like no other place on earth.

Australia - Brisbane

The most important ingredient of a good close shave is water, a lot of water.  Hot water.  Splashing and soaking the face for a couple of minutes with hot water softens the beard and allows shaving cream to set properly for a clean bracing shave.  A lot of men bemoan the chore of shaving every day, but I’ve always liked it, and I enjoy this aspect of grooming immensely as part of my morning routine.  Once every year or so, I’ll let my beard grow out for a couple of weeks just to prove to myself that I can still do it, but the females in my house can’t stand it, and truthfully, I can’t either.  I haven’t had a proper shave with hot water for three months, and after two days in Australia, I’ve had two of the best shaves of my life, or so it seems.  We’re back in the first world, and the things we now have at our fingertips make it seem like we’re living in some kind of dreamscape.  We’re not home, but it feels a lot like home even though people talk funny here and drive on the wrong side of the road.  

The differences between first and third world countries are mostly political and have to do with who lined up with the Allies after World War II and stayed loyal during the Cold War and all kinds of other boring stuff that makes my eyes glaze over.  These countries are also defined by their state of development, income levels, strength of economy, and other things that are slightly less dull but still difficult for a simpleton like me to grasp; so I’ve come up with my own set of criteria for determining the world in which a country belongs that the average mouth breather can understand:

1.  Water - drinkable from the tap?  First world.  Smells like acid from the tap, and there’s bottled water for sale on every street corner.  Third world.

2.  Toilet paper - flushable?  First World.  Small trash can next to the commode and a strict warning on the wall in ten languages.  Third world.

3.  Sidewalks - people walking on them leisurely while window shopping. First world.  People sleeping on them between five rows of parked motor scooters.  Third World.

4.  Traffic laws - in place with scary consequences if disobeyed so citizens obey.  First world.  In place with scary consequences if disobeyed and citizens couldn't care less.  Third world.

5.  Chickens - kept in expertly constructed coops in the backyard mainly as a hobby for fresh eggs.  First world.  Scrawny, running all over the place, nesting on roadsides, rooster chorus in the early morning.  Thirld world.

6.  Cattle and other livestock - kept in pastures or barns, fun to look at while driving through the countryside.  First world.  Shares the road with scooters and tuk tuks.  Third world.

7.  Rats - never seen one?  First world.  Saw a couple under the table at lunch.  Third world.

8.  Dogs and cats - spayed, neutered, current with shots and tags, kept in homes behind fences.  First world.  Roaming the streets, pregnant, unclaimed, fed by benevolent restaurateurs with a small surplus.  Third world.

9.  Cash - seen as suspect and sketchy, credit and debit cards preferred.  First world.  Only form of payment; credit and debit cards not accepted even though their logos are displayed on shop windows.  Third world.

10.  Restaurants - doors, windows, climate control, no bugs, no dogs, no cats.  First world.  No doors, no windows, fans (second world), bug spray on the table (second world), dogs and cats begging under the table.  Third world.

11.  Ferry boats - captain says, “Sorry folks, we’re at capacity!”  First world.  Captain blows a whistle and screams, “Move to back of boat!” until the number of passengers on board forces the boat down to where the rail is at water level.  Third world.

12.  Safety rules and regulations - government doesn’t trust citizens and foreigners to act wisely, so signs and labels are places everywhere to save people from themselves.  First world.  Citizens and foreigners are left to flounder in their own stupidity.  Third world.

Those examples should help most folks determine whether the country in which they’re currently residing is first world or third world, and even though it helps a little to be informed, moving from one to the other can be traumatic.

We landed in Brisbane, Australia, two days ago after a thirty-hour odyssey that included travel in two taxis, one ferry, two buses, and two planes.  The flight from Bangkok to Brisbane took nine hours alone, but we flew on Thai Airlines, which was very comfortable and accommodating with luggage, and we hope we’re finished with trying to beat baggage restrictions.  The music selection was top drawer, and I had Traveling Riverside Blues coursing through my headphones as we took off from Thailand, which my fellow Zep heads will appreciate, and the new release movie selection was pretty good too.  I ate a dinner of chicken and rice, watched Passengers with Jennifer Lawrence and Chris Pratt, slept three hours with the aid of modern medicine, watched The Accountant with Ben Affleck, ate breakfast, and knocked back a cup of coffee right before landing in Brisbane.  The rest of my crew had similar experiences, and all agreed that for a long flight, it wasn’t that bad.

Travel day

Now we’re in Brisbane, Australia on the east coast of the country/continent along with the other heavily-populated cities partially because it was easy to schedule the free flight from Thailand to this city.  It’s also home to the one of the few wildlife sanctuaries in Australia where visitors can cuddle with koala bears— the main selling point.  Most experts on ancient indigenous populations, besides having amazing parties, also agree that tribes of people had lived on the continent of Australia for fifty-thousand years when the Dutch reached the shores in the early 1600s. The British claimed and settled most of it almost two-hundred years later.  The aborigines are still here, but the majority of the population lives in the big cities and speaks with that peculiar nasal clipped accent that’s kinda British.  On a visit to the Outback steakhouse years ago, I learned from the menu that “Cheese fries, please” translates to “Chaze froiz, plaze” in Australian.

There are four celebrities whose deaths left me feeling disturbed and sad for a long time:  John Bonham, Dale Earnhardt, Princess Diana, and Steve Irwin.  Along with Paul Hogan, Steve Irwin was a great ambassador for Australia, and as the enthusiastic Crocodile Hunter, he was loved by millions including me, and it’s hard to believe that it’s been eleven years since he died.  I think it’s great that my little family is finally in the southern hemisphere in the Land Down Under which became more fascinating to me with each episode of the Crocodile Hunter.  The wildlife in Australia is unusual, and the majority of the mammals, reptiles, and birds here are found nowhere else in the world, and we’ve already witnessed a good bit of it.

Our home for five days in Brisbane is a mother-in-law suite on the first floor of a large house in the Kangaroo Point district just south of the river and the downtown area.  The house is in a neighborhood that reminds me of Jacksonville, Florida, with colorful houses built on stilts or over large garages and stands of palms mixed in with deciduous trees and tropical flowers lining the wide streets bleached white by the hot sun.  The five-meter-tall variegated hedge surrounding the property where our house is located gives the yard total seclusion, and our host family keeps mostly to themselves, so we feel like we own the place.  

The walls in our apartment are white painted paneling, and the trim and doors are painted with a full-gloss oil coating—the whole place has a fresh, clean look.  The floors in the kitchen and entry area are finished with richly colored terracotta tile resembling Mexican Saltillo.  The corner of the kitchen is home to a gas cooktop and oven and an espresso machine with a generous supply of coffee to keep me in crema for the week.  There’s a big bathroom with a washer AND dryer, and the shower is a glorious torrent of never-ending hot water that also cascades from the taps as well.  In many ways, it feels like we’ve just come home from a three-month camping trip, and we’re in a bit of shock as the world to which we’ve returned seems almost too good to be true.  We took a two-hour nap after arriving from the airport then walked down wide sidewalks past clipped lawns with flowers planted at the borders to the Vietnamese restaurant (yes, Vietnamese) where we once again enjoyed strong drip coffee.  From there, we took a quick stroll to the IGA grocery store to load up on supplies for a couple days, and we were set.

Next day we were up early feeling refreshed, and after a quick breakfast, summoned an Uber ride, and headed toward west Brisbane to the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary.  The sun was bright, and the lack of humidity allowed for a cloudless, deep blue sky.  The folks in the southern hemisphere are preparing for autumn, so the temperatures during the day in Brisbane stay in the upper seventies this time of year, which feels quite nice after months in the damp ninety-degree tropics and rainforests of southeast Asia.  Zoos are usually not my thing, but Lone Pine had a different feel altogether with almost total shade from tall, graceful eucalyptus trees and easy access to the animals living there.  For the next few hours we wandered lazily along the paths through the trees and fed kangaroos, saw flying foxes, watched slinky dingos prowl their territory, and took in a raptor show.  We watched platypuses swim, kookaburras hopped from branch to branch, and saw some of the most venomous snakes in the world coiled up on desert rocks.  There were wombats and creatures they claimed were Tasmanian devils, but after seeing every Looney Tunes cartoon multiple times, I think Lone Pine might not have the right creatures in captivity.  

Tasmanian devil?  I think not

Oops, ran one over

The real highlight at Lone Pine is the hundreds of koala bears living there that cling peacefully to low branches and munch eucalyptus leaves while visitors snap photos of these irresistibly cute critters.  We paid a little extra so Joseph and Deveny could hold a koala, and they loved it—what a fun thing to do.  We had a picnic lunch on the patio behind the general store where brush turkeys and water dragon lizards roamed freely, and I enjoyed watching the children and elderly ladies scream when they realized a two-foot dinosaur-looking lizard was at the foot of the table waiting for a dropped potato chip.  We visited with the koalas again after lunch and headed back home talking about the intriguing animals we saw that day at Lone Pine, a very special zoo.  We had left chicken breasts marinating in Italian dressing all day, so I threw them on the barbie out back and served them grilled and steaming hot with baked potatoes and broiled asparagus for a supper unlike any we’ve had for a long time.  

Brisbane was mostly shut down for Good Friday, but the weather was perfect, so we decided to walk down to the riverfront and check out the skyline of the city.  The City Hopper ferry sails the Brisbane River stopping at most major piers for several kilometers, and it’s free, so we jumped on board at the Maritime Museum and spent a couple of hours on a water tour of the city.  The downtown business area is on the north bank with impressive skyscrapers and the south bank has the rust-colored Kangaroo Cliffs with residential districts extending beyond.  Brisbane is a beautiful and well-planned city, and we enjoyed our time on the wide river on a cool, breezy afternoon.  

In fact, we enjoyed the river so much that we went back for a longer hike along the boardwalk the next day with Streets Beach as our destination.  We had another bright blue sky with warmer temperatures, but the cool breeze coming off the river was refreshing, and there were a lot of families out walking enjoying the holiday weekend.  Streets beach is a huge man-made lagoon located on the south bank of the Brisbane river that’s part sandy beach and part swimming pool, and its size and beauty is captivating especially with the skyscrapers of the city soaring in the background.  

The area surrounding the beach is a park landscaped with tall palms and tropical plants. Huge steel arbors lining the walkways support the weight of thick bougainvillea vines full of bright purple flowers.  There were a lot of people in the park on a sunny Easter weekend, but it didn’t feel crowded due to the size of the park.  The water in the pool was cold, so Deena, Deveny, and I sat on the steps soaking our tired feet and ankles, while only Joseph was brave enough to take the plunge.  His bravery was fueled by the need to retrieve our house keys which I threw into the middle of the pool just for fun.  I love being a dad.

We sat in the thick zoysia grass on a sloping bank in the shade of a stand of bottle brush trees and munched some juicy bratwurst along with roasted corn and cinnamon-coated churros and talked about how we hadn’t seen that kind of food in a long time.  The atmosphere at Streets Beach was so lively and fun that we stayed for several hours and took our time hiking back home along the river. We stopped for a while to listen to a youth choir singing praise songs on a small stage in the park.  When we reached our neighborhood beyond the Kangaroo Point cliffs, Joseph and Deveny continued on home while Deena and I stopped at a hair salon in the hopes that someone could cut my hair on short notice.  Within five minutes, I was in the chair sporting a black smock while a delightful girl from South Korea mowed my scalp close with clippers set for a crew cut, and she told us how much she loved living in Brisbane.  She met an Australian guy who traveled to South Korea frequently on business, fell in love, and moved to Oz after they were married.  It was fun listening to her stories while my grey hair flew from the tip of her clippers, and I’m now sporting a fresh buzz ready for church on Easter.

Grace Bible Church in the New Holland district of Brisbane was the fellowship with which we chose to worship on Easter Sunday, and it was the first time we didn’t have to Google, “English speaking churches” in over seven months.  The church was six kilometers away, so we summoned an Uber driver, who showed up a few minutes later sporting a suit and tie as he was on his way to church too.  Ten minutes later we were walking into a small, bright sanctuary with white walls and a sloped tongue-and-groove ceiling stained a rich honey brown.  The wall behind the altar was painted a dusty blue with a big rough-sawn pine cross standing in the corner. The lectern had a simple silver cross affixed to the front.  We sat in comfy pews, and many people came over to greet us including pastor Craig who was brimming with joy and purpose on a sunny Easter morning.  

My crew had a motley appearance with our pieced-together and worn travel clothes, and we were a bit concerned that we would stand out among pastel dresses and brightly-colored ties, but just about everyone at Grace was wearing jeans, and they couldn’t have cared less about how we were attired.  I’ve read that people who have traveled for a long time in countries where their native language isn’t spoken are overwhelmed with noise when they return home.  After months of tuning out conversations they can’t understand, they can all of a sudden hear everything around them clearly, and conversations are artificially amplified by understanding.  I can attest that this phenomenon is true because I experienced it at Grace Bible Church. Since Australians are generally friendly and enthusiastic, the sensory onslaught was tremendous, but the fact that our new friends were proclaiming the resurrection of our Savior along with their warm welcome to my little family made for an exhilarating time of worship.

The praise band was loaded with talent, and the congregation sang accompanied by guitars, fiddles, and piano:

Man of sorrows Lamb of God

By His own betrayed

The sin of man and wrath of God

Has been on Jesus laid

Silent as He stood accused

Beaten mocked and scorned

Bowing to the Father's will

He took a crown of thorns

Oh that rugged cross

My salvation

Where Your love poured out over me

Now my soul cries out

Hallelujah

Praise and honour unto Thee

Pastor Craig preached about the result of the Resurrection from the eighth chapter of Romans while the rays of the sun moved up the walls of the sanctuary highlighting the joy of the Good News as the hour progressed.

After the service, we spent a long time with a set of three brothers who loved to talk about travel, and it turns out their family was originally from Cairns, our next stop, so we got some good advice for our stay there.  Another Uber driver dropped us off at the grocery store near our house, and we walked home with bags of supplies to last the remainder of our time in Brisbane which has flown by much too quickly.  We missed our family and friends on this Easter, but the believers at Grace Bible Church welcomed us warmly into their family for a short time, and we were thankful for the opportunity to celebrate the greatest event in human history with our friends Down Under.

Our five days at number ten Grace Street in Kangaroo Point have been relaxed and revitalizing, and we’ve come to envy the folks that call Brisbane home.  The beautiful Brisbane River winds past cliffs, parks, skyscrapers, and bridges, and every time we head out for a hike along the banks, there are families everywhere enjoying their city.  We started our last day in the city with more school work and planning followed by a hike back to the river bank where we hopped the ferry for one more trip upstream to the North Quay dock and the Queen Street Mall in the center of the business district.  The majority of the mall is outdoors in a beautiful shady setting with large public art pieces on display and quirky shops interspersed among the global chains.  We strolled around for a couple of hours and enjoyed people watching on another sunny and cool afternoon. After the boat ride back to Kangaroo Point, we realized we were taking our last hike from the river to our neighborhood.  We loved our time in Brisbane, and after months of travel, it was refreshing to spend time with such friendly people speaking our language in a beautiful world-class city.