Pony Up, Boys!

I love hanging out with the boys. I can always count on a lot of laughs and learning something I didn't know previously. It is typically useless information but you never know when it might come in handy. 

So we are at a new restaurant [Pony's] around the corner from the office - Bethany, Martin, Shane, Phillip, John, Tim, and I - and we are having an adult beverage and munching on some entrées (Aussie version of appetizers) when an older couple walks in. Martin eyes them as they go to their table and states "They are American!" Bethany and I look at him incredulous and asked "how do you know?" His response was typical for a Brit "why because of they way they are dressed!" The elderly couple were dressed, dare I say, a little "loudly." He also insisted he heard them talking and definitely heard the accent of a Yank. After much ribbing, Martin decided he had to prove his point so he marched over to the table, leaned over and started chatting with the alleged tacky Americans. After several minutes, our conversation changed to a new topic whilst Martin was still talking away to his new friends. Martin eventually returned to his seat and announced "Well, I just made an ass of myself!" We all laughed and asked "do tell!" As it turns out the the couple was from Adelaide (South Australia). Bethany told him "wow, I would have kept that to myself." Meaning, no one in the right mind would admit to such a mistake. Then she turned and looked at me and said "except you." Sigh. Unfortunately, she is right. I do tend to tell on myself.

Maybe you had to be there but we found it hysterical that the British guy thought this couple was American because of the way they were dressed. We enjoyed making fun of Martin during the rest of the meal. Tim, Shane and John said they wouldn't expect anything less from a "palm." We haven't figured out exactly what that means yet. [Note to self: find out!]


As luck would have it, it started to drizzle, then pour as we were leaving. I reach in my bag and no umbrella. Shoot! It was a mad dash from awning to awning as we made our way to Military Road to hail a taxi. Tim, ever the gallant gentleman, stood in the rain to flag one down. Bethany and I made our way to the Four Seasons for a pre-dinner cocktail. 


Dinner was at a restaurant called Wild Fire at the Overseas Passenger Terminal. We enjoyed a great view of the Opera House and Circular Quay as we toasted our last evening in Sydney (well, hers anyway). Not surprising, there are things brewing that will certainly have me back down under in the next few months.

The Last Train to Clarksville

Last Tram Ride (If Only It Would Come)

Or more like the Australian version "The Last Tram to St Kilda"... this is the song going through my mind as I boarded the tram one last time to head for my former home, The Blackman. After spending the majority of the past ten months in Melbourne, I was suddenly struck that I wouldn't be doing this again anytime soon. I wouldn't be heading to my Gloria Jeans to grab my morning Voltage nor would I hop the tram to do my grocery shopping at Wooly's (Woolworths). Wow, I really wasn't prepared for the 'last' time. In fact, I almost jumped in a taxi rather than walk the four blocks to the tram that would take me down St Kilda Road. Strange how you can do something day in and day out without a thought until the last time. I will miss riding the trams of Melbourne. Such an inexpensive and fast way to get about. Definitely less stressful than driving and my use of colourful language has been reduced greatly as a result.


In addition, I had to bid farewell to my mates at Gloria Jeans St Kilda Road. A young Indian couple bought the franchise when I first arrived and only recently was able to bring their daughter from India to join them. When I was home, I would walk the 2 blocks for my morning brekkie and a friendly chat. 


I guess what they say is true, all good things must come to an end. I've enjoyed my time in Melbourne and consider it my second home (after Washington of course). Sad to say, I've never considered Reno home; only a place I've lived. 

Last Sunrise at Melbourne Domestic

So I boarded my last Qantas domestic flight to Sydney. I will also miss the ease of travel within Australia. You need about 30 minutes to check in and go through security. Of course, they haven't had anything bad happen so they only do the bare minimum of security. You remove your laptop, walk through a metal detector and scan your belongs. That's it. No removing shoes, liquids, coats, etc. You don't even have to show identification. Can't even tell you how many times I flew around Australia without any ID (not very wise at any rate but nevertheless I didn't give it a second thought). A quick hour and 5 minutes and you are landing at Sydney Kingsford-Smith, usually the farthest runway but the view is spectacular as you fly over the world famous Bondi (Bon-dye) Beach and the CBD. It is just as painless to get retrieve your bags although the queue for the taxi is typically long. One just has to remember where you are.


There are few things that I won't miss about Australia... like getting body slammed by those who aren't paying attention. I have been to a lot of places but never experienced the lack of courtesy when it comes to having people run into you, smoking, holding the door open, etc. Don't get me wrong, the Aussies are a friendly bunch and are very helpful when needed. Just don't expect a 'please,' 'thank you,' or 'excuse me.' It just ain't going to happen. Alas, the bubble has burst and I do know that even though the Aussie accent rocks, they are human like the rest of us. But it is comforting just the same. Americans aren't quite as ugly as others would have us believe. For all our faults, we are generally have better manners. 

Feels Like Home to Me

Expectations are funny things. As human beings, we have expectations for absolutely everything. Good, bad or indifferent, we 'expect' things to be a certain way. I was full of expectations for my [last?] trip down under. Me, I usually expect the worst, kinda a glass half empty kinda gal. So sue me. Someone has to make the happy go-lucky glass is half full people look good. Right? Right! That person would be me.

As I left home on Thursday, I expected something to go wrong. After all, there was 36 hours of travel time. No way I was going to get here without a hitch.

Leg 1: Reno to Los Angeles. Exit row, no one next to me. Took off on time, landed on time. Check.

Hello? Anybody here?

Leg 2: Los Angeles to Auckland. Well to be fair, I did have a 9.5 layover but didn't think much about anything going particularly wrong so expectations for this leg was it would be long and likely boring. Reality? Landed at terminal 8, needed to be at terminal 2. I decided it was a lovely day for a walk. Sunny and 79 was heavenly. Walked into the terminal and down to Air New Zealand. Ah-ha! The counter isn't open yet. (This I was expecting. I knew that United couldn't print the boarding passes and I assumed it would be closed when I arrived.) Not a big deal. Stood in line, plugged in the iPhone for awhile and chatted. The hour flew by. Then breezed through security (thanks to having status with United). Next stop lunch. And then it happened. My bubble burst. My good day gone bad. As I was talking to my sister, I grabbed my bag to go to the lounge on the second level. First, I drop my phone (the iPhone just isn't good for the shoulder/neck hold, it's too slippery). As it goes flying, I grab my bag and it doesn't quite feel right and sure enough, my laptop drops out onto the tiled floor with a distinct thud. Oh great. Not thinking, I drop my small backpack and realize my iPad is in it as it drops to the floor with a smack. Ugh (although honestly, that was not what came out of my mouth)! Fortunately for me, all electronics functioned normally despite my best efforts to break something. Fast forward 7 hours and waiting for boarding to begin. Waiting, waiting, waiting. 30 minutes after the process should have started and 30 minutes before take-off. No movement. No announcements. No nothing. Finally it comes. The moment all travelers dread. "We regret to inform you"... and my mind goes numb. After 9 hours I am not leaving. You see, there was a light on.  The mechanic cleared it quickly but unfortunately, the crew had to "stand down." What does that mean exactly? I'll tell you exactly what it means. It means they are not at the airport. They are back at the hotel chilling. Which means, now that the mechanic turned the light off, the crew can now commence the journey to LAX. Great. Surely they are like, next door to the numerous properties adjacent to the airport. One would think. However, you would be wrong. WRONG! No, they were in some Podunk suburb that I can't be bothered to remember but I do know that it took over an hour to arrive at the airport and another 30 for them to clear security. Oh, they tried to tell the weary gate agents (who were busy explaining over and over what was going on and took a lot, and I mean a lot, of grief from frustrated passengers) that they tried to clear security quickly but had to stay in line. REALLY? They have their own special line and I have watched crews countless times go to the front of the line (as it should be). No sense of urgency as I am watching the precious minutes of my 2.5 hours layover dwindle down to less than an hour. Take your time, I don't mind missing my connection in Auckland and then again in Sydney. Two hours later, we are finally on our way. Check.

Leg 3: Auckland to Sydney. I was in Auckland 36 minutes. This was wheels hitting the tarmac to wheels up. Whew! Naturally, my connection was as far apart as possible. I was first off the plane and on my way to security. Now this bugs me. I just got off a flight. Exactly what are you looking for? I never left the secured area. Do you think that I managed to construct a bomb or pick up a gun? Then some wannabe cop decides that I look like a threat to New Zealand and pulls me aside for additional screening, including explosive testing. Again, how and where would I get a bomb? I just got off one of YOUR namesake flights. Are you implying your own security is that bad? Worst of all, she then told me I'd better hurry or I would miss my flight. Thanks for the tip, captain obvious. I hightailed it to the gate, walked on the plane and they shut the door behind me. Check.

Approach into Auckland

Leg 4: Sydney to Melbourne. Ah, the leg that would finally get me where I needed to be. But first, I had the dreaded immigration and customs. After my last experience I was dreading it. I was expecting the worst and hoping for the best. Well, my usual mentality totally failed me. YEAH! The glass was indeed half full! I walk off the plane, and with my express pass in hand, I smugly walk past the crowds to immigration. Alas, the room is empty. No express pass needed. I put on a big smile walk forward and hand over my entry card and passport. The guy scans my passport, stamps it and tells me to have a good day. Insert enormous sigh here. WHEW! I walk down the stairs to wait for my bag and a customs officer walks over and asks for my passport and entry card. I had them over and she quizzes me about food. Do you have any food, she asks. No, I reply (trust me I learned this lesson a long time ago). Any fruit? No. (Isn't fruit a food? Didn't I just say No? Is this a test?) Any meats? No. Nuts? No. Plant material? No. Any shoes with dirt on them? No. Visit any farms lately? Why, no. I am a city girl, not a farm girl. She just looks at me. For a moment I forgot, no jokes with anyone who works for a government. My bad.  Finally she seems satisfied and stamps my card and hands it back to me. Amazingly, I got my bag (it was the 3rd one offloaded) and I made my way through customs. This time, I got to skip the x-ray part and the dog humping part! WOOT! 

Freedom! I proceed to Qantas domestic to re-check my bag. Easy, peasy. Then the agent asks if I want an earlier flight. Heck yeah! All this took place in less than 40 minutes. Next stop: Gloria Jeans. Check.

So what was I expecting when I touched down in Melbourne? I was expecting to feel surreal, like I was living someone else's life. But all I felt was the feeling of being home. The same feeling when I land in Portland or Seattle. I think it is official. I can no longer separate 'home' in the states from 'home' in Australia. Other than the long commute, it feels like home to me. 

The Pause that Refreshes

Which this [blog] is not. It is merely a blip as I bide my time before my much anticipated return to the land of kangaroos and koalas. Anticipated perhaps is a stretch. Probably more like the impending doom by my colleagues who nicknamed me the boomerang. As much as I wish I could say it is a term of affection, I cannot lie. It is because as hard as they try to get rid of me, I keep coming back.


After being home for a week, it was time to hit the road again. This was going to be a real treat – flying within the good ol’ USA and getting to come home on the weekend. WOOT! I was actually looking forward to a short flight within the contiguous 50 states and no immigration and customs to get hung up in. And I was organised. Sunday I managed to get everything done by 5pm. Yippee! This meant I could go to bed after The Amazing Race so I would get a good night’s sleep and wake up feeling refreshed at 3:30 am. Yeah, right! But hey, I did get a good nap in. What else could a person ask for?


Happily, I skip down the stairs and to my car. What a beautiful morning, why the sky is... dark and I can’t see a bloody thing, not to mention it’s freezing outside. Who the heck books a flight at 6am? A dumb ass, aka as me, that’s who. Ugh! Drive. Red light. Red light. Red light. Red light. Slow car. C’mon man, at least go 15 mph. Please, please, please don’t go to long-term parking. Of course, where else would you be going? Please don’t turn down the same... yes, okay. Patience. I’m working on patience. Thanks for the oh, so gentle reminder. Just keep moving. 15 minutes later (okay, I might be exaggerating here but it’s not like I’m the only impatient person on the planet or even in Reno for that matter). Finally. Grab the bag and head over to the terminal. Betcha can’t even guess what happens next. Yes. Somehow the driver in the slow car made it downstairs before me and is standing on the red carpet. Sigh. Oh well, at least there is only one person in front of me. Not like the economy line which was full of young adults with too much energy for o’dark thirty in the morning. Lucky them, headed to Mexico for spring break. But unlucky for all of us, several had incorrectly booked their tickets and their names did not match their passport. All three agents had their collective heads together trying to sort the mess as the lines grew by the minute. I finally was able to self-check in and waited patiently for someone to notice me and tag my bag so I could head upstairs. Alas, the harried agent noticed me and apologized for keeping me waiting. I laughed because she called me ‘Ms Premiere’ (a status level of United, which I’m not) but checked my ID and came around to put the priority baggage label on my luggage. She said to go ahead and leave it there. Sure, right. No worries. I am perfectly fine leaving my bag on the wrong side of the counter in the midst of growing chaos. So long, bag. Hope to see you again in Denver.


It seemed like a lifetime but when I got upstairs security wasn’t even open. Sigh. So I get in line with the masses. That’s right. You have to show ID and a ticket. The TSA agent checked my ticket and ID with a careful eye and magnifying glass. Then he informed me that I didn’t need to wait in the regular line, I should use the First Class line. Didn’t even know we had one but it really wasn’t that big of deal. It is never really a big deal in Reno. After all, it is Reno – it’s not like there is a lot of traffic in and out of the small airport. Then comes the undressing – shoes, coat, sweatshirt. Then unzipping the side pocket for not so quick access to the laptop. I never carry liquids or other sharp objects. So I proceed to push the belongs of the person in front of me into the x-ray machine. Par for the course. Next you stand at the metal detector waiting for the mall cop (oops, slip of the tongue... I mean the very valuable TSA officer... but can you blame me? Most look like someone you would run into at the mall) to wave me through. Then, inevitably, I am always behind the people who have to redress themselves standing by the x-ray machine. Sigh. More patience as I wait for people to move so I can collect my stuff and move away to put my shoes back on and place the laptop back in its place. Next, water and Coke Zero. And more then I get to wait some more.


I got to sit next to a very surly teenager who wasn’t anymore happy than I to be up that early in the morning but at least I was old and wise enough to know that sometimes in life you do things you don’t want to do. She was also not thrilled when I mentioned she couldn’t keep her backpack at her feet (we were in the first row). After giving me one of those looks, she grabbed her bag and threw it in the overhead bin. Yikes, was I ever that sullen? Nah, not possible. At least she managed to get a nice nap which is more than I can say.


Arrived in Denver with no issues which translated means when you land right-side up and walk off the plane it is a good flight. And... you’ve got to be tired of reading as I am tired of telling the story. Not really the end but it’s all that I have in me. TTFN.

You Can See the Forest Through the Trees

I decided that I like trees. Specifically eucalyptus trees. Maybe it is because koalas make their homes in these giant trees. Or maybe it is because you can actually see the forest through the trees. The woods around Australia are filled with eucalyt trees, although the koala is particular and will only eat the leaves and bark from 12 of the 600 species. They are big trees where the sun can shine through because they are not thick like other trees. They make great backdrops for sunsets and sunrises. And whatever. I like them. They are cool.

So, I’m sitting at a desk at the Four Seasons as I write this looking at the Opera House. And I feel that I can finally see the forest through the trees as I prepare to return home. As much as I want to be home, I can’t help but feel a little melancholy because I truly love Australia. The country is very diverse, beautiful, and filled with lots of opportunities to enjoy both the city and the countryside. I was up early this morning, going to Gloria Jeans located in the Wynard train station for my usual brekkie of a large, skinny Voltage and a low fat (ha ha) apple cinnamon muffin. Then I was off to buy some last minute Aussie items requested by those at home (Tim Tams, kangaroo jerky, boom-a-rangs, etc.). I hit the gift shops I know and love (those with authentic Australian made goodies, not the kind made in China). As always there is a dilemma. Do I need a pair of black Ugg boots? I mean I do have brown but brown doesn’t go with everything. And I do have the gift card for $75 that I keep forgetting to spend. It’s not like I can use it back home. And I’m not coming back. Yes, I do indeed need Ugg boots in black. Sold! After my second trip back to the hotel, I was back out and ready to walk the Harbour Bridge. It was a cloudy day, very deceptive as you sit in an air conditioned hotel room. You look out thinking it’s going to be cool but it is actually hot. Very hot. And sticky. Not to be deterred, I knew I wanted to visit The Rocks and Circular Quay since it would be awhile before I was back.

So goes my last day in Australia. At least I thought it was my last day for the foreseeable future but found out that I will be returning in April. Four weeks from now. Righty-o! All this time, I was convinced that something somewhere would go array and force me to stay. (It almost did happen but I was able to figure things out quickly and I am returning home as previously scheduled. Whew!) After a particularly tremulous week, I wanted... needed... a break. At home. So as sad as it was to leave this place, I was thrilled at the thought of sleeping in my bed (one develops a deep appreciation for ‘home’ after living abroad in a serviced apartment full of things that don’t truly belong to you). Don’t get me wrong – mine was new and very nice. The bed was comfortable and having weekly maid service was something I could get use to but it is not yours. You will always want something – pants, shirt, shoes, dish, book, pillow – something that you left behind. Then there is dealing with different plugs (always have to have an adaptor), different foods, toiletries, laundry soap, television channels, expensive internet connections; things that you don’t think about when you leave your comfort zone and venture into the unknown. 

But even knowing that I’ll be back, I’m happy to know there is a light at the end of the tunnel and it shines brightly in the US. I have little doubt that I’ll be ready to head back in a month (not the flying part as there really isn’t anything fun about a 15 hour flight). If not for the city life I enjoy, but for the warmer weather.

AND BONUS FOR YOU... MORE AUSTRALIA BLOGS TO ENJOY! 

I Love a Parade! The March of the Penguins

The last bucket list item

I did it, I actually did it! I made a bucket list of things to do whilst I was back in Australia and I was able to check off every single item. So what, you say? Big deal, you think? Well, it is. The first six months I did exactly nothing on my list. Sure, I did an odd outing here or there but I was completely focused on the job at hand. Maybe because I was here previously on holiday and had done all the touristy things you do on a vacation. Maybe it was because I was focused on the job at hand but the results were ‘all work and no fun’ for me. Just long days (and nights) of work. For this reason, I knew that I needed to make the most of my last stint down under.   

 Saturday was a day I had been looking forward to as much as the Great Ocean Road. We purchased tickets a good month in advance to go see the Penguin Parade at Phillip Island. Bob Miller, co-founder of Miller Heiman told me about it last year saying it was one of the most memorable things he's ever done (trust me when I say this man has done a lot of things!) so you might even say this was the reason I made a list of things to see and do in the first place.

In addition to the seeing the penguins, you also received entry into several other attractions around the island. We took off from Melbourne around 10:45 and started to make our way into the surrounding countryside. Of course, we had to make a few pit stops before we were even out of the suburbs – snacks, drinks, and the all important bathroom break. The conversation between Denise and her husband Joe was classic. Denise – “What do you mean you have to go? Why didn’t you go at the car rental place?” Joe – “I didn’t have to go then.” Carol and I just snickered from the back seat. This would be the first of several amusing exchanges as Joe chauffeured us to our destination. Poor guy had not one, but three female backseat drivers (technically four if you counted the navigation system which spoke with a strong female Aussie accent. Joe got so annoyed with it he had Denise turn the voice off after 10 kilometres). So you had to give him props as it is not easy to have backseat drivers when you are driving on the left-hand side of the road from the right-hand side of the car where everything is backwards. Let’s just say we had the cleanest windshield as he continually pushed the wrong lever when attempting to use the turn signal.

So cute!

First let me say it was a gorgeous day; a day that Goldilocks would have enjoyed – not too hot, not too cold – just right! Our first stop (that wasn’t for food, drinks or bathroom) was the Koala Conservatory. We entered through the gift shop and immediately started looking at the goodies. I quickly found a shirt (like I need another Australia shirt but whatever) and the most adorable stuffed koala (I know what you’re thinking and again I say what.ev.er!). So I decide which items I will purchase afterwards and reluctantly put my koala back on the shelf. But then I notice that Denise is making a purchase so I grab the exact koala I want and shirt and head to the register. I then spot something for Maddy which makes me look for something for Jameson and you know how that goes. Denise says go ahead so the three patiently wait whilst I buy more stuff that I didn’t need. Joe was debating about a tee shirt but had decided to wait until afterwards. Then it was another conversation about whether or not the one XL would still be there so Joe decides not to wait so he gets in line to buy it. Then we had to go back to the car. Then we thought we’d better use the restrooms. Then it was applying bug spray. Geesh, reminded me of the days when we were kids and travelling with the family.

Mother and baby

Finally, we get our act together to actually go see the Koalas. We wandered out through the pathways to the koala viewing areas. They build boardwalks high enough that you can actually see the cute little buggers. They have a tendency to be up high so from the ground they can be hard to see. Of course, they spend 20 hours a day sleeping so you have to consider yourself lucky if you find them awake. It was our lucky day as not only were several awake, we got up close and personal with a mom and her baby. Both were awake and hanging out on a branch just above the walkway. The look so cute and cuddly you are tempted to pet them but there are strict rules about touching them as they are wild and not used to being handled by humans (so they say but after viewing countless photos of the koalas being held by rangers and such I had to wonder). However, they do have very mean looking claws to hang on to trees and also know to bite to defend themselves. We had to be satisfied with being as close as you could be to a koala in the ‘wild.’ As we were circling around trying to get the best shot, the baby continually dropped pellets so you had to be very wary of walking directly underneath. We let Joe take the hits as he was the tallest and could get really good shots. Well, in theory because like children, they tend to turn their heads around so you miss the best pictures. In addition, we saw several birds, wallabies and fortunately no copper snakes. One can get a little paranoid when you see signs all over warning you to be on the lookout for snakes and you remember Australia has several snakes and spiders you don’t want to tangle with. You must remain wary at all times and not be crawling around in the grass trying to feed a wallaby (Joe!).

Churchill Island

Our next stop was Churchill Island, another island (duh!) connected to Philip Island by a one lane bridge. It is a working heritage farm established in the early 1800’s. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as the koalas but was very scenic and worth the effort of going. Joe, as it turns out, is a huge animal person and wants to take home every one of them. It also meant stopping and visiting every animal. It was your typical farm with horses, sheep, ducks, chickens, pigs, sheep, and turkeys. We had intended to have lunch but the cafe was closed by the time we arrived so we didn’t stick around much more than an hour as we were all pretty hungry at this point. We headed back up the road and stopped at a pub close to the koala place. We look at the menu and decide it is a good choice only to find out they weren’t serving for another 45 minutes. Sigh.

Carol, Denise and Joe

Back to the car we go and then decided just to go to the Penguin Parade site knowing there would be a cafe. But you guessed it, they weren’t serving yet either for 45 more minutes. But wait! Do I see yet another gift shop? Oh my, it’s a BIG one! [Insert big smile here]  Might as well browse and get goodies we don't need before having what would now be dinner. And yes, I bought another shirt (too cute to pass up) and a couple of small things for the kiddos. We traipsed back to the car (we decided to park in the farthest car park and the last parking slot thinking this would be the ideal location for a quick getaway at the end of the night) and back again to the cafe for food. Whilst the food was mediocre at best, it was food and it filled us up (and rather inexpensive for Australia and a tourist spot). Next on the itinerary was a film of the tiny creatures we’d come so far to see and on to the displays and information as the monitors showed the countdown to sunset and the main event: 20:48 (or 8:48 pm). I assumed the penguins were in getting ready for their nightly show and hopefully had set their watches so they wouldn’t arrive too early or too late. We ventured outside and started chatting with a rather cute park ranger named David. After awhile, he suggested a stroll along the back boardwalk before meeting out guide at 8pm. So we start to meander around and spot more wallabies (I forgot to mention these are smaller kangaroos earlier but you probably already know that) and the hundreds of burrows where the penguins make their home (both penguin and man-made). We arrive back at the building to discover the door is locked. [Insert explicative here]. Five minutes until meeting time and it was a 8 minute walk or better. Carol hands me her stuff and takes off running with me close behind her and Denise and Joe bringing up the rear, cursing David all the way. We all made it back on time with a sheepish David apologising profusely for the error (he didn’t realise the back door was locked). He was such a nice (good looking) bloke you had to forgive his error. He handed us over to our guide, another David (not as cute and married anyway). Once the group had gathered (all 10 of us – two people were late and I won’t tell you their nationality or I could be accused of stereotyping), he handed each of us a seat, binoculars, and a headset.

Penguin Parade (from website - no photos allowed)

We began our tour with the usual background and information about the littlest penguins in the world. At one time there were 12 colonies on the tiny island but when the British came, one of the blokes decided he wanted to go fox hunting so he had some brought over from the UK and they all but decimated the population of penguins. The one pocket that was spared was due to the remote location and managed to outfox the fox and persevere. In fact, the land around the colony was bought back by the government to make it a sanctuary and ensure the penguins continue to do what they’ve done for centuries. Finally, it was almost dark and we headed to the beach. It was great to be able to pass all the people in the stands and go front and centre for the best viewing. So we sit and wait. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before we spot 4 penguins coming out of the surf to the left of us. Everyone is in awe as they ride the surf to shore and look about before waddling up the shore. This is where they are most vulnerable from prey, even in the darkness. The penguins have keen eyesight at night and the colouring helps camouflage them as they make their way home. As we were looking to either side, an individual penguin pops up directly in front of us. It scurries straight for us and then stops. We all freeze; it is looking at us and we are looking at the penguin. It seems confused. The entire time the ranger is warning us to be still and not touch it. Eventually, I had to put the binoculars down because it was too close. It came within 6 inches of our outstretched legs. I held my breath; part of me wanting it to come up closer but part of me wanting it to turn and follow the others. Finally, it figured out where to go and waddled by us to join the general population. The ranger told us we were very fortunate as that happens three to four times a year. What? Me lucky? Take that, Murphy! For once, I did get to experience something remarkable. Sounds like a small thing but it was amazing to see one so close and personal.

Little Penguin

David then escorted up to the private viewing area where we got to witness traffic on the penguin super highway. This is a sandy path where hundreds walk buy on the way home from the office. There little legs are on average 6 millimetres long and for them, the commute would be equivalent to a human walking from Melbourne to Philip Island (around 150 kilometres). They stop periodically and look at us while we look at them. They sing to each other and to us and you can’t help but wonder what they think of the million tourists who come to watch them annually. We hang around until around 9:45. It starts to sprinkle and we have a 2 hour drive so we reluctantly head back to the car. There are several signs warning you to look under your vehicle before driving away as the penguins can be in the parking lot. We forgot to do this but luckily there was no tell-tale thump as we drove away.

Back to Melbourne we go in the dark and in the rain. Poor Joe was exhausted and it was hard to see where to go. The navigation unit kept giving us directions via the toll road which we could not use. There are no coin operated toll booths so if you didn’t have an electronic pass you had to drive on the ‘free’ motorway. I finally got out the trusty iPhone to ensure we were going the right way.

This was truly one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen. Most of what I’ve seen and done are man-made marvels, such as standing on The Great Wall of China or standing on top the Eiffel Tower but this has to be the top of the awe inspiring sights that nature has to offer (Great Barrier Reef is a close second). So I’m happy to say I can cross that off the bucket list. Now all I can say is ... Next?

Peeking inside a burrow

Joe and Denise

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Penguin Boardwalk

Burrows (nests dug by the males)

Wallaby

You Might as Well Relax... You're Going to Be Here for Awhile.

Wait... shouldn't that be awhilst? If while is whilst, then why isn't awhile awhilst? So why did we [Americans] change the Queen's English anyway? Was it simply out of rebellion or did we find the extra vowels to be unnecessary? Color verses colour. And what on earth do they have against 'z?' What did 'z' do to them? (BTW, they pronounce 'z' as 'zed' instead of 'zee'). Makes me wonder about Song of the South and Zip-a-dee-doo-da? Is it sung "Zed-a-dee-doo-da" instead? That just doesn't sound right. 


And there I go, off on another tangent. 


Tonight was one of the few times I went out to dinner alone. Usually there is someone around to eat with or I choose not to eat dinner (no lectures, please). There is something about eating a meal alone at a restaurant. Those who travel for business are probably used to it but that doesn't make it fun. I decided to go to an Italian restaurant and sit outside where I can people watch for entertainment. And thus begins my evening...


Eating is an event in Australia. If dining in a restaurant, you can count on a 2 to 3 hour meal. See the wait staff does not work for tips. They are well paid. Good on them but not so good for you. Oh, they will seat you right away, bring you a drink and take your order. They'll even bring your food in a timely manner. But after that, you are pretty much on your own. Good luck getting your check. Just trying to get someone's attention can be laborious at best. I suppose this is another one of those "stop and smell the roses moments" that we, as Americans, tend to ignore. Get in, sit down, slam it down, pay and move on. That's the American way, right? Maybe this is why we get the 'gollywobbles' as my mother used to call them. 


At any rate, I get to Olivo and find the place empty except for 5 other patrons. Normally, this would not be a good sign at a restaurant but it is only 4:30 so it is not the normal dinner time. In fact, they were still serving the lunch specials. Perfect. As expected, I am taken to a table and she returns almost immediately to take my order. Soon my Coke Zero is served followed by my garlic bread and spaghetti. Since there is no one to talk to, it doesn't take me long to finish my meal. Then it happens. The earth opened up and swallowed the waitress or an alien spaceship swooped in and took her to study her brain. Seriously, she was no where to be found. Patience, I told myself. What's the hurry? So I go back to people watching. Trouble is, there wasn't a whole lot of people to watch. And the ones I saw were mostly smoking. Just keep walking, nothing to see here and I don't want to smell your smoke. No offence. 


Yep, that's about all the patience I could muster (5 minutes. Maybe 3. Okay, so it was maybe 1. Whatever. Like you're perfect!). Sigh. I stood up and looked around. This place was empty. There was one bloke behind the bar so I headed over. And he turns around and walks into the back. So I wait. And wait. And wait. I go back to my table and think if I'm patient for a bit longer I will be awarded. Yeah, right. That didn't happen either. After an eternity of 15 minutes, I was finally blessed by an appearance from the waitress. She wanted to know if I were finished. She wasn't the brightest bulb in the ceiling as my plate was in the furtherest corner with the napkin and silverware all tucked nice and neatly on top. You would think the crease in my forehead from sleeping on the table would be another clue but whatever. And then a real conundrum... do I or do I not want dessert. YIKES! Of course, I want dessert after all I am in possession of the infamous dessert gene that has plagued my family for many generations. (Okay, I don't know that for a fact but I suspect it given my family's penchant for sweet things that cannot be a coincidence.) Giving into the temptation would mean at least another 30 minutes of meal time and I was ready to move on. But still, could I really resist? Then it came to me. Ice cream! Of course! I don't need to eat dessert in a stinking restaurant! I can stop and get rhubarb ice cream on the way back. Dilemma, shlemma. Problem solved, checque please! She started to leave when I handed her my credit card. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice... my mom didn't raise a fool. I was ready to pay before she even left the ticket. I want out of here. It's one thing to drag out meal time with a friend or colleague, completely not an option by myself. So in record time of 90 minutes, I was out of there and on my way to Movenpick for two scoops of rhubarb ice cream. Yes, I said rhubarb and it is delicious. 


Even worse than the wait is the price. It is unbelievably expensive in this fine city. I am grateful daily that I am here on business. The cost of food is high. Whilst fast food is more reasonable (but seriously, who wants to exist on that?), eating in a restaurant is costly. A typical meal at a cafe will set you back $25 to $30 (at home this meal would be $10 to $15). Needless to say, I don't eat at high end places often. Usually, it is when I am eating with the client or other colleagues who have a preference for a good meal. Me, I'm not so picky (or I am picky which is why I prefer the plain Jane meal verses a gourmet dining experience). But hey, at least you don't have to worry about leaving a large tip!