Vegas Time

It's that time of year when the clocks spring forward, the tulips bloom, the Irish celebrate and the girls go to Vegas.  While the latter may require much further explanation, March Madness certainly needs no introduction. 

This weekend I head to Las Vegas, Nevada with women who not only enjoy basketball but also follow basketball. It started in 2005 with an email chain and an idea about a girl's trip to watch the NCAA Tournament.  The initial trip culminated with a high roller suite at the Hard Rock Cafe Hotel, a few victories, a celebrity sighting, spirited pranks and many lasting friendships.  This year is our ninth annual trip. 

Most people do not think of Las Vegas as city to plan a vacation.  They envision the crowds, bright lights, debauchery, gambling (winning and losing) and money. The saying, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" obviously came from somewhere but for me Vegas is about a rite of passage. 

Each spring, I board a plane, walk down an aisle and sit anxiously for six hours for love of sport.  For my eight comrades and me, Vegas is basketball.  It's about spending time with talented and successful women who share a common goal - for their team to play in the Big Dance.  We arrive on Thursday and the initial start of the tournament decked in college gear - some of us fortunate our late 90s apparel still fits - and gather for a pre-game or in most cases post-game weekend strategy.  Should the reader forget we are women, we do arrange dinners, shopping and pool action but for the greater part of the time, we watch basketball.  We predict scores, ooh and ahh at heroic 3-point shots, hold our breath with four-second clock time outs and rest a sigh of relief when the clock hits 0:00 and the score is in our favor. 

Where else would it be acceptable for a alumni from the University of Michigan, Duke University, Michigan State University, UMass and University of Virginia, to sit around the same table and cheer on their team?  Let me give you a clue.  There are lights - lots of them but mostly those glowing from the LCD and HDTV screens in the sports books, there is food, gambling, free drinks (gambling does pay) and lots and lots of men doing what they do best on game day staring blankly at the great and powerful scoreboard. 

Las Vegas is the only place where a fan can be on sensory overload with East vs. West and Big 10 vs. PAC 10, Big East vs. that conference that no longer exists for 24-hours a day.  While it's true the odds are often against us, my friends and I live by this rule of thumb:

We are only as good as the next parlay and the next round of games.  We are mothers, wives, girlfriends and single ladies on the prowl.  In 2004, we started off the strip and in 2013 we own the strip.  There have been four marriages, eight babies, and a few missed trips but overall there have been many more W's than L's in the columns of life. 

Good luck to all your teams and remember school pride is at stake. 

To Nicole, Jess, Em, Hills, Cousin Liz, Cristina, & Jamie and Vegas Bill, thank you for being the best the City of Lights has to offer.  We may be short a few originals but it's great to be back - for the weekend. 

A stopover in Queenstown, New Zealand

On my final stop of a two-month holiday, I can think of no better place on earth to relax and contemplate my future than Queenstown, New Zealand.  A resort town located on the country's South Island, Queenstown is known for tranquility, adventure sports, outdoor activity (skiing in winter, hiking and biking in summer) and genuine beauty.  It is situated on Lake Wakatipu and is surrounded by breathtaking mountains most covered with clusters of towering evergreen tress and lush vegetation, while others peaks remain snow covered year round.  One mountain range seems perfectly named, the Remarkables.  The locals believe the early settlers named the range the Remarkables upon seeing the "remarkable sunset" on the mountains one evening.  I agree. 

Queenstown has a population of roughly 23,000 people but that doesn't count the influx of tourists from Australia and around the world in the peak winter and summer months.  The indigenous Maori population is very small in Queenstown numbering only about 1,300.  *It's suggested the Maori's arrived in New Zealand in the 13th Century AD from Eastern Polynesia.  This is a place where everyone knows your name and if they don't give it a day.  It's an appealing lifestyle on many levels if only the jobs paid a decent wage.  Salary workers, short-term holiday workers and backpackers make up the bulk of the economy.  My 25 year-old concierge told me he was "getting out" in the next month.  Here I thought he was moving to Auckland or Australia or something big and he informed me he was moving to Dunedin a simple three-hour drive.  Why Dunedin?  He can make more money, work less and ski more.  It sounds like the desired life of a Kiwi (nickname for New Zealanders) and maybe me. 

I first visited Queenstown with my friend Erin Garvey in 2004.  We were young, spirited and full of energy.  Having met on the John Kerry/John Edwards Presidential Election we developed a bond and love of travel.  After experiencing defeat in Boston on that cold November rainy night, we planned a road trip through the South Island of New Zealand.  It's hard to imagine all that has transpired in eight years.  Queenstown has changed.  I have changed and Erin is now married with a newborn baby girl.  John Kerry probably wishes he never met John Edwards and John Edwards is likely regretting his foray into politics. 

While Queenstown has added more restaurants, bars, shops and swarms of tourists, it still possesses the same allure and magic of a land forgotten.  It's why Hollywood beckons.  An artist could not possibly produce anything more awe-inspiring than the images of Lake Wakatipu and the mountain ranges.  Movies such as the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, Vertical Limit, 10,000 BC and Prince Caspian have all been filmed in Queenstown or nearby.  Just steps away from town, I could find myself completely alone away from the activity and in the presence of nature. 

Since my injured foot prevented me from a six-hour trek, I made the most of the easy grade walks.  I hiked from the Village of Kawarau on the shores of Lake Wakatipu for two hours pondering how I could get my father to visit here and buy a vacation home--for ME!  As if the gods were somehow listening to me, a fatigued out of shape version of me stumbled upon a golf course.  He could surely not resist these views and these prices (it's the only place the dollar fares well).  

I couldn't help notice the clear blue skies, the manicured lawns, magnificent homes and incredible views as I walked. Every direction produced a better snapshot.  A spectrum of blue reached from the shores to the middle of the lake contrasting with the trees and earthy tones of the mountainous landscape.  The lake is the focal point of Queenstown.  Kids play in inner tubes and swing from trees, locals sunbathe and picnic on its shores, people boat and swim and make the most of these warm summer days.  While the lake is appealing, it's cold.  Most people wore wet suits and after testing the temperatures on a dock one afternoon, it didn't take me long to figure out I would suffer from hypothermia rather quickly. 

The average air temperatures are 60-70F this time of year but there are spurts of 80s and 90s too.  In other words, this is not a place with predictable weather patterns.  I've been here four days and experienced spring, summer and winter all on one day.  This much I recalled from my 2004 visit and was well prepared for my 20-mile bike ride.  I dressed in layers and stuffed my rain gear in my backpack.  The bike proved more challenging than the walk but I couldn't resist the rolling hills and amazing views.  Even the wind and rain could not stop the flow of adrenaline.  I even contemplated skydiving and bungy jumping before my common sense caught up with me. 

What I find most appealing about Queenstown and what I appreciate about travel is the constant thrill of the unknown.  I find myself on a walk, the skies are clear, it's warm I am breathing fresh air and then the clouds descend and the rains fall.  My journey starts out with a quick bike ride to town and back and I find myself eating pizza at one of Queenstown's most famous haunts, Cow's Pizzeria, drinking wine and wondering how I might return back to my hotel in one piece.  It's about the undiscovered for me and the search for something different.  In Queenstown, I could be a tourist, ski bum or restaurant owner and people would treat me with the same kind of respect as a garbage collector.  It's the authenticity of the Kiwis that I find most attractive. 

Yesterday, my butt was sore from my bike ride and my foot swollen from my strenuous "stroll" the day prior so I figured I would write and taste test my way through Queenstown.  Here is my recipe for the perfect Queenstown stay:

Vudu Cafe serves the best Chai Lattes (in 2004 Erin and I drank chai lattes two times a day in search for the best - I thought I would give Queenstown's newest cafe a chance) and the most delicious desserts of which I gorged myself on throughout the day.  Don't miss the carrot cake. 

Captains makes the finest blue cheese and broccoli soup and New Zealand mussels

Eichardt's Hotel sample the mouthwatering oysters and tapas plates

Pog Mahones Pub to watch Notre Dame's demise, visit with Irish tourists and catch a sunset view with a local glass of wine or mug of beer.

*Pog's is also the best place to meet strangers and that I did--loads of them. 

My new friend Pete is a Kiwi living in Melbourne.  He's been all over the world and had some crazy stories to share.  He made me feel like a hermit.  I gathered a few insights into the New Zealand culture.  Pete is half Maori, half Scottish but I would have believed he was English or German too.  We had a great afternoon comparing the culture of the United States and the lifestyle of the average Kiwi. Life is here is simple yet complicated. 

We finished the evening after a few cocktails and live music on the wharf at Tatler's Restaurant where I should have ordered the Prime Rib but hesitated because I was in a pub.  I was wrong-Big Mistake.  The chicken was decent but don't miss the prime rib with horseradish-mashed potatoes.

I'm leaving for the USA today but not before I take one more stroll around the lake, breathe in the fresh air and thank all those who have given me an opportunity to experience this "remarkable" place.  It's not always the spot that you land but the journey you take.  In Queenstown it's the people, the food,  the sights and sounds of nature and a small slice of perfection. 

Ringing in the New Year in Sydney

Fresh off a few relaxing days in Adelaide, Patrick and I returned to Sydney where preparations were underway for the 2012 New Year's Eve celebration.  Angus and his darling daughter Ava greeted us at the airport and delivered us promptly to our home away from home for the next six nights.  Jill (New York not Darwin) sought out the perfect apartment for us to explore the sights and sounds of Sydney.  We would reunite shortly but not before I met up with Kelly Hughes another treasured friend from my Greek Island Contiki trip.  Think Jono, Pam, Tommy, Tristan etc.

Kel and I dined at a picturesque spot overlooking the highest arch of the Sydney Harbor Bridge.  The rooftop bar delivered a rare peak into the nuts and bolts and engineering of the bridge.  It's a known factor that I am an avid fan of said bridge and my Sydney friends work very hard to appease my desire to see the bridge whenever possible.  I last saw Kelly on her 30th birthday in New York City in December 2011 (Jill was there too).  I was glad to see her again so soon. 

The Glenmore Pub was packed with locals reveling in holiday cheer. It seems like no one works between Christmas and New Year's in Australia.  It's more like two weeks of paid partying.  I could get used to this lifestyle.  Kel and I ended the evening perched from a Sydney Harbors spot eating ice cream and agreed to make our 2013 resolutions count for something....More travel for sure. 

What's the best way to kick off the New Year's festivities?  Answer:  A fun/walk along the shores of Bondi Beach.  Patrick, Jill and I piled in a taxi and headed straight for the beach.  It was already crowded with families staking out locations to watch fireworks.  We made our way along the scenic path and enjoyed the ocean breezes.  It was hot but that's to be expected during Sydney's summertime.  The walk is slightly hilly with 360-degree ocean views that make the walk worth the effort.

Bondi is Australia's most famous beach. It's home to bikinis, backpackers, beautiful and wealthy people.  I gathered that fit bodies must accompany the glamorous life since everywhere I looked I saw abs of steal and protruding muscles.  Crowds of people flocked to the beaches and designated paths to get in their last bit of exercise for the year.  According to Wikipedia, Bondi is an Aboriginal word meaning water breaking over rocks.  That's more or less the scenario.  The beach is about 1 kilometer or (0.62 miles) long.  There are surfers, swimmers and sun worshippers filling a large portion of the beach with a handful of cafes and shops decorating the sidewalks.  Our walk produced great shots of spraying water, vibrant blue colors of ocean and gorgeous homes that I would be happy to live in if asked.  Please just say the word. 

Patrick diverted his efforts into preparing for a golf outing with Angus, while Jill and I finished our walk with lattes and brekkie (Australian breakfast) at a cafe near Bronte Beach.  We dawdled beachside for a bit before returning to stock up for our New Year's Eve soiree.  Since it's a well-known fact that I cannot cook, I left the grocery selecting to Jill.  We prepared (Jill cooked, I assisted) a plentiful meal complete with an arugula salad, guacamole, cheese, chicken sausage, prawns, and Australian wine. 

The Germans (Corinna & Ingmar) arrived around 8:00 pm in time for the 9:00 pm children's firework performance.  Aren't those Aussie's clever? Patrick and Jill played DJ on the stereo while we all bounced around dancing and snapping pictures of the Sydney skyline and streams of color bursting in the air.  With minutes to spare, we joined the rest of the partygoers on the roof of our building and counted down until Midnight.  The adult fireworks were very disappointing compared to my New Year's in 2010.  They lasted a mere 13 minutes but at $6 million a minute I can understand why a 30-minute display might be a bit excessive.  Nevertheless I loved seeing the sky illuminated with flashes of light, color and smoke.  The entire rooftop was hugging and laughing and saluting this superstitious number of a year.  After the fireworks, the celebrations dwindled and we all parted for bed and a fresh start to the New Year. 

Jill and I woke up bright and early ready to face the sun and heat.  Angus had recommended a new restaurant on the water in Potts Point and I wanted to start the year off right - with more ocean views.  Patrick having celebrated in spectacular fashion the night before would not be joining us but we invited our friends from DC who happened to be in Sydney for New Year's fun.  The Bear and the Bird is a must see spot.  Located on a yacht club dock, the restaurant is nestled in a port off the Sydney Harbor.  From our high top table, we faced multi-million dollar homes inland and outward a brilliant, glistening, beckoning sea. 

Since Jill had only arrived the day before, I was most excited to show her the Sydney Harbor and MY Bridge.  We changed clothes and made our way through the Botanical Gardens and around the bend of Macquarie's chair and BAM there in the billowing sun stood the Opera House and Sydney Bridge.  We rustled with the Chinese tourists to photograph the scene and headed to the docks of the harbor for a closer look. 

I don't want anyone to get the impression we eat all the time so please note that five hours had passed between our breakfast and this next part of the story.  Parched and sweaty from all the activity of the day, Jill and I settled into a table overlooking the Sydney Bridge where we treated ourselves to oysters and wine.  My meal was more about the oysters than the wine but they do go together nicely. 

The next day Jill and I wandered the streets of Sydney separately.  I learned a Starbucks barista makes $18.50 an hour in Sydney (maybe this could be my new career) and Jill learned walking for seven hours through the neighborhoods of Sydney can and will activate a foot injury.  Patrick who graced me with his presence finally had an opportunity to see a Koala and a Kangaroo up close...at the zoo.  He did see a "roo" up in the wild but I guess from 10,000 feet it doesn't count.  Since Jill bragged about her Koala cuddling in Queensland, I felt it necessary to try to make up for inadequacies in animal exposure.  I had no idea Patrick was such a lover of the wild.  We did capture a few adorable moments with the Koalas who were fresh off a eucalyptus high and took pity on us and flaunted their moves.    

Patrick and Jill reunited at the Woolloomooloo wharf and home of Russell Crowe, while I conducted more thorough research on the Sydney markets.  I threw in a Chinese chair massage for good merit.  We had to lie low in preparation for our big bridge climb on January 3 so neighborhood sushi seemed like the best meal for a calming night. 

The Sydney Harbor Bridge Climb

Knowing exactly what to expect on the bridge climb, I greeted the afternoon with enthusiasm while Patrick and Jill seemed anxious.  I took them to my favorite lunch spot on the Rocks (Sydney Harbor Pier) at a place called Peter Doyle's.  It's really one of the few places where you can eat outside and enjoy views of the Opera House and Bridge.  We hustled through our meal to reach the Bridge Climb check in desk by 3:45pm.  It was probably more time than Jill and Patrick wanted or needed and their nerves nearly got the best of them.  The gift shop sweatshirt caused Patrick to start to sweat after he read 1,332 steps would be involved and Jill's stomach started doing summersaults and she couldn't confirm or deny nerves or bad food.  I couldn't help find the humor in all of it. Patrick started regretting his excessive exercise that morning which included physically debilitating steps (as far as Jill and I were concerned).  

Alas, the moment of truth.  Our guide took 14 climbers into a room where we confirmed emergency contact information and participated in a Breathalyzer test.  No drunks permitted to climb.  If you ever find yourself on this climb, it will make perfect sense.  HA!

We all passed the test and paperwork phase and were then fitted with a climbers jumpsuit equipped with hooks and belt hoops.  There can be nothing left to chance.  Sunglasses and hats are the only items permitted on the climb and they must be securely attached.  If anything is loose or dangling it could fall onto the cars, trains or people using the bridge below. We suited up, received a security belt with more hooks and latches and then practiced a simulation of climbing a staircase on the bridge.  Our group successfully completed the task and we lined up to start the climb.  Jill ushered the group to the starting point and I followed with Patrick and 11 others behind me.  A few climbers from the UK, two couples from the USA (a 30th Birthday) and one honeymoon couple would make the climb with us.   

To me, climbing the Sydney Harbor Bridge is the ultimate Sydney attraction.  We enjoyed 360-degree panoramic views of the city, the Opera House, the surrounding landscape.  Standing on top of the outer rim of the Bridge with cars zooming below you, with 90 feet of water below that and perched 440 feet above it all is pretty awesome.  Our guide shared a few fun facts and figures that I could barely make out so let me provide you with a few from the website:

The Sydney Harbour Bridge is 3,770 feet long (1,149 meters) and 161 feet wide (49 meters) and 440 feet tall (134 meters).  The construction started in July 1923 and the bridge opened in March 1932.  In 1998, a private company ran the first public Bridge Climb and it's one of the country's top tourist destinations to date.  The New Year's Eve fireworks are also launched from the Bridge's center. This year a butterfly and a lip were the focal point of the display but we couldn't really see the middle center of the bridge from our rooftop.  People think it's scary to climb the bridge.  If you are afraid of heights, this is probably not right for you but the walk is easy, the steps more like railroad ties and it's certainly worth a few butterflies in the stomach to appreciate this experience. 

After an hour and a half climb and taking in breathtaking views, we descended the bridge and tore off our gear.  I am now a master climber since this is my second time.  I would do it again and again if only the price stopped surging.  Jill and I made some picture purchases and I bought an architectural poster of the bridge where I could insert our pictures.  I am very excited to hang it in the home I hope to have one day. 

Patrick suddenly courageous and independent planned to see a concert.  He said the venue was similar to something at home but the drinking age meant there were loads of 18 year-old over-served teenagers bopping about the theater.  The band was good and he preferred seeing a performance to chitchatting with Jill and me.   He also had an opportunity to explore a new area of the city- one I didn't even know existed so there's that! 

Our last few Sydney Days

Jill and Patrick were clearly ready to go home.  Jill missed her dog Farfel and her apartment.  We have been traveling for nearly two months and Patrick had never really traveled in this manor before and so far from home.  I wanted to show them one fantastic last day.  We took the ferry to Manly Beach to catch a few rays of sunshine and a seaside lunch.  Both my fellow travelers were agitated at the walk I took them on before feeding (Jill was sick, Patrick annoyed).  Neither liked that I walked significantly ahead of them (I was trying to hurry them along) and I sensed it was time for me to let them be.  Patrick darted back to the city for souvenir shopping while Jill and I napped on the beach before returning to the city.  Manly Beach is quaint and normally less busy than Bondi Beach.  Since it was still holiday time, all the beaches were packed with teenagers and families not making it the most relaxing of times.   

Our last night in Sydney, my friend Kelly took us to a neighborhood called Newtown, which fashions itself a Greenwich Village type of area.  It has fun bars and great food with an underlying seedy/trendy element to it.  Our friends from DC caught up with us for their last night as well and we toasted to the end of a trip, old friends and new and more importantly the good fortune that we have to be able to experience travel, culture and time together. 

Our Roundup 

Jill endured sleeping on a couch for six nights.  Patrick adopted a new sister (Jill) and another mother (me).  Patrick finally acknowledged the existence of  the spreadsheet (the document I keep to track expenses) and Jill and Patrick placated my cleanliness issue by sharing a bathroom.  I learned it's personally challenging for me not to control every situation and I most appreciated Jill's adaptability throughout the duration of our travels.  She had to deal with two Glynn's.  She thought I was particular but after spending time with Patrick acknowledged maybe it's a family thing.   

We all have our quirks, our issues, our concerns, our way of living our lives.  Travel brings out the best and worst in people but being able to share the my travel experiences with a dear friend and my brother is special.  I can purchase all kinds of clothing, artwork and crafts but I cannot put a price tag on memories.  As my childhood friend Michelle informed me when I called to bitch one day, "life is short, make the most of your experiences.  You never know when it will all be taken from you."  She is right.  At the end of the day, the only thing that matters is the people you meet and the experiences you share.  If all else fails, eat Tim Tams, they make everything better. 

Now I am off to Queenstown, New Zealand to create a few more memories before my return home. It should be noted I live to travel. 

New Year's with Corinna, Ingmar (the Germans), Patrick and Jill Straus

 Kelly from Contiki, Madalene and her husband Michael (friends from DC)

 Manly Beach

 The Sydney Bridge Climb

 Our Koala

 Angus and Patrick after a day seaside golfing

 The Roos

 The Opera House

Christmas in Sydney to Adelaide - Australia

My four days of freedom were only slightly interrupted by the arrival of Patrick, my brother.  This is the same brother who would not normally venture to a foreign land 20 hours away and not with his sister of all people.  Everyone can exhale. We both survived in spectacular fashion. 

After a herculean effort to make his flight from San Francisco to Sydney, Patrick arrived jet lagged and in need of food.  We ventured straight to my favorite spot - the Sydney Harbor.  It's a tradition that I started with me, myself and I on my very first visit to Sydney in 2004.  Upon my arrival in Sydney, I go directly to Starbucks, grab my coffee (now a whopping $7.15 for a Grande Frappuccino) and do not stop until the bridge and opera house greet me with open arms.  It struck me that Patrick did not seem as impressed with my routine but maybe a 22-hour flight and 80 degree heat will do that to a person.

As this is Patrick's first time in Australia, I wanted him to share the appreciation and I had for this incredible city.  We taste tested the Mercantile Hotel's burgers, a town pleaser and beer and Patrick retreated to his hotel for a whopping 15 hours of sleep, while I visited with New York friends for dinner at Manly Beach. 

Finally, the big day arrived and Santa located Patrick in Sydney but somehow neglected my stocking--typical I suppose.  My dear Australian friends Angus and Maryam invited the foreigners to a Christmas barbeque Brazilian/Aussie style.  The weather did not cooperate but who can complain about 70 degree temperatures even if it's raining.  Within moments of our appearance, Maryam's brothers visiting Sydney from Brazil conjured up cherry cocktails and mouthwatering (truly) bites of seasoned beef.  The booze and beef flowed throughout the afternoon and we spent a lovely day chatting about politics, guns (right after Connecticut shooting), the U.S. economy, travel and family.  When I first experienced an Aussie Christmas in 2010 with Jono and Jill, I figured Jono's mother was either a master cook or a glutton for punishment but now that I've eaten my way through another Christmas, I've concluded an Aussie Christmas warrants overindulgence.  This Christmas afternoon we consumed eight kilos of meat (17 pounds), a case of wine, two cases of corona, two boxes of scampi, half a ham, a salad, potatoes and somewhere in between the courses of various cuts of meat, we disposed of a cheesecake.  A cast of characters joined in our demise- friends of Maryam and Angus who stopped by for a spoonful here and there but mostly the core group of eight of us made for a silly afternoon and an even more dramatic morning. 

Barossa Valley

I continue to make this mistake and maybe one of these days I will learn but I should never ever book a flight or get on an airplane the day after any type of celebration.  Boxing Day here in Australia is a holiday for a reason.  People need rest and recovery time after Christmas festivities.  Instead I found myself at Sydney airport early in the morning dry heaving and wishing I had not left my Excedrin in the extra bag at Angus' house.  Patrick seemed to be in much better shape and even enjoyed his first Pie Face experience at the airport.  It's still foggy but I boarded the plane to Adelaide and even managed to sit in my seat for a few minutes before bolting to the bathroom in what would be come my craftiest move to date.  Pleading motion sickness the flight attendant found me an empty row to sleep off my massive hangover.  It's important to note, Patrick left me to my own devices, which worked to my advantage.  I awoke minutes before landing, fully covered with a blankie and my head resting gently on a fluffy pillow (a rather comfy pillow for an airplane) and a much-needed ginger ale at my side. 

An hour and twenty minutes later, Patrick and I arrived in the Barossa Valley, a famous wine region outside of the City of Adelaide in South Australia.  I faired the transfer ride rather well but missed on an important opportunity to converse with our driver--my favorite activity. We stayed at a beautiful resort, (the Louise) situated on a vineyard and home to the top restaurant in the region.  Patrick pointed out the obvious.  He much preferred visiting this hotel with a significant other but would settle for me. 

The Barossa Valley population is small with only about 200,000 residents and an area of about 32 miles wide.  It consists of 85 cellar doors and more than 100 wineries.  The Mediterranean temperatures are perfect for grape growth and wine production with warm, dry days and cool nights.  After sweating for nearly three weeks, Barossa proved to be a place I could finally enjoy a day in the sun.  Patrick made the most of our first day in Barossa hitting the wineries by bike, while I spoiled myself with cheese and sunshine and a nap on our terrace.  Our tasting dinner at the Appellation was equally delightful. The chef prepared the meal with local and seasonal produce.  It was just a shame I overdid it on Christmas.

Our time in Barossa was quite peaceful.  We enjoyed a wine tasting day where we visited some of the regions (and Australia's) best vineyards:  Henschke Cellars, a high-end, family owned winery in Eden Valley; Yalumba, our favorite and also family owned with delicious shiraz and cabernet sauvignon; Rockford, an old fashioned stone tasting room with great sparking reds; Hentley Farms, Peter Lehmans, a winery with decent wine but gorgeous grounds and Tsarcke's, a winemakers successful experiment with shiraz.  Shiraz is the wine of choice (Syrah to the rest of the world) but the area turns out some great bottles of Grenache, Tempranillo, Cabernet and Riesling as well.  A few of the wineries produce a sparking red not to be confused with a Rose but it's the Barossa Valley's answer to black gold.  A small amount of sparkling red is released and they are typically gone by the end of the month.  Harvest in Barossa occurs anywhere from the end of March to mid-April depending on the weather.  Tourism and wine are the mainstays of the Barossa Valley and after sampling some of the best and worst I can see why.  Even the less known varieties and labels were excellent. 

The Balloon Ride

I have a bucket list.  It gets smaller each year but as a planner I like to check things off the list.  I've been trying to fly in a hot air balloon for about four years.  It seems Mother Nature needs to provide clear skies and mild winds in order for balloons to fly safely.  Alas, in the lobby of our resort, I scan a brochure of a multi-colored balloon and an opportunity to fly high above the Barossa Valley.  I asked Patrick if he was interested and he clearly didn't seem to be as excited as I was but agreed to come along for the ride.  With a pick up time of 3:45 am, it's tough to appreciate the experience on such little sleep but with the momentum and clear skies in my favor, I savored every minute.  Our guide drove us around to a few locations to test the wind speed and when we located a spot for launch a group of 12 of us nervously awaited the next step. The balloon was unrolled from its packaging bag and a massive fan filled it with air while the basket was tilted over helplessly awaiting passengers.  Keep in mind it's pitch dark and now approximately 4:45 am.  It took about 30 minutes before the balloon took shape and the basket could be pushed upright. 

The 12 strangers and fast friends climbed into the bucket by section putting our lives in the hands of our pilot, Captain Justin.  He pulled on some strings firing up the balloon and we began to sway side to side.  It was time...up, up and away we went soaring over farms, meticulously manicured vineyards, homes, kangaroos, roads, hills and valleys of the Barossa.  The best seat is the house is always the front row, the best apartment is the Penthouse and the best view is unobstructed.  In other words, the view from the balloon suited me perfectly.  The sun peaked through the clouds announcing a new day.  We snapped a few shots and the sun disappeared as quickly as it presented itself.  It would have probably made for brighter pictures but the scenery was remarkable either way.  The ride only lasted an hour, the experience a lifetime.  The smile on my face said it all but the pounding of my heart made it more real, more magical.  Our powerful landing had us skating on farmland, as our balloon was not quite ready to stay grounded.  The comment provided by our fellow British traveler and directed at Patrick said it all, "You looked like you were going to shit yourself." 

After our successful voyage, we celebrated with a breakfast of champions including champagne, local cheeses and meats, quiches, pizzas and tea and coffee.  The air still cool but the sun fighting through the clouds blanketed us with warmth.  Another adventure to cross off the list but more importantly another dream realized.  I loved it. 

Adelaide

A small city located in South Australia, Adelaide has a population of about 1.2 million and is the fifth largest city in Australia.  The British founded Adelaide in 1836 but there are people from all over the world living in the city and its suburban parts.  In 1838, six German families landed in Adelaide having left Germany to avoid religious prosecution.  Most of these families headed to Barossa to make use of their wine making and agriculture talents.  There are also, Italians Scottish, Vietnamese and Greeks calling Adelaide home.  It wasn't hard to figure out why Adelaide was coined the City of Churches.  Walking around the Central Business District and the surrounding areas one would be hard pressed to not find a church on every block.  The irony being the last Census in 2011 found Adelaide one of the least religious cities in all of Australia.  Most the population identifies itself as Christian with the largest denominations being Catholic, Anglican, Uniting Church and Eastern Orthodox. 

Most Adelaideans work in the healthcare or social service arenas but the area is very well known for its universities, education and sports.  There is also a large manufacturing base present.  There are some international banks in the Central Business District and lots of shopping opportunities.  I most enjoyed my visit to the Central Market where I sampled lots of local produce.  My new favorite dishes are Bircher Muesli and passion fruit swirled with a delightful Greek yogurt.  It's not like I ever find myself lacking for meals but this market filled with fresh fish, meat cuts, Thai massage, souvenirs, ethnic spices and dishes could make even the most healthy eater get a little crazy.  Somewhere between Bali and Australia I became obsessed with finding the perfect bowl of Muesli, a breakfast meal with rolled oats, fruits and nuts and you can have with milk or yogurt.  Adelaide proved to be the winner.

In Adelaide, Patrick and I met up with my friends known to most as the "Germans."  I met Corinna and Ingmar on my last trip to Australia in 2010 on a tour along the Great Ocean Road (Melbourne).  Since our spontaneous meeting, the Germans have visited NYC (Corinna twice) and I have gone to Hamburg, Germany.  Here in Adelaide we meet again.  It's comforting and personally rewarding for me to have friends all over the world.  I get a kick out of Corinna's planning and Ingmar's calming ways.  They are beautiful, kind and sincere people and I am fortunate to call them friends.  We celebrated our Australian reunion over some fine wines and food South Australian style. 

Our inaugural trip to South Australia provided me (and I expect Patrick) with a different outlook on Australian life.  People move at a slower pace, there isn't the hustle and bustle of the big city and food and wine is part of the daily life not just for celebration.  People live in towns with a population as small as 20,000 and then commute to Adelaide or surrounding areas.  Adelaide is situated between the Indian Ocean (St. Vincent's Bay) at the Adelaide Hills and the charming River Torrens runs through the heart of the city giving way to parks, gardens and lots of open space for running, biking and picnicking.     

Christmas with Maryam, Patrick and Christoper 

 Christmas with the group

 In the Barossa Wine Valley

 The Balloon filling up

 A Kangaroo on the Vineyard grounds

 The Central Market - Adelaide

 The River Torrens - Adelaide

 Glenelg Beach, Adelaide

The Top End - Australia with Jono & Jill

I've arrived in Darwin, Australia and have left Jill to her own devices in Cairns/the Great Barrier Reef.  We will reunite in a few weeks in Sydney but not to worry I am visiting very dear and now very longtime (10 years) friends Jono & Jill Pytko. I must have impeccable timing because I last saw Jono & Jill for Christmas two years ago in Lithgow, Australia and it still rivals one of my best memories to date only to compete with their Scottish wedding in 2008. 

Jono and I met on a Contiki tour to Greece in 2003 and I can honestly say that trip has blessed me with some incredible friendships.  I expect to see a few more friends from that trip in the coming weeks in Australia and of course there is my travel partner in crime Pam Manz, a former Chicagoan now Calgarian who puts up with my accidents and me every two years. 

Jono & Jill moved to Darwin nearly two years ago for jobs -- Jono works in aviation and Jill is a dentist.  Aussie's call Darwin the Top End because it's the top of the Northern Territory (a territory not a state-different governing rules) in Australia.  It's also the top of the continent of Australia but let's not get technical.  Darwin has that old city charm where mom and pop stores still exist but I couldn't figure out it was on its way to a slow death or ready to burst onto the stage.  There are a few lovely apartment complexes, restaurants and shops but for the most part it needs a revitalization plan.  It's an incredibly diverse city with a population of 200,000 people.  Many of Jono & Jill's friends hail from all over the world and are highly educated working in fields specific to Darwin.  The city is considered the gateway to many Asian countries and it's a four-hour flight to Singapore, India and just two hours to Bali.  Jono said that if tourists made Darwin their first and only stop in Australia that they would truly have no concept of the beauty, diversity and economic appeal of the country

Many folks work in aviation, real estate and in the mines (uranium, gold) but the entire Northern Territory is sparsely populated.  The Australian Air Force is located here and provides a vast number of jobs.  During World War II, Darwin was decimated by the same fleet that destroyed Pearl Harbor in the United States. The city served as the Pacific base for Australia and also the Americans.  What could completely transform Darwin and is the talk of the town is the construction of a new pipeline.  Most reason this will transform the area and finally put Darwin on the map.  Prices are already ridiculously high.  An average meal is $50 for one, a beer cost $9 and rent is $2800 for a two bedroom (and I contend somewhat in the middle of nowhere).  I assume prices will continue to rise but I hope it means a higher quality of goods and merchandise will follow. 

Darwin is a beautiful city situated on the Timor Sea and Arafura Sea (Indian Ocean meets the Pacific Ocean) but for most of the year you cannot swim in the water.  There are jellyfish in the wet season (now) and saltwater crocodiles year round.  It seems a shame that in this very hot and humid climate that people must restrict swimming to pools or sea walled areas for safety.  It's hot here year round but the humidity increases during the wet season.  The soil is a rich reddish orange color the vegetation is very green for the moment.  It apparently gets quite dusty and the colors change to brown in the dry season (May to September).

In the Northern Territory, there is a sizable indigenous population of Aboriginal Australian people.  They live in surrounding areas designated by the government as well as nearby islands.  It is believed the Aboriginal people migrated from Africa and Asia 70,000 years ago and made their way to Australia 50,000 years ago.  While there is great diversity among the Aboriginal tribes, their language and customs are being endangered.  There were more than 250-300 languages spoken and now all but a few exist.  The Aboriginal population continually fluctuates as there were an estimated 1 million at the time of colonization and as few as 100,000 in the early 1900s.  It's challenging to count these groups in general and the last census puts their recovering numbers closer to 500,000.  Similar to other countries with indigenous populations, Australia has struggled with the Aboriginal population since the Dutch and British first arrived.  Today, Aboriginal populations are still segregated and closely monitored by the government.  They can vote and many participate in politics but the vast majority I saw were wandering the streets - harmless but not a part of functioning society. 

After a day of city sightseeing, Jono and I went crocodile jumping (crocs don't actually jump it's really swimming but it's a better visual).  There are crocs everywhere in the Northern Territory and we visited a local river where there are thousands of saltwater crocs living and mating.   It was pretty amazing as we came about a foot from a crocs mouth (don't worry we were in a boat) but we were so close we could see the inside of the mouth and sharp, biting teeth (see below).  Apparently, crocs live until they are 100.  The female crocs deliver about 40 babies from about 60 eggs and there are many more female crocs than males.  The males are busy during this time of year impregnating several females.  The saltwater crocodile is the largest of all living reptiles and will attack and kill humans.  I learned very quickly that if I ever come face to face with a crocodile the smart thing to do is remain motionless.  Crocs sense noise and will attack the revelers.  I'm not sure if confronted with a croc that I could stand still or float quietly which is why seeing the inside of a crocs mouth provided me with the right incentive to stay away from any swimming in Australia.  Saltwater crocodiles can be found in freshwater swamps and rivers in the wet season and the tidal mouth of large rivers or even the sea in dry season.  Our guide told us that crocs fight for territory and that dominant males can occupy large stretches of rivers and streams.  The males we enticed with slabs of beef were nothing I would want to encounter on a daily swim. 

As this is the Northern Territory and it's a bit of a red neck place, Jono wanted to give me a true picture of the region.  We entertained ourselves with a stop to the Humpty Doo bar.  This place could be credited for the world's best dive bar.  It's part scary, part unbelievable and mostly an eye-opener as to how many live outside the city.  I've never seen so many tattoos, long untamed beards, curly or hook mustaches, big bellies, bad hair and lots of smoking and drinking.  It was a fascinating experience and made our return to Darwin all that much more welcoming.  It gave new meaning to the definition of "hick" or "rough around the edges."

Camping and outdoor activity is very popular in Darwin.  As Jono and Jill indicated, there isn't great shopping and not much to do so you either travel or stay active.  We loaded up the truck and headed about an hour and a half to Litchfield National Park where we finally cooled off in spring-fed falls and pools.  We jumped off slippery rocks and swam in the Buley Rockhole, worked up an appetite and ate a lovely picnic lunch before the sky gave way to pounding ran.  We swam in a quarry at Florence Falls where we exhausted ourselves swimming against the current to feel the beating water.  It was the perfect way to combat the heat and see a different side of Darwin.  The cascading rocks, rushing water and natural wildlife really provided great fun and a beautiful setting with new and old friends. 

I had a fabulous time catching up with Jono and Jill and meeting their friends Chae and Andy.  Somehow the five of us spending the day frolicking in the sun gives me hope that our international friendships could give way to bigger and better things. Jono hails from Australia, his wife Jill from Glasgow, Scotland, Chae from Japan, Andy from Edingburgh, Scotland and me from the USA.  It's what I appreciate most about travel.  Meeting new people hearing their stories and incorporating their visions and ideas into my daily life. 

The time always goes by fast but I know I will see everyone again if not tomorrow soon enough. 

Off to meet Patrick (yes my brother) in Sydney and celebrate another fantastic Aussie Christmas.