[Ed. Note: Here’s one more quick word from the Boy…]

So, we spent 13 1/2 hours on a plane. We took off at 9:30am on Thanksgiving morning, and landed at 9am – on Thanksgiving morning.

Luckily, there was a bar on our flight back to America.

Dinner and a movie, a couple hours at the bar, a long nap, another movie, many more hours at the bar…hey, it made our 38-hour long Thursday go by just a little faster than it might have otherwise.

And now we’re home. We circumnavigated the entire planet in 88 days, hit something like 22 different countries, snuggled numerous animals, drank lots of local alcohol, ate some interesting food, and saw some crazy stuff.

And we’re home. Real life is going to be hard.

 

One could argue that this entire 3 month adventure has simply been the longest route home from a vacation in Morocco….with quite a few layovers in between.   Sadly, the 3 months are finally up and it is time to actually go home to reality and haircuts.  [Ed. note: I see you wife, throwing shade…] But not without one more layover story.   Our final routing back to America took us from Sydney to Seoul in the evening and we didn’t leave Seoul until the next morning.   This sounded like a really good opportunity to discover all the wonders of the Skyteam Lounge for hours on end…until Anthony Bourdain came along.

One day shortly after our wacky round the world flights were booked, I stumbled upon a new episode of the Anthony Bourdain show “The Layover”.   I don’t usually watch it, in fact the only episode I had previously seen was when he came to Atlanta and Alton Brown took him to the Clermont Lounge (aka where strippers go to die…), but this episode peaked my interest.   Anthony was going to teach you what to do with a 24 hour layover in Seoul.   With a less impressive but still lofty 11 hour layover in my future, I tuned in to see what could be better than free flowing cheap wine and stale crackers that usually await me in a Delta club room.

So it is with complete seriousness when I tell you that I 100% blame Anthony Bourdain for the fact that I was freezing in some random part of Seoul, attempting to relearn my chopstick skills that were so strong 3 weeks ago, but were now being put sorely into place by the waitress who delivered me a fork of shame not 2 minutes into our Korean BBQ meal.  While he promised me this city was teaming with professionals young and old who went out to dinner and then drinking and onto karaoke each weeknight (so many that the traffic on Tuesdays and Wednesdays was noticeably light with less cars on the road…), we spent 2 hours in a taxi from the airport and when we asked the front desk where to have a drink and do karaoke, they told us that “Koreans don’t do that…”

We aren’t ones to take no for an answer however, so after the questionable dinner (I will be happy to never experience kimchi again in my life, seriously…) we started wandering the streets in hopes of stumbling upon the promised karaoke bars on each corner.  And we wandered…and we wandered…and it started to snow.   (Now’s a good place to point out that our luggage was checked straight through to home, so we were braving this winter day in our carry on sweatshirts and Aussie weight clothing…aka we were once again wholly unprepared for the reality of actual life and climates.)

Snow was the downfall of this layover.   We gave up.  I’m so sorry I can’t end this blog with an epic Korean karaoke battle late into the night, but we caved.   We went to 7-11, bought a couple Korean beers, and drank them in our hotel room with the heater blasting until midnight.   Then we wished each other Happy Thanksgiving, started a timer, and went to bed on what would be the longest Thursday ever thanks to a flight home that crosses the International Date Line and had us landing at home a hour before we left Seoul…

 

• North of Cairns is magical. It has tropical beaches, rainforests, animals, the Great Barrier Reef…and the people are relaxed as anything.
• Daintree is a really accessible rainforest. Looks like there are a lot of hikes (we did none because beach!) and waterfalls and animals and stuff
• We did find a 5m croc in the river, but only one
• I don’t really know why I love Wujal Wujal so much, except that it is a large waterfall, set in the rainforest, hard to get to, no one is there, the surroundings are awesome, even when it flowing “lightly” it’s a good looking waterfall, the pool is giant (and dangerous), you can climb up to it or not, and it is incredibly peaceful as well. In another 12 years I’ll say hello again.
• Kangaroo Island’s koala population was cut from 30,000 to something like 13,000, which I think made finding them a lot harder. [Ed. note: This is because the koalas on the mainland got the clap and they have been shipping healthy Kangaroo Island koalas over there…cannot make this up.]
• That island though, at night, oh man – drive slow, keep your eyes peeled, go hiking around dusk, and every animal except a platypus will be out to play everywhere you look.
• The Great Ocean Road is one of the highest-rate scenic roads in the entire world for a reason.
• I’m glad we took our time on it, because it allowed for dirt road driving through the rainforest for an entire morning.
• The only animal, besides a platypus, that I didn’t see in the wild was a wombat. But the area all around Kusciuszko has lots of wombat signs (and some roadkill wombats, sadly), so I know they’re out there…
• We were driving along the road up there, and boom. Emus. Just chilling. Who sees wild emus eating on the side of the road? This guy. Combine that with the cassowary She found us, and the ostriches we saw in Africa a few years ago, and we’re doing well finding wild Struthioiformes [Ed. Note: Fancy name for big, weird birds I assume?] (kiwis and rheas are all that’s left to find!)
• Pebbly Beach has kangaroos. On the beach. They live in the forest and come out at dusk. And they have no problem being cuddled and petted as they munch on some greenery. Cuddly kangaroos on the beach.

 

Photos – because after three weeks in a country…

And where we’ve been so far around the world…

And all the stops!

[Ed. Note:   I really wanted this to be another awesome installment in the unintentional series, but no opera was playing and we had to see something well known and English instead.   So instead, we’ll just let the Boy wrap up the final days in this city he planned out for us…]

Another country, another opera house.  Sadly, our timing here in Sydney didn’t work out to see an actual opera, just a play instead.

So, we went to a play at the Opera House. And it was in English. And the play was Hamlet, something I think every high school student worldwide was read (hopefully) [Ed. note: Not the Girl…moving high schools halfway through meant I did lots of books and plays twice and most of the classics not at all…] and probably written a paper on as well.  So there’s not much to be confused about, nothing to get lost in translation (even though the actors were Australian), nothing for me to interpret. It was Hamlet, they did a decent job at it, I enjoyed it.

I will say that the guy playing Hamlet could have a side gig doing Rob Coddry impersonations, and the dude playing Guildenstern bore a striking resemblance to James Franco.

Enough about that, we had time in Sydney, so what else did we do besides get my wife surfing lessons and see Hamlet? We climbed a bridge!

Yeah, that’s right – since 1998, you’ve been able to strap on a harness and climb some 1930’s Australian steelwork, almost 50 meters above some well-travelled harbour waters! I found us a final thing to climb up, and this one was better than most – it involved harnesses, steel beams, edges, stairs, catwalks, and we did the “express” one where they skip the old people and children and most history [Ed. note: instead our guide told poop stories…historical poop stories, but still…] and just let you hike up the interior of the bridge straight to the top.  Definitely my kind of hike.

Sadly, though, it was not really my wife’s kind of hike.  I don’t remember how much she’s written about this, but she doesn’t really like hiking. Or climbing. Or stairs. Edges are also a no-go; it’s not the height per-se, but really just the edge where you could fall and plummet to your swift death in the water below kind of fear.  I think.  I try not to ask questions, especially after she agrees to climb something. Once I’ve got her locked into a “yes”, I go for it, pay for it, lock it in, and then she can’t really change her decision to “no”.  [Ed. note: one of these days I’ll learn, I swear…]

Anyways, so we’re climbing through this catwalk, cars and trains speeding by on the steel roadway above us, chained into this steel guide wire with the rest of our small hiking group, and she looks miserable. So I, helpfully, tell her to not look down (duh, because that’s where death is), but instead to look out, across the water, at the beautiful sunny Opera House across the way.  She acidly pointed out that the Opera House was technically down, and that my cheerfulness was not helpful.

We safely made it to the top and back, though, so I really don’t understand what the fuss was about. No one died, we climbed our final thing on the trip, and now we can start thinking about what else we’d like to climb on this planet!  At least, I can. I’m not sure she’ll climb anything else with me as long as I live.  [Ed. note: Here’s hoping…]

 

I always wanted to learn to surf in Australia.  I think it had something to do with the long haired, tanned beach boys as the instructors.   So when we finally got to the Sydney Beaches, I knew it was time to learn to hang ten…or drink a lot of salt water trying!  The Boy refused to join me in this ill advised life plan…something about the cold and nearly stormy skies keeping him from wanting to spend a few hours in the ocean.   Chicken. [Ed. note: not a chicken. I got a short-lived cold in China and didn’t want a repeat via a cold ocean swim.]

I got wet-suited up and given a board (green, not matter how much I hinted for a pink one…), then anticipated the arrival of our instructor…but Aussie surf god he was not.   Nope, I lucked out with the 40 year old surf bum with hair longer than mine and grey zinc oxide covering his entire face.

The class went about how I expected a surf lesson to go.   We learned to paddle and pop up while our boards lay on the sand and visitors on the beach stopped to gawk at how awkward we looked as we did this.   Then our group was deemed competent enough to get in the water.   I pushed my board out until I was waist high, then turned it around and held on as the waves kept crashing through me.   I get that I was supposed to actually get on the board for one of these waves, but I didn’t really feel up for that yet.

The beach bum instructor must have sensed my hesitation.   He walked over, grabbed my board and told me to hop on.  Then with out much time for me to think at all he started yelling “Paddle!” and I heard a wave started to crash around me so I went paddle, paddle, paddle, jump up!  And probably to everyone’s shock, but most of all mine, I was surfing!   I got up on the board on my very first try!   Surfing savant for sure.   And then I ate it.

I crashed under the waves one after another for the next 15 minutes.   I’d lay on the board and start to paddle and the wave would pull me off the board.   I’d lay on the board and get up on my knees and the surf would pull me under and fling the board above my head.   I’d lay on the board and almost stand up and then fall right back off the side.   And those stormy looking skies keeping my husband warm and dry outside of the water?   [Ed. note: damn right they were.] They made the waves crash one after the other and somehow even caused my wetsuit to come unzipped as I was trying to swim away from the neon green long board trying to crash down on my head, so suddenly I was fully immersed in the freezing ocean from head to toe…and unable to get zipped back up because my board and I were being pulled to shore!

Thankfully, I got some level of coordination back as the lesson went on and managed to surf for real a few more times before the lesson was over.   But when they offered to let us rent a board and keep practicing on our own, I declined.   My lungs full of salt water and aching core muscles let me know that my career as a surfer would need a bit more work before I could move to the beach and make a life of it…

Trip bucket list for the Boy: Complete.   He hugged a wild kangaroo out on Pebbly Beach and he could not be happier…

[Ed. note: Pebbly Beach has kangaroos that come out of the forest at night down to the dunes to feed, and they don’t care if you pet them or snuggle them! The only thing the kangaroos didn’t want me doing was picking them up for a standing-up cuddle!]

We have a ridiculous friend back home who is working his way through the seven summits.   Seriously, he has climbed 5 of the 7 tallest mountains on each continent and that’s just his hobby.   My hobby is wine.   [Ed. note: mine is bourbon] To each their own I guess.   Anyway, this friend, is scheduled to go climb Everest in the spring.   A huge life accomplishment and something that deserves a true place of honor…such as being his final summit of the seven.   But he still hasn’t made it up the Australian summit.   Lucky for him, we’re in Australia and had a plan to help him out.  Enter a side trip to Thredbo on the way up to Sydney and a day trip to hike up one of the summits in his honor.   

This was a much better idea in my head, before I had to leave the beach and come inland and actually realize I was going to hike 13+ km [Ed. note: uphill!] the next day.   Again, my hobby is wine and great, long doses of nature and physical activity totally compete with that.

Thankfully, Mt. Kosciuszko is nestled within a ski resort.   And ski resorts mean chair lifts (and cozy restaurants with wine, but that’s for after the climb I’m told…)   If you actually are crazy enough to want to climb a mountain, make sure you find one that takes you up several thousand feet via a comfy chairlift.   It really takes some of the pressure off that whole altitude acclimation and camping with sherpa crap.   Also, only hike a mountain that can be considered a day trip, it really cuts the need for any camping and then you have much less stuff for your husband to have to sherpa.   

We set off as early as the chairlift opened in hopes of beating the heat (ha!) and allowing enough time for what my husband had considered [Ed. note: I read somewhere during my 15 minutes of mountain climbing research] to be an 8 hour round trip.   Side note, while Australia has been very interesting and quite an experience, it has taught me to ignore him when he says “he’s got this” regarding any planning or research.   Also, how the hell did he get me to agree to climb a mountain when I still thought it would take 8 hours?  As the lift chugged along up half the mountain side, I realized that riding this contraption when the ground below you is rugged mountain biking terrain and huge rocks makes the drop look a much more terrifying than the powdery white that has only ever awaited me previously…

Safely off the lift, we started the trek up the hillside…and I had flashbacks to the Great Wall.   Had the relief of getting away from the sketchy food and toilets of Asia blurred my mind to forget that I don’t like walking uphill?  Shit.   I can’t turn back now, the chairlift lady will laugh at me.   Plus, this was for our friend.   I pressed on.   

Half an hour later and we were at the start.  Yup, the real chairlift that takes you to the start was under maintenance so we had to go up the farther and slightly lower lift and then hike.   I feel a little raged.   I’m already slightly winded and I haven’t even started on the promised 13km.   The Boy just wants to make it to the top, so he asks me to try as far as the lookout (2km away) and see how I feel.  [Ed. note: I saw her face, I was worried about not getting to the summit…] Okay, I can at least make that effort since the chairlift pass cost should get us a little view for our buck…

Here’s the thing I never realized about mountain climbing.   It’s windy…all the time.   Not just a gentle sea breeze I loved so much a week ago in Cairns, but a full on gusting wind that makes you curse the front desk clerk for mentioning the current heat wave that led you to start your hike in just a t-shirt…   The gusts were already so strong it was pushing me off the path and sensing my chagrin, the husband upped the anti…he promised wine when I came back down.   Yup, he knows my trump card.  I will do a lot of unpleasant things for wine.  [Ed. note: I knew about the wind – predicted to be 50+km/h, and decided that would be something to “experience” instead of warning her…]

Finally, the lookout.   Truthfully, it was a little disappointing.   Don’t get me wrong, there was definitely a pretty view, but the lookout was at 2,000m and the summit is at 2,228m, so the 4.5km distance between the 2 isn’t that much uphill and the view isn’t like peering up at the towering peaks of the Great Andes or anything…it’s just some gentle rolling hills ahead.  Not quite worth the price of admission, there had to be more up top to make this place so amazing right?   I wasn’t convinced, and I had a stitch in my side making me look longingly at that chairlift an hour’s walk back down.   But then the grannies showed up.   Three sweet old ladies with ski poles as walking sticks who we passed early on our walk up joined us at the lookout to pause from the wind.   And they spoke the words that should have been music to my husband’s ears.  They told us they were going to summit.   I might hate most things nature and outdoors and sporty, but there was no way in hell I could let 3 grannies beat me to the summit of a mountain.   Just like that, I had a renewed purpose (sorry, friend, but you weren’t quite cutting it anymore at this point…) and I knew I had to plug on to get up this hill no matter what…

The wind gets worse the higher you go towards a mountain summit, did you know that?  And then there’s the snow.   Reminder, I was on the beach a week ago, and was heading to another beach the next day.  Also, I’m in Australia in their summer.   How the hell is there snow around still? [Ed. note: we’re at the top of a mountain, duh!] To cheer myself up, I hit my husband with a snowball.   I’m not going to lie, it made me feel A LOT better.   Especially because the snow stuck in his fluffy travel beard for a bit.  It’s the little things that convince you to get up the damn mountain.   

And suddenly (or a few hours later…) we wound our way up to the top.   We were finally there, with a giant stone structure ahead to take pictures with.   And my husband stopped and hung out so I did what any normal person would do, I ran up the rest of the summit and yelled “FIRST” while laughing back at him….and then almost fell off the summit due to the unbelievable wind trying to push me back down the side.   Those pictures you see of people happy at the top of a mountain?  Did you ever notice their death grip on whatever rock is closest to them?  Look again, because they are gripping anything to try to stay upright, I promise.

So here comes the great surprise.   We didn’t climb the mountain alone.   We were the first people up there today and had the mountain top solo for about 15 minutes but it wasn’t just the husband and I, we had brought along our friend and proudly taped his head-shot to the top of the mountain so that he can now claim that he has reached the summit of 6 of 7 and give Everest the top honor it deserves next year as the triumphant accomplishment it is. 

You’re welcome, friend.   And you’re crazy. [Ed. note: awww yeah!]

My biggest regret in Australia is that I didn’t start taking photos of the road signs from day 1.   This country has absolutely hilarious signs.  Some are to be expected, like the strange animal crossing warnings (kangaroo, koala, cassowary…), but the ones that really had us laughing for our days (and days and days…it’s a really big country…) along the coast were the warnings to drivers about taking breaks and general road safety…   

Here’s a sampling of the inspirational messages tucked along the highways of Southern Australia.

“Drowsy Drivers Die!”

“Yawning?  Take a Powernap!”

“Buckle up or Suffer the Pain”

“Microsleep can kill in seconds”

“Open your eyes! Fatigue Kills”

“Tired?  Powernap now!”

“Only sleep cures fatigue”

And since I can’t leave you without any photos, here’s a special gem of a warning for a tourist stop along the Great Ocean Road…the cartoons they chose to depict these warnings of danger were always exceptional and borderline disturbing…

 

[Ed. note: “oh shit watch out the cliff is crumbling OMG I’m falling ahhhhhhhh!”]

Everyone knows how you take a road trip.   You fill up on gas, throw a cooler and some snacks in the back seat, pick out your tunes, and set off to follow the map and speed your way across the highway.   On the Great Ocean road, we decided to take a road trip.   We had fuel, snacks, drinks, and a good old fashion paper map.   And we went 150 km in 10 hours.   Nope, there wasn’t traffic, not even 20 cars around all day.   We stopped every 3 km for the majority of the trip. [Ed. note: there is shit to see!]  And it was totally worth it!

Even better?  My husband arranged a surprise helicopter ride over the sights.  Thirty minutes of us, uninterrupted views, and one random Asian girl in the back seat.   It was unbelievable.   The Boy forced me into the front seat with the good camera…that I’m not yet so good at operating, so 80% of the photos are fuzzy or with a window reflection of the helicopter control panel.   Fortunately, this is a blog and I only give you about 5 shots per post, so all you have to know is it was awesome!

The road was winding and curving and everything my husband could hope for…if he had his Audi with the Sports package and special tires from home.   In the rental car SUV, he found himself frustrated having to go the speed limit and not being able to pass every bus along the coastal road like his own car would know how to do.   So we drove slow and enjoyed the view.   [Ed. note: oh don’t worry. I still passed people. But I also stopped and enjoy the view – a lot.]  Life was rough…

We stopped on the second day (because when you only do 150km of 243km on day 1, you have to stop overnight and start fresh….) at many places.   Day 2 wasn’t quite as full of costal cliffs and scenic lookout spots, but it more than made up for it with the rest.   First, the Great Ocean Road has a completely random and unexpected forest for California Redwoods, planted here 70 years ago. [Ed. note: it’s in the damn middle of a rain forest. There is a giant rainforest on this road, complete with red and blue parrots flying around, and vines and giant trees. And in the middle of the rainforest, by the river, there is a California Redwoods forest.]  I have no clue why or how or what, but we walked among them and I felt like I was back on the road to Napa…

The rest of the road is just waterfalls.   And if you learned anything at Wujal Wujal, it is that we ALWAYS stop for waterfalls.  [Ed. note: because waterfalls are awesome.] We did two this day, both completely empty of people and waiting for us to climb.   I let the Boy hit the pool on his own for the first and joined him on the second (aka the one that looked less likely to drown me…) and couldn’t believe how lucky we are to have this be our life, if only for 3 months…  I know we come home soon, but man, it’s good to be us…

So remember the beach last week?  The warm sun, the cold drinks, the complete defrost from all things Asia?  Yea, apparently not all of Australia is like that.   Especially not when you actually drive about as far South as you can and then take a ferry to go even further out in the Southern Ocean.  Yes, Kangaroo Island in November is a bit chilly. [Ed. note: not too chilly. Just a wee bit.] Upside?  Penguins.

A few colonies of penguins got lost from their Antarctica cousins ten thousand years ago and adapted themselves to live in the mostly (or at least currently) snowless land of koalas and kangaroos.   Lucky for us, since the island wasn’t littered with wildlife as we anticipated so perhaps my husband would cheer up if we were able to find one of his favorite funny little creatures instead.  [Ed. note: seriously – penguins are my second favorite animal in the world. They were the reason I thought we should go to Antarctica a couple of years ago.]

The fairy penguins living here apparently are nocturnal, so our tour options were either 8:30 pm or 9:30 pm.  Considering everything on this island shut around 5 pm including most restaurants and the penguin area is almost 2 hours drive from our little farmhouse, we opted for the early tour and a lot of caffeine afterwards.  The tour was led by a peculiar man who seemed a bit surprised that people were actually here to take the tour. [Ed. note: he really was an odd bloke.]  He explained to everyone that most of the chicks were gone so we might not see anything.  Salesmanship was not his forte.  

We pressed on, because if we learned anything on this island it was that it pays to keep trying and maybe something would play along with our foolish antics…and foolish it was.   Unlike our week or two in Antarctica a few years ago, the colonies of 80,000 penguins up and down every coastline were not the norm here.   We had to physically hunt.  We were armed with binoculars and zoom lenses and red light flashlights (so forgive the photo quality…).

But we found them!  [Ed. note: heck yeah we did! Fourth species of penguin – located!!] A handful of cuddly little blue fin tipped fairy penguins hiding along the rocks of the coast.   They were a lot quieter than Antarctic penguins…and they smelled a lot better.   But they were the same hilarious little creatures surrying across the rocks and bumping into one another.   Finally, a total wildlife win on Kangaroo Island!