Back in Oz

Hiya, folks—as I’m writing this a news chopper just flew over because the beach where we’re staying was hit this week with the “worst storm in thirty years” and they’re doing media coverage of the “disaster” area—our timing is impeccable. Having witnessed a lot of storms, I empathize with the locals, and admire the clean-up crews. That being said, it’s the right time for a storm like this to happen, if it is going to: It is the start of winter here in Australia (which still means 70 degree days) and the tourist season is over. The upside for us is that the village where we are staying is nearly deserted—we are the only people staying here tonight, in fact—and I’m writing this sitting here:

Not too shabby. There is very little people-noise but lots of bird songs. I can appreciate them at a distance.

Let’s keep the journey talk to this: It was long. I’d rather talk about what was unique about this journey: Australia seems to be in a panic about swine flu, like most of the world, and as we walked through customs they had us walk past heat-sensitive cameras to quarantine those of us running a temperature. We also had to sign some paperwork swearing that we weren’t concealing flu-like symptoms, and several of the people on our flight were wearing masks.
Once we arrived (and showered—why does travel make you feel so grimy?) we walked into the village and had breakfast. If you’re dieting for a wedding or the like stop reading now. While I’m not trying to write a food blog, I have to tell you about our breakfast. Here it is:

We really liked it. Can you tell? I nearly licked the plate.

I know almost nothing about cooking, but I do love eating—and the chef at this joint achieved that really amazing balance of the things on the plate—rich goat cheese in the omelette, crisp Ciabatta bread (even the bread was delicious) and this tart salad to even out the omelette. Ben has gotten used to me saying things like “this (insert food here) is changing my life” but even he agreed this was an exceptional omelette—filled with yummy salmon to boot.

After brunch we took a walk to what is left of the beach—but the ocean is still beautiful, and Ben graciously took photos of flowers for me on demand. Isn’t this flower as pretty as a cupcake?

We hit a local grocery this afternoon in town to supply up—bread for toast, coffee, and honeycombed-chocolate for Ben. I’m a nerd for grocery stores so I had a great time. While we did not find it at the market today, there is a brand of cheese in Australia that has the head of Dick Smith on it, an Aussie businessman and millionaire. Am I the only person who thinks it is funny to put the name Dick on a block of cheese?

On our first trip to Australia, Ben and I established a game for long hours in the car. It’s a hybrid of Slugbug, called Magpie, named after the Murray Magpies that are populous in his home state. When you see a Magpie, your endeavor to punch your partner first, but, beware: If you mistake a Murray Magpie for a Kingfisher or another bird, you get double-punched. I got the first punch in today—and made the first mistake. Ben owes me two punches. I’ll let you know how it goes

We’re doing our best to stay awake until 8 p.m. Tomorrow: The beach. And more honeycomb chocolate.

Love,
Robyn and Ben