The Last Days of Perth and a Road Trip to Monkey Mia

(the little outburt of land in the very top left hand corner is Monkey Mia, Frankland is somewhere in the unidentified land in the very south, above Denmark, below Kojonup, to the left of the Y in the white road.)

 Right now I’m on the bus to the Great Southern region of Australia. A four hour ride to my next step and all I can think about is the whirlwind of the last few days. I guess I have absolutely no idea what to expect on this next adventure so it’s easier for me to think about what has happened and what has led me here. Tuesday, Valentines Day, was a day to celebrate getting a WWOOFing opportunity and to play bingo at the Claremont Hotel. Wednesday was filled with errands and departure preparations and then some more-celebratory beers and oysters in Fremantle. Thursday was more organizing and packing. Then that night there was Frankland Estate’s annual Riesling release event at Must Wine Bar in Perth. The event was quite busy and I started talking with a German couple who had been living in Perth for years and had actually been down to Frankland Estate.  The chatty wife was very opinionated about her Riesling, refilling her glass frequently so I learned a bit about the wines from them. There were three different Rieslings from Frankland Estate, from different vineyards on their property, which resulted in all three of them tasting completely different. One was quite light and easy to drink, the next was a bit more complex with fruitier notes while the third was much sweeter and had a fuller texture like most people would associate with a Riesling. There was also a French Riesling from 2001 that was reminiscent of petroleum – depending on your taste is a good thing or a bad thing, but it’s kinda funny like the wine wheel describing wet  cardboard: who actually knows what this taste likes….(!) Apparently that is a sign of an aged wine and definitely an acquired taste. I introduced myself to Hunter, one of the winemakers who was the son of the family and then met Brian, the husband of the woman/brother-in-law I had been emailing with. I also met Felix, the German guy who was also working at the winery with me. He is studying wine and this work is part of a three month internship. He has worked on vineyards before and is actually fully studying wine, not just WWOOFing so I think, and hope, that I will learn a lot from him. They were all incredibly enthusiastic and extremely friendly. It really eased a bit of my hesitations and I actually left the bar really excited about the new opportunity I had ahead of me to work with these guys.

I had plans to meet up with my first “friend” – the Irish guy who worked down by the Swan Bells. Since meeting him that first day, I had gone back a couple times while in Perth just to chat and we finally exchanged numbers. We met at the Cure ("come here for your hangover cure") where he was out with his friends. It’s funny in Australia – the Irish bars are only filled with Irish people. And it doesn’t matter if it’s 2:30 in the afternoon on a Monday or a Saturday night. I don’t know if it’s because Irish peple just like to drink together. Pajo, let’s call him, calls Irish people sheep: they all flock together. He thinks that they give themselves a bad name to the Australians because they say there is no work in Ireland, making the place sound horrible and poor, but Pajo, his roommate and his girlfriend, and other people he knows actually left their jobs to come to Australia so it’s not like there’s nothing there for them. But anyways, there we were, him from Dublin and me “just moved here from Donegal,” hanging out in the Irish bar like all the other baa-ing sheep. We left though to go to the Brass Monkey – a pretty well known beer bar in Northbridge. They next day, with nothing better to do, we continued our joke-filled tour of Northbridge. As my first friend in Australia, I had a lot of fun and a lot of laughs on my last days. 

Two sausages are frying in a pan. One sausage says to the other, gee it's awfully hot in here. The other sausage responds, AAHHH A TALKING SAUSAGE!

(this joke also works with muffins in an oven)

Saturday morning, JD and I left really early for our road trip up north.  We were driving over 800 kilometers north to Monkey Mia in an attempt to swim with the dolphins as it was one of the things on the “list” to do in Australia. JD kept thanking me for the trip, but I swear it was his idea to go there. I had read somewhere that it was only about 6 hours, not 8 or 10…Even with speeding (the speed limit is 110  on the highways) it took us about 8 and a half hours. JD drove for the first couple of hours out of the city and then I drove for about 5 until I uncomfortably couldn’t drive anymore. Driving north out of Perth, the towns got smaller and more hick-ish with great distances of cattle farms and grain fields in between. At times it appeared very “outback-ish” but we were nowhere close to what the Outback actually is like. After we passed Geraldton, the empty expanse of land really exposed itself. The red clay soil lined the sides of the road and on either side of the road, dry prickly low bushes covered the land. My eyes of course were peeled for kangaroo’s, always, but only a few lying on the side of the road could be seen, drying out and half eaten.  You're welcome for the description. 

We drove through an area called Wildflower County that apparently is just blooming with colorful wildflowers between July and November. I can only imagine how impressive it must be. We drove on and on, as the names on the road signs slowly were crossed off as we passed them, overtaking massively intimidating road trains and speeding as fast as the little rental Toyota Corola could handle and bear it’s "high performance vehicle ability" until only Denham and Monkey Mia were left.  We entered Shark Bay, Western Australia’s first World Heritage area granted in 1991 for matching four natural criteria: it’s stromatolites, seagrass beds, extraordinary scenery, and fauna: 26 mammal species, 13 reptiles threatened to extinction, 3 types of rare birds, 12% of the world’s dugangas, and a large loggerhead turtle rockeries.* 

*According to Scoop Mag (the same one I think that told me it was only 6 hours away).

As we came over some of the hills, the dry land cleared away to absolutely breathtaking aquamarine water and crisp white sand lining the coast. It was so pristine, so empty, you could really understand the appreciation for the World Heritage protection of the area. 

Signs for people crossing were everywhere, but where were these people coming from, and where were they going?

Denham was a quiet sleepy town on the water with a couple hotels and boats docked in the water. We drove on though, for another 24 kilometers to Monkey Mia. It had a cooler sounding name and we only do the cool things. Monkey Mia, is basically a little resort community. There is the Monkey Mia Resort which has villas, camping site, hostel accomodations, and caravans. There is a small pool and hot tub, tennis courts, games to rent, a bar and a restaurant, beach access and of course, the opportunity to feed dolphins. Monkey Mia is the only place in Australia where wild dolphins will come up to the shore to bed fed daily, rather than seasonally. Except for Sunday, Februrary 19th. That was not one of the “daily” days. Apparently they will come to shore between 7:30 and noon, but on this particularly day, when we were there, there was a warm current filled with fish so the dolphins were out to sea and didn’t need to come to shore to be fed. They seem to be smart animals, habitual animals, so they know to come back if they want to but since Monkey Mia is part of the World Heritage area, they do not encourage the tourism of the site into making the dolphins circus animals. I liked that and commented on how easily you could see the place bening like a Club Med with daily activities like water yoga and kids camp but it was more of a relaxation spot for travelers – a little out of the way, but definitely a worthwhile reward.

 the view from our beach side hotel room.

the beach.

 The water was incredibly warm and shallow and clear. Monkey Mia is in a little hamlet so there were no waves, although the current was quite strong. The sea floor was covered with different types of shells and you could see little fish swimming around you. JD thought he felt a jellyfish in the water, saw a turtle, and a long water snake while snorkeling. Oh and apparently there were sharks in the water, but they were well fed so they didn’t bother with the humans – good to know!

Is that water deep or are you just really short? OMG YOU'RE SO TALL!

 But I don't wanna get out. 

 We had veggie burgers and salt and pepper squid for dinner then played pool with the greatest comeback the Black Widower ever saw and defensive fooseball. I lost both, even with knowing JD was trying to play down his coughmadcough skills. Some beer, white wine, and two tequila shots later, we went to the beach and laid down to stare at the stars.

The sky was absolutely stunning. I have never seen anything like it. And I can't even describe it to you to give it justice. From lying on the sand, looking out onto the sea’s horizon, there were stars just inches above the horizon - I had never seen them expand so far. They stretched all the way over us and behind us as far as we could see, not a cloud in sight - that thing that looks like a cloud, oh, that's just a galaxy, clearly visible to us right now. The Milky Way wrapped around the middle of the sky, directly above us, laying a belt of twinkly clusters of stars amongst the brighter ones. JD was soon snoring*, but I could’ve just stared out upon that sky for the entire night. The clarity of it’s expanse was really was unbelievable. The area around us, in the middle of nowhere of the World Heritage site, was so pure, so clear of pollution, the sky just shone.

*details like these are not only funny, but definitely part of the story and experience. 

 The next morning, a dip in the sea and then we waited by the jetty for the dolphins to arrive. The jetty was full of people standing, then sitting, then dispersed onto other day activities with the dolphin's no show ("they are definitely going to get fired"). Everyone had their eyes peeled from the shore to the horizion, as people pointed at every bird that swooped and fish that jumped making a splash, with the sun sparkling upon the little wave breaks, but none of these were dolphins.

We were two for two: no peguins on Penguin Island, no dolphins at Monkey Mia.

There were howerever a flock of befuddled emu’s wandering around, sometimes chasing each other, sometimes going up and pecking at the grass in front of sun bathers. At first they were a touristy novelty of intrigue and after less than 24 hours they were almost annoying and in the way with their jutting beaks and huge feet. 

“Hey guys, how’s it going, whatcha doing, hey guys, wait up”

….picture Will Ferrell in A Night at the Roxbury….as an emu.

It really was beautiful. We had planned on leaving at 12 and ended up leaving at 2 – 1 because the restaurant for lunch didn’t open until noon, 2 because it was way too hard to leave the sun and views for another 8/5 hour ride and 3 because we couldn’t leave without having a pina colada.

Back in the car, back to speeding and testing the car’s limits in the middle of nowhwere, back to passing the caravans of packpackers, pack to passing the tremendous road trains, back to driving until you're numb and stuck to the seat, back to chugging sugar-free Red Bulls and eating chips until your stomach hurts, back to the shuffle dance party of the iPod, and back to the not-so-clear-aired sky of the city.

So now, after that whirlwind, I am sitting on the bus not really sure where I’m going or what to expect. I am not nervous, I don’t really feel anything to be honest. Just sort of going with it. It’s like, it’s going to happen, there’s nothing you can do about it, and just let what happens happen. There’s no point in fretting, everything works out the way it is supposed to and maybe I have a good feeling about it. I am not scratching or pulling at my hair – that is a good sign. I suppose it helps that I met three of the people I will be working with and Elizabeth seems nice on email. I think if anything, I am nervous about what I have to offer. Sure my letter was heartfelt and personal and passionate and I should have a lot of knowledge from UNISG and the amount of wine I've drunk but I don’t know if I actually have the tasting ability to really know what I’m talking about nor do I have the slightest clue about actual wine making. I am hoping to be trained and learn about the production process. I guess I’m really not worried because I have no  obligations here. I don’t have to stay if I don’t like it. It will be nice to work during the morning, to have a routine, and then if I want to work in the afternoon I will be paid for it. Felix the German guy said that during vintage there is always a lot of work going on but there is also a car so if I want to use that and explore the area I can do that too. Valley of the Giants, Walpole, Denmark, Albany, 40 wineries in the region, Mt Barker, Australia's (or the world's?) oldest mountain range, a couple national parks, Australia's whitest beaches in Esperance, also a salt lake, isolation, remoteness, learning the in's and out's of the life of a winery, tasting pure grape juice, unpolluted air to stare at the stars....seriously, what is there to not look forward to?! 

Leaving and Arriving. 4 Days. 4 Places.

Friday was the day. The last day. The day to leave Donegal. A late night with friends meant that I slept in later than I had planned. There was a part of me that didn’t want to leave the comfort of Dunfanaghy. Despite the small-town aspect that can feel a bit mundane, I like it there. Some part wanted me to miss the bus and resort to taking the very last option the next morning. The other part of me was ready to go, excited and nervous at the same time – I just had to get the first step rolling to get out of there.  I was extremely impressed with myself that I had managed to narrow my clothes down to fit into my backpack but when the time came to pick it up I nearly tumbled over: it was heavier than I had expected.  As my internal dread of over-packing slowly rose throughout my body and rushed to my head, I desperately took out a pair of sneakers and some shampoo & conditioner – like, really, those are so heavy. There was really nothing I could do, so I jumped on the 16:10 bus and was outta there. Until next time, Dunfanaghy.

 

The bus brought me to Dublin to spend the night with Hugh. It was Friday the 13^th so naturally we watched various versions of the scary movie – recent one filled with bimbos and the older ones with fantastic 80’s outfits and hair do’s. We laughed. We jumped in our seats. We looked away. We pretended not to be scared. We ate quality Chinese food – of course with chips instead of rice – it’s just the way it is in Ireland. Potato. Potato.

I'm waiting to hear you're on your way over here, Hugh. 

I was one step, one day closer. 

Next, Dublin to London. From Heathrow I transferred to Gatwick to meet up with Arina arriving from Holland. Throughout the winter I tried to convince her to come to Ireland for a visit but with a new home and a new job it was a bit difficult. Luckily and ever so gratefully, she came to meet me in London for my last night.  It’s amazing how you can not see someone for a couple months, years even, and then get back together and instantly time disappears and it feels as though you never left each other.  With our fantastic directional skills, we managed to find Ottolenghi – a chef’s restaurant who’s cookbooks I have written a lot about here, his recipes pretty much filled our three days of Christmas.  Right in between our birthdays, it was a perfect setting to celebrate with a glass of prosecco, a bottle of Italian wine, lots of laughs, and small plates and stories to share. As I had made the reservation online, there was a box option for comments where I wrote my usual “Allergic to nuts and swimming fish (shellfish is ok)” so the waiter, after some glances from the kitchen and discussions with the other staff, came over to our table with a paper menu scribbled over with X’s and checks, ingredients crossed out to show me what I could order off of. Pretty impressive restaurant attention.  We were the second to last table to leave the restaurant.  

 Great last night.

The next day, my last day in Europe was spent wandering the Brixton Village markets, eating – apparently – the best pizza in London, wandering the streets of Oxford Circus, Picadilly and Leister Square, eating at Jamie Oliver’s Italian Restaurant, walking down Kensington Church Street to see our old house on Cambridge Place, and having one last coffee on Glouster Road before we parted ways on the tube.  Arina’s enthusiastic bright smile and her supportive, generous hugs gave me the courage I needed to take a deep breath and keep going.

 Prior to flying, Singapore Airlines gives you an option to check out your meal options. Pretty impressive. And pretty tasty.

They also give you your own TV, an iPhone charger, Givenchy socks and a toothbrush, and pretty nice blanket and pillow.

2 hours into the 13 hour flight, right after I had taken half a sleeping pill, the loud speaker came on announcing the presence of a doctor to be made. Oh man, I thought, but she was ok.  And neither did I have to worry about disembarking as a drugged sleeping zombie as I slept for maybe an hour, maybe two, the entire flight. Instead I watched Drive, Moneyball, The Whistleblower, and What’s your Number?

Finally we landed in summer-toasted Singapore and I began stripping off the tremendous amount of layers of summer clothes I had piled on to keep me warm the last couple days in winter-coated Dublin and London. I don’t think I can begin to tell you how excited I was about my 13 hour layover in the Singapore airport.  It may have been the cheapest flight option, but as I looked into it, there was part of me that secretly wished I had stayed a bit longer. It makes sense as it is such an international layover stop to have such amenities for weary travelers. A swimming pool, movie theatre, world-class shopping, restaurants, spa services, hourly hotel rates, free tours into the city, feet-eating fish, shower facilities....it sounded great! And it did feel more like a mall than an airport. I was disappointed to find out that I had missed the free tours of the city as I had arrived at 6pm but then as I looked around and saw signs for public transportation I thought why not take myself in? It was nighttime, I was by myself, and I had absolutely no sense of bearings for Singapore. I couldn’t think of a visual image I had seen of it before nor could I think of any major tourists sites. I didn’t know if it was a safe city or where to go.  I dropped my shoulder bag off at the excess baggage desk and asked the guy what he thought. He said it was the start of Chinese New Years, explaining that it would be busy in town and naming some places to go for some bars and nightclubs. I smiled, replying that my flight was at 7:55am the next morning I didn’t think I would be going to any nightclubs or bars by myself in a strange city. As I walked out towards immigration, I asked for a second opinion to see if it was worth it to go into the city for a couple hours before the last train and if I just needed my boarding pass and passport to get back in. The lady at the immigration desk also mentioned Chinese New Year and started at my wool sweater saying I would be extremely hot wearing that outside. On my way to find some Singapore dollars for the train, I passed the tourist center and the woman there not only gave me a map of the city and the subway, but circled and walked me through all the different spots I could visit within the length of time I had. It was exactly what I needed.  Rather pleased with my adventure, I probably still looked like I was lost as I was the only Caucasian on the train – no one wanted to sit next to me.

awkward traveling alone.

 I got out where I was told and immediately the hot summer night air hit me, and almost as effect, knocked my head upwards as I felt tiny amongst the huge, brightly lit skyscrapers. It was really quite beautiful. I walked around the path around the river that was lined with restaurants and people enjoying eating an array of Indian, Asian and seafood restaurants. I remember walking around, enjoying the night on my own, and thinking how glad I was that I dared to venture out. It gave me a bit more of the confidence I needed to travel alone.

 I got a little lost on my way to Chinatown, feeling a little directionally challenged, but when I found it, wondered how I could ever not find it. The streets were lit up with bright lights and Chinese lanterns covering the car-less roads. On either side of the streets the stores opened up with tables and displays selling trinkets for Chinese New Years, chopsticks, candies, dried mushrooms, glass dragons, fans, iPhone accessories, wild Malaysian fruits, lanterns, dried meats of whoknowswhat and little vendors selling all types of Chinese food like a little Chinese mall’s food court. It was so hot and sweaty maneuvering between the hoards of people I eventually sat down to a cold Tiger beer and chatted with an English guy who owns a bar in Crete and travels for the 6 months of the year doesn’t work. Rough.

 Back on the train, I arrived at the airport with another 7 hours to go.  I wandered, chugged coffee, took a shower, and then sat, heavy-eyed at the gate. Another 5 hour plane ride to Perth, I thought for sure I would sleep no problem. Nope. I was restless. As I followed the flight map on the television screen in front of me, the plane slowly crossing the Indian Ocean, completely surrounded by water, all I could think of was how many sharks there must be in the deep water below us. I’m pretty sure it was the first time the pilot had ever landed a plane. It was awful. I thought for sure I wouldn’t even make it to the ground. We did. Then we arrived and he announced it was 36 degrees Celsius, which is 6 degrees Fahrenheit. What? I was sweating as we stood in line at immigration. Not only for the heat, but what if I wasn’t allowed in?  The guy took my passport, looked at the numbers, looked at them again, asked me if the passport was issued in Ireland and I said no America and he goes hmm I don’t see in here (computer system). Ohmygod. Then he handed me my passport and I was all set to go through.

 All Sharks.

First sight of Australia. 

AHHH HELLO AUSTRALIA!! I made it. 

And...

As hard as it is to leave this place, I am ready! 

There's a lot you can do when you've got nothing to do.

ok, technically I don't have "nothing to do"....thesis presentation powerpoint and preparation, packing my stuff, cleaning the apartment, planning mum's trip in Italy, saving S. Salvatore, job searching, making the most of my time left in Italy....but hey, it's the first day not having to work on the thesis! I think I deserve a wee break. So...I came across an old favourite clip that I would like to share. 

and I suppose, after watching this and imagining me sitting in my room, alone, watching this video and laughing out loud**, you would believe that I truly have nothing to do.


**...and then writing about it on my blog.

Oh, it is wonderful to wake up in the morning with things to look forward to! - Dodie Smith

my thesis was sent last night. celebrations ensued which included too quickly drunk gin & tonics and some coffee shot at the pub. three suitcases are already packed. and i mean stuffed. probably already over the airplane weight limit yet my room still looks full. mum arrives on friday and we're meeting in milan to see the last supper. then verona, bologna and modena. plans tbd but reservation is booked for osteria francescana! back in colorno, the thesis defense presentation is on tuesday afternoon. wednesday night we have a group dinner at pallavicina. graduation is on thursday morning. party at the pub afterwards. early morning (!) flight to ireland the following day. then a week's vacation with mum & dad in donegal! then....post-UNISG life starts. 

Bienvenidos

so...mum and i finally made it to italy! it was a rushed, teary goodbye - last minute packing and throwing things into my bags, phone calls and texts, goodbye's on the street, writing thank you and farewell notes to neighbors, one last visit to Cava...I was really sad to leave Dad at the airport, but a sleepless-2.5 movies-a family guy lauren conrad episode-the modern family pilot and one lousy beef or chicken dish later...we were in Dublin. so many cutie irish people, i wanted to recruit them all to Ri Ra. Of course we had to have a full irish breakfast - not as good as mum's and not so appetizing at 5 in the morning, but still. then we were on the flight to milan and i think i was just beyond exhaustion to have any feelings. it was good just to be in transit. we managed to get my four bags into this tiny car and off we were to parma (below). parma is a really cute little city - tons of old historic buildings, very colorful, romantic, cobble stone streets, little stores and a bunch of restaurants and cafes, museums and churches. the weather is cold and dreary but that doesn't hide its charm. we had lunch at san barnaba - our first proscuitto crudo di parma, braised radicchio with melted cheese, tortelli alla parmigiano and zuppa di verdure. and a very good house red wine. then we wandered around a bit and randomly ran into my new apartment roommate Arina! she's great - very friendly and chatty and it seems like we have a lot in common. a nap and shower was definitely needed though to wake me up. then we wandered to enoteca, which was a fun hipster sorta wine bar with tapas where we had a glass of cava, mixed crostini and patatas bravas. then onwards to dinner, we went to la greppia where we had no idea what half the menu was but ended up having some local/traditional dishes which included fettuccini with chestnut flour and ricotta (and mashed potato decoration), braised red cabbage with gorganzola that seemed more like pate, chestnut& apple stuffed tortellini and also artichokes stuffed with cheese and porcini mushrooms with a cheesey sauce. and a very good local sangiovese di romagna red wine. i don't know how the italians manage to stay slim with all the white carbs, cheese, and wine...I'll guess I'll have to learn. or i'll just be the happiest fat person who lives by the motto, "when in rome." i just love to try everything to experience it at least once.

tomorrow we are able to collect our apartment keys from the campus office and move in. i have a list of errands to do so it will be busy! i am very much looking forward to it though :o)

Packing.

just went to bj's with mum to buy extremely large amounts of toiletries and whatnots that i will possibly need in the next year - who knows what the italian version of cvs is like. it's nice not to have to buy them in euro's when i get there, but they're going to take up a ton of packing space. mum: do you really need 300 excedrin pills?? yes, maybe, who knows? and picked up a bright orange wheely duffle bag appropriately branded with a "ciao" label. how do you possibly pack for a year abroad? i have no idea what to expect, what will be available in the small town of colorno or if i'll have to go to parma for every day necessities, and what i'll need for the study trips across europe. (although the weather does sound promisingly warmer than here, which is way more exciting than when i studied abroad in salamanca - of course they had the first snow fall in decades while i was there). i already threw out garbage bags of stuff, took old clothes to the second hand store, and have brought boxes and boxes to storage, but it still feels like i have a ton of stuff here - it's pretty gross how much life accumulates. and even grosser that i probably won't end up using or wearing half of what i bring. it's all anticipation, preparation, the unknown.