The Great Ocean Road

It took me two years, but I finally made it to the destination usually at the top of the list for Melbourne tourists.

I didn't want to take a standard day trip coach bus tour, I wanted a bit more freedom and adventure. So Adam arranged the car and a place to sleep in Apollo Bay so we could take advantage of the lingering days of summer over two days. We started our day at Prahran Market for our favorite weekend treat: fresh grilled mushroom burgers (no meat) on sourdough rolls with onions, Parmesan, and chipotle mayo. They are served outside Market Lane coffee, where my current favorite is the Juan Ticona pour over served in beautiful blue hand made cups.

The morning was promising in Melbourne, but Victoria weather had other plans for us, so we prepared for a rainy, cool weekend along one of the most dangerous shipping lanes in the world: Bass Strait. We thought we were prepared, but on our first stop at Bells Beach, the ocean caught us off guard and we wandered with wet shoes and socks back to the car. The torrential rain started about 100 meters from the car and we just avoided being soaked through. Lesson learned: don't turn your back on the ocean and there is a reason Aussies always wear thongs (flip flops). Thankfully our socks dried quickly in the back window of the car.

Bell's Beach is a surfer's paradise (high surf) and it was busy with surfers and people prepping for an upcoming RipCurl Surf Competition. The sign warns of Strong Currents, High Surf, Submerged Objects (from wrecks), and Unstable Cliffs. We watched a few surfers catch waves in and made a temporary friend when a beagle decided to follow us. He was friendly until we played fetch and he got a bit territorial over his new found stick. We hope he found his master eventually.

We continued on our way, Adam driving so I could gaze out on the left at the coastal views. In the misty rain it reminded me of growing up on the North Pacific Coast in California, like driving on Route 1 near Ft Bragg. But the terrain was different in key ways. The rocks were new to me, the surf was rougher, the foliage was denser. We were lucky to spend some time on the Great Ocean Walk as well as in the car, and all the plants seemed strange and exotic.

We tried to catch the sunset, but we underestimated the time to get to a good lookout point. We were hoping to view it from the 12 Apostles, but we were literally laughed at by the woman at the Apollo Bay visitors center when we asked if we would make it. She directed us to the Cape Otway lightstation instead.

On the way to Cape Otway, we took a quick stop in the dense rainforest in the hills just above the cape. This is where the carnivorous black snail lives and the trees are lush and moss covered. It rained on us, as can be expected in the rain forest. So we ran from giant frond to giant frond seeking some cover, ultimately just getting a bit wet. The trail was well maintained and we managed not to slip and fall, even though Adam was wearing flip flops. There were no snail attacks, but we did find a dead one on the path, so clearly we were lucky.

Turns out, Cape Otway lightstation closes at 5 and we arrived at 6. But we figured we'd find a good view from the Great Ocean Walk leading off to the West.

Instead, we found ourselves in dense foliage with occasional rain showers and the feeling that just around each corner we'd see ocean and sky. We reached the Cape Otway cemetery and realized that if we hung around for sunset, we'd be wandering past the cemetery at night, and we'd been watching too many zombie shows to feel ok about that.

So, no sunset views, but we saw a field full of kangaroos and a mom and joey bounding across a field cleared for grazing cattle. At one stage we turned a bend in the road and saw 4 large cows calmly standing on the "shoulder". We were glad they hadn't decided to take a leisurely stroll across the road. The smell of Eucalypts in the rain was lovely. We got back on the road at dusk, the most dangerous time to drive in an area populated with wild kangaroos. On one stretch, we had a near miss as we cruised passed a full grown brown kangaroo calmly lingering in the other lane. We hoped he cleared out after us so no one hit him from the other direction. They can be especially dangerous because they jump up and go through the windshield. I slowed to about 40kph after that for a strained drive the rest of the way to Apollo Bay.

We stayed the night in Apollo Bay at the Sandpiper Motel. It was the perfect spot to rest our heads before a long drive the next day. We broke our fast at Nautigals Cafe, run by women and nautically themed, and set out for Wreck Beach, the 12 Apostles and Loch Ard.

Wreck Beach is a tricky place to get to, which is why it is the perfect stop for the adventurous. No coach tour busses or campers can make the journey. All the vehicles we met were 4WD, but we motored on in our little Hyundai. The road is not paved, and not really 2 lanes, a bit better than a logging road, but only because there are some houses on Moonlight Head Rd. At one point we had to stop as a Kangaroo came bounding straight at us, with a car behind it blocking its path. Just before colliding with us it veered right and into the brush. Quite nimble, those roos!

The guide book told us it was a 90 minute hike and strenuous, and that was spot on. We saw only two people and their dog as we wandered the beach and came across a few anchors left by big wrecks from an era long gone. The rock formations are alien and the tide threatens to eat the beach you are standing on. We were lucky the tide was out enough to see what we came for. GOW stands for Great Ocean Walk.

We took the advice from the guidebook and kept an eye on the ocean at all times. We got a bit wet, but kept a safe distance. After the trek up the hill we were ready to visit the renowned 12 Apostles. Unlike Wreck Beach, 12 Apostles is meant for mass tourism. Big parking lot and wide walkways, all flat and accessible. The wind whipped and the waves rolled in around large stone pillars standing against the ever pounding ocean. While impressive they had remained, it was clear they too would succumb and the land we stood on would also eventually crumble against the never relenting tide.

The photos don't do the waves justice. The water was the blue of arctic waters, colored by the sand it tore off the beach, white with the froth of the waves. I only counted 9 Apostles, but I guess that is why the helicopter tours are popular, probably get to see all of them from a bird's eye view.

We stopped at Loch Ard just down the road from the 12 Apostles and found the perfect enclosed beach where you can watch the waves from ground level pummeling the rocks and beach. 

Looking back at the cliffs showed the impact of the salt and the sea. I got one jump shot in before we got in the car for our journey home.

I finally ticked this one off my bucket list, in the style I wanted. I do hope to return for some more wild ocean time. Maybe next time we will drive all the way to Adelaide!

Saturday in Singapore

This is a late post from my most recent trip in October on a lazy Saturday...

Enjoyed a quick breakfast in the hotel and on my way back to the room a woman returning from the gym and a man in a wheelchair with his wife entered the lift. He looked up at the fit woman and said, "don't take anything for granted, I ran a marathon 16 years ago, but that didn't stop me from having a stroke". She was a doll and asked where the marathon was. He said Perth. He asked her where she's from and she said New York. As I left the lift they were exchanging further pleasantries - it was like watching myself as I have had many of these interactions on my travels. His dark words stuck in my mind even though she had deflected them so well. I have internalized that lesson into the deepest part of my being after watching my mother suffer and eventually die from Multiple Sclerosis. And that is one of the reasons I am in Asia today, because the future is uncertain and I know I can do it today.

My morning destination was MacRitchie Reservoir and the HSBC Tree Walk. I lingered a bit at the hotel calling family and got going around 10:30. The taxi driver scolded me for not going earlier when the day is cooler. The travelers dilemma: enjoy a lazy morning or catch the early worms!

Thankfully it is October and a cool front has moved in, so the after noon heat was a comfortable stickiness that fit well with my immersion in the remaining 5% of the rainforest that once covered this small island.

The reservoir allows kayaking and they were out in droves. There were crowds of joggers and plenty of mobile elderly Chinese strolling along the water. Even as the pathway became rockier I still encountered a lot of people.

The first creature I saw was a monkey. They are very comfortable with human presence and so are most of the locals, weaving past without a second glance.

I saw many monkeys on the trail: fighting, playing, picking insects off each other and carrying babies. A woman interrupted my photo session with a firm warning that 'they can be vicious'.

Thankfully I was able to stare them all down so I have no battle scars to speak of.

The entrance to the rainforest trail is well marked in the Singaporean way. They ran out of room for things you couldn't do, so had to add them on the side. They also kindly warn you to beware of falling branches and thunder storms. The forecast said 50% chance of rain. I figured those were good odds, so into the wilds I went.

I had some really lovely moments of peace on the trail between encounters with other people, but the noise never ceased. I don't know how native people slept here. In the video I mistakenly label the sound as a bird, it is probably a cicada.

The cicadas sound like those little golf carts in airports warning you to get out of the way. Or they just hum, consistently. Occasionally a bird song would break through and once I think I heard a frog.

I didn't see a lot of the wild life detailed on the website, the skinks and monitors agreed with the taxi driver apparently, but I did find a giant tree ant.

While friendly, my can driver was not clear on my desired destination. I wanted to go to the parking lot on the north east side and I ended up on the south of the reservoir. I decided the extra 5km would be good for me and I'm glad I did the longer hike around the eastern side.

Along the way there were many huts to allow visitors to hide from sudden rainstorms, or take a nap.


When I finally reached the Tree Top Walk I was drenched in sweat and eager to walk on the suspension bridge draped across a small canyon.

It swayed a bit under my feet, but mostly it was a solid experience. After zip lining in Queensland from tree top to tree top, having something firm under your feet seems exceptionally safe, even at that height. It was so bright I could hardly see without my sunglasses.

The loop trail that returns to the road is a well maintained path that is predominantly wood decking raised a bit off the forest floor. So I was surprised to see a quote from John Muir bolted to the deck in this sanitized version of a rain forest.

On the way out, a friendly woman from Mexico let me know that despite the signs, I was on the right path to the exit. Four languages and a picture - I certainly got the message and stayed on my side of the fence.

I made it out of the rainforest without so much as a mosquito bite, which is unheard of for me, and headed back to the metropolis to meet friends at the Andy Warhol exhibit at the Marina Bay Sands Art and Science museum.

I saw the famous stuff and less famous stuff and liked the shoes the best. The cow wallpaper was fun but not really my style. After Warhol I decided to pay the extra S$6 to see a Magnum photography exhibit, Inside Out, which was worth it. I'm always impressed by that organizations consistent good work. One piece really got me in the "I, Tokyo" section by Jacob Au Sobol, it was an old Japanese man with a cigarette in his mouth and a black cat held firmly in his hand, staring into the camera. Very dark and compelling.

As I was lifted physically out of the basement and emotionally out of the other worlds those photos took me, I saw the tropical rains lashing the windows in the main lobby, a beautiful piece of art in itself.

Somehow I was lucky enough to catch a cab and beat my friends to the Mexican restaurant on Merchant's road called Iguana Cafe. So I ordered a pitcher of Margaritas and wrote out my adventure to share with you.

Chinese Immersion

I'm in China again, and immersed in the second language I've chosen to study. 

In a recent lesson I found a new word, gang (刚) which means "just after" in the context I was learning. Whenever I learn a new sound, I always look up what other words sound the same, so I know what people might hear me say. Sadly, this time one word that came back means "anus", same tone too.  I suppose this is not likely to be misunderstood since people won't expect me to say anus in a friendly conversation. But still, it makes you ponder how this language has been used so effectively for so long despite being rife with easy communication mistakes.

We have some of the same in English, but not nearly as much. I used to hate studying Spanish tenses, but now I wish for such a reliable indicator of time. I try to make sense of the overlapping sounds and symbols through silly mnemonic tricks and I get laughed at a lot.  Things like, "since the word for 'surprised' is the character for 'eat' next to one that looks like 'Jing' from Beijing, I am 'surprised to be eating a city'". But the Chinese don't see the relationship, they see 'surprised', I see a mashup of other characters I know from other contexts.

I can order coffee at the Starbucks, where I say "gei wo xiao bei bing ka fei dai zou" and they respond, "tall iced coffee to go". I know that "yo" can mean "right", or "have" or "again", depending on tone and context. I can sing a song about colors that has the line "red, the sun shakes its head and laughs". Not very useful, but fun to sing while waiting in lines.

This weekend I went to a theatre to see what was showing and found Looper, translated to "ring like envoy". Not bad as far as name translations go. Thankfully it is too new for dubbed versions to be out, so I get to see it. My first movie theater experience in ages!

Funny story about Looper, it was supposedly a record breaking box office in China, but turns out, you need to divide Chinese Yuan by 6.3 to get US dollars. I guess that was a Looper Blooper.

http://www.deadline.com/2012/10/looper-in-china-dollars-are-not-yen-so-box-office-much-less-than-thought/

Yesterday I ate ginkgo nuts, supposedly good for your brain, but toxic if you eat more than 10 a day. They were a mushy texture and a delicate flavor, more like a bean than a nut. 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/14183017@N00/545521467

I am in the middle of a book called "Why the Chinese don't count calories" by a British author who lived in Beijing for 10 years. She mocks the fast food "Chinese" us Westerners grew up with and glories in the favors of real Chinese food.

She came before the western influence dispelled much of what she touts about Chinese cuisine, at least in the context of a visitor. Hopefully people at home still cook as she describes. Basically the idea is to eat lots of vegetables, rice is a good thing, and oil is not evil in the right context (mixed with chili, garlic, ginger, fresh veges). They don't eat sandwiches here, but they eat lots of mushrooms, and strange veges that I love. I think her ideas are solid, it's just that I love dumplings a bit too much and the big banquet meals that guests are taken too are not ideal. But my favorite dish falls into her category, 西红柿鸡蛋, tomato and egg stir fried. In this spelling, tomato literally translates to "western red persimmon" and on the iPad, there is an option to replace the word with an icon, meaning that Chinese people use it enough to prefer an icon over the word.

I often find myself saying "wo bao le", I'm full! Which sounds very similar to the word for "bag", so I think of myself as having a full bag on my lap, or it is like the word for dumpling, which is often what I am full of, or look like. 

As a reminder that China is still a third world country, despite all the glitz and infrastructure in the Tier 1 cities, I heard a story this weekend about a requirement for the driver's license test. You have to dodge the man-holes in the road, swerving between them quickly. The reason is because they may not support the car's weight, or someone may have stolen the lid because the iron it is made of can be sold. Also a good note for pedestrians, don't walk and text or you may end up in a man-made hole. 

Getting Settled

It takes a while to feel comfortable in a place, even one that feels inviting.

My first few months without furniture and a network of friends was a hectic blur of work and discovery. I discovered that sometimes the dialect differences aren't just about new words, but words I know used differently.

You realize how much you counted on at home, how many simple daily tasks and interactions do not come for free, even in a land as similar as Australia. It didn't help that I came from New York, which is unique by most standards. I revel in the positive differences. The lack of smog, the wide open view of the sky from home and office. The bigger living spaces and laundry in my own apartment! And of course, the most important: the quality coffee and so many cafes!

The things that took the most time to adapt to were logistical things. Figuring out the trains and trams and learning that don't run all the time. Learning how long it takes to get from here to there and when to bring an umbrella (always or never depending on your personality). I just wear a hat and wait for the bad storms to pass.

This weekend I had the pleasure of going to a bar for a friend's birthday and finding I had been there before! Oh Frabjous day! I know at least 15 neighborhoods and have favorite cafes. When we met some Melbourne newbies I found I had advice to give on where to go.

It feels good to feel a bit settled in. So, as I do, I'm off to Asia for two weeks in October. I will missMelbourne more than usual.

Simple Pleasures

The perfect autumn weekend getaway turns out to be Daylesford, Victoria, Australia. Recommended by many friends, it is the spa-capital and possibly the gay-capital of Victoria. I know for sure that it is a blissful way to eat your way through locally produced fabulousness!

We stayed at the Lake House, a posh set of cozy rooms on the lake with a famous executive chef. You can hear her talk about her latest menu on the ABC.  I have had many expensive meals in my travels and this tops my list. I can't even name everything I ate, but it was all perfectly balanced flavors and properly sized. We bought a jar of the garlic aioli (yeah, I know, just garlic and mayo, but you have to taste this!) I had the teriyaki mackerel for entree and kangaroo with beetroot for main.

My dessert was a cheese selection from local farms, Adam's was a gorgeous work of art that tasted as smooth as it looks.

In the morning we walked off our memorable meal by the lake. It was gorgeous and crisp. The lake was smooth and the sky was clear.

The ducks and geese played about just like they were paid to do and we even found a cute little waterfall to complete the scene.

We spent 2 days and 1 night in Daylesford and managed to cram in an amazing amount. We went to the spa, played basketball, walked the lake, visited the Wombat Botanical Gardens, the Convent Gallery (twice!), the Sunday Market, Cliffy's, Mill's Market (Antiques) and we finished with a brief but memorable stop at Trentham Falls.

The hat is an acquisition from the Sunday Market, thanks to Bob the hat maker from Gorden. The falls were a surprise in an otherwise gently sloping countryside (see below). They fall 32 meters (almost 100 feet) and we read later that the part we were standing on is likely to succumb to erosion based on cracks and water seepage. Seemed solid to me!

I'm back in Melbourne stashing away my various foodie acquisitions; salami, cheese, sauces and biscuits. I was so inspired I made some cornbread tonight. Nothing like homemade fresh things!

Burials and Legacy

I wrote this entry last August, but I found it hard to post. Now with Mother's Day coming up I felt the need to share some thoughts on my "mum".

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Last weekend I visited many tombs in Xi'an, dedicated to impressive emperors who had slaves to command and wealth to bury with them. The most impressive was Emperor QinShiHuang, who had his people move mounds of dirt and build mini cities and a full army to protect him. Today tourists by the bus load are in awe of this accomplishment. He killed the artisans who did the work so no others could have such guardians in death.

Last week was the 4th anniversary of my mother's death. A few of us took notice and mourned in our way. You could say we have adopted Patricks Point in Northern California as her monument. It inspires a quiet awe but mostly a sense of peace in a state park on the edge of the Pacific. Which I think is appropriate for the way Julia lived her life. 

The Chinese believe you live on in a way and so they burn slips of paper that represent wealth, like money, sometimes paper houses, or paper cars. The emperors before Qin, and likely after, often killed their court to join them in death. Qin wanted something even more representative of his wealth to carry through time. Despite all his wealth, it took decades to create. It then took modern science and decades to reconstruct. Much of what he left has forever eroded with time.

Traditional Chinese in the countryside bury their dead and then visit the graves on grave sweeping day, where whole communities go to tend the graves of their  ancestors. Sometimes they don't even know whose grave, but they tend out of respect for those that came before. Modern Chinese urban dwellers must cremate their loved ones and perhaps buy a locker to store them in. There is not enough land to bury them all. A stark comparison to the lavish parkland that surrounds the Emperor's Tomb.

After losing my parents and step father I realized how ill prepared I was to cope. I am not part of a community with a grave site to tend. We have no family plot. We have no rituals that were passed down to us to mark the grieving period, show respect, ensure their soul is safely on the "other side".

I didn't give anything to my mother to take with her except my love. This is not something that will be found by generations in the future and wondered at. It will fade with my memories as with most of humanity. Patrick's point will stand for many thousands of years and then it will also pass into some other form. I wonder if those rocks struggle against destiny and strive to leave a legacy like humans do or if they are wise and accepting of their fate.  

I suppose I am part of my mother's legacy. But rather than a buried relic, I am an animated force in this world and struggling to make my own mark. My goal is to touch many lives and know more of the world than QinShiHuang ever knew existed.

An American in the Middle East

I spent my last night in Amman, Jordan by enjoying a $55 bottle of South African wine on top of Le Royal hotel, where the white stone walls light up in various colors and the neon minarets twinkle in the distance. Then we had $2 schawarma for dinner, the perfect ending to an intense week in a, somewhat, foreign land.

I was expecting to be judged, as an American or as a woman who shows her hair or as a non-Muslim. I'm opinionated and loud and I like to drive. But it turns out, that's ok here, in the right circles.

I met Adam's parents and they welcomed me with famed Jordanian hospitality. His mother told me stories of being 19 and going to Kuwait to work so her brothers could go to school. She raised her children there during the first Gulf war. His father told me how oil refineries work and how he kept Iraqi guards from stealing his car during the occupation. They fed me until I burst with stuffed white zucchinis called "cousa" and spinach "pies". 

From the top of Mount Nebo I saw the promised land as identified by Moses. It was so hot there I can understand why the land by the sea appealed. I was told that at certain times, the tides on the Red Sea make it easier to pass, so perhaps Moses didn't part the Sea so much as he knew when it parted naturally. 

I met a Canadian women whose family fled Palestine many years ago. Her life took an interesting path that has resulted in her involvement in the film industry in Jordan where she tries to get Palestinian refugees jobs on set. She taught me about being a clown and how she outgrew her tutu. I met a French woman who married a German/Lebanese and they are raising kittens in a lovely flat with a shared outdoor pool. They had to lock the gates to their apartment complex, not because of a security concern but to keep conservative Muslims from using it as a shortcut and gawk at them in swimsuits on the way to prayer. 

I wore my bikini at the Dead Sea and covered myself in mud and floated in the salty warm water. Then we splashed down the water slide in one of the three pools staggered on the shore above. Then we drove 3 hours from the lowest place on earth, 400 meters below sea level, up to 810 meters above sea level where the Nabateans built a city long before Christ was born, called Al Batra, or Petra. There we hiked up 800 steps to Al Dier, the Monestary at the "end of the world". The last time Adam had been there he rode in a blackhawk helicopter with a film crane to help shoot Transformers 2. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade filmed outside the Treasury, the most famous part of Petra. Jordanians pay 1 JD ($1.4) and foreigners pay 50 JD ($70) to get in. The entire city is carved from large sandstone formations that glow red in the morning sun. It is truly a wonder of the ancient world and worth any effort to see, by helicopter if possible.

I regularly saw women covered in what we call "burqas", but that is just the name for the head covering. I saw men in the "dish dashi" that is common for men of the gulf, and I call a "white dress". But I saw just as many people in "Western" attire and women dressed to attract attention.  I learned that Jordan, Syria, Lebanon and Palestine identify with each other and often dislike their oil rich neighbors in the gulf. The Sunni/Shia divide is much like the Catholic/Protestant wars. The Shia believe that Gabriel made a mistake going to Mohamed and should have blessed his cousin Ali. Let's hope they make peace with their differences sooner than the Christian sects did. "Inshallah" is a common Arabic phrase, which translates to "God Willing", but also often means "Ain't gonna happen". 

Amman was once called Philadelphia and men hug and kiss and call each other "habibi", which means "my love". There is no gas grid, so having a gas stove means you buy butane tanks from the delivery truck. Since you don't know when it is coming, it plays a song, like the ice cream trucks we have in the US.  Water is limited, so it is delivered weekly and stored in tanks for use during the week. People complain of corruption, some of the stories sound familiar, like bridges that are not needed, others a bit silly, like speed bumps on the side roads so people will take the toll road. There is a TV channel dedicated to showing weddings, fireworks and all. 

Ramadan is a month of fasting and no one I spoke to had anything good to say about it. Mostly they hate it because everyone uses it as an excuse to be grumpy and lazy. The presumed intention is to learn what it is like to be poor and hungry, thus humbling you and helping you appreciate what you have. But just as Christmas isn't really about Jesus anymore, Ramadan is really about the feasts at sunset instead of the insight found in deprivation. Thankfully I missed that time of year.

Traffic in Jordan is heavenly for anyone who has ever driven in Malaysia, Beijing or Mumbai. But it is not for the faint of heart. If you think New York cab drivers are aggressive and pedestrians should cross at lights, just know that they are being responsible in comparison to the madness that comes with large drive circles and and lax traffic law enforcement. Lanes? Why yes, I'll take both, thank you.

All the luxury hotels have barricades, bomb residue tests, and metal detectors. Yet you will never hear about a school shooting. Theft and petty violence is rare. I felt as safe as in any Western city, perhaps more so. The US embassy is protected like a fort, "NO PHOTOS" is the welcome sign. I am sure there are anti-American groups here, but I did not encounter any negativity other than towards George W Bush and, really, who can blame them? 

America provides almost $500 million in aid to Jordan annually. I visited many sites with plaques thanking the American generosity. This makes me proud and sad all at once. I know that small town post offices are closing and US teachers fight for their wages. Is it right that we are peddling our influence here at the cost of our own values at home? 

There is so much I did not see, from Jerash in the north to Aqaba on the Red Sea. Clearly I will have to return someday and continue my exploration of this culturally rich and complicated region. I hear Lebanon is amazing!