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But first, coffee

We woke to a strange feeling. A real dichotomy of emotions. Elation, knowing that we were in Puglia, waking to the gorgeous sunshine of Monopoli. We had days and days stretched ahead of us to explore this beautiful part of the world. Yet, deflated remembering the football result from last night’s Euro Final.

I prepared fresh coffee, putting thoughts of football firmly behind me, and we sat out in the early morning sunshine, under a cloudless sky, making a plan for the day. For many weeks, possibly months, these small towns in Puglia were simply something from the pages of Instagram. Places we discovered through social media and immediately added to our “must visit” list. However, this resulted in a list that was long enough to support a whole year in the region. We had three weeks. Life is a compromise, and travel is no different.

Breakfast in Monopoli

The first day of these three weeks started well. With a fresh, and still warm, slice of Puglia’s famous focaccia for breakfast. Served with “un cafe”, a delicious shot of espresso. Our AirBnB was situated right in the old town of Monopoli, amongst so many bars and cafes, and mere steps from the very inviting blue waters of the Adriatic Sea. A sea that we would find ourselves swimming in before too long. Monopoli is a beautiful town. Situated some 500 kilometres  from the nation’s capital, Rome, and just across the Adriatic sea from Croatia and Albania it had a distinctly different feel to the places we have visited in the Italian north. 

The Greek influence

We both remarked how much we were reminded of places like Dubrovnik and Korçula in the south of Croatia. A lot of this is down to the history of the region. The buildings are very white, much like you would see further south, and across Greece. Not very surprising when you consider that in around 8BC, Puglia became a Greek colony. The name Monopoli itself is Greek. Mono and polis, meaning unique and singular.

In the time since then it seems as though Puglia has been invaded by everyone, leaving a distinct character and cuisine behind. If it wasn’t for the ubiquitous Aperol Spritz you could be forgiven for forgetting that you were even in Italy.

The Aperol Spritz ritual

But in Italy we most definitely were. And drinking Aperol Spritz became one of our daily rituals. At home in Australia, it feels a little like a fad, seeing Aperol Spritz bars pop up through summer. Being in Italy it felt the most normal thing in the world. Having travelled top to bottom through this beautiful country I can confirm that Aperol Spritz is the number one aperitivo drink for all Italians.

In summer, when they are not drinking Aperol, the Italians are at the beach. Being coastal, Monopoli is home to a number of delightful small beaches. I use the term, “beach” lightly, as it seems that any small patch of land, however many rocks there are, between the land and sea is called a spiaggia (beach) and is taken over with parasols and sun loungers. And this being Italy they were all packed, people vying for a spot of sand/rock edging the crystal clear blue waters. Very inviting waters. With the mercury hitting the mid 30s it wasn’t long before we were in our bathers and having a dip. 

Dolce far niente

It may have only been day one but we were taking to Italy like a duck to water. Swim in the sea. Lunch with a cold glass of local wine. An afternoon siesta. Then out for early evening aperitivo. Yes, an Aperol Spritz. One thing that we noticed immediately is how seriously the southern Italians take their afternoon siesta. Shops and restaurants all (yes, all) close between the hours of 2pm to around 7pm. We struggled to find anywhere open in these sleepy afternoon hours. A full embrace of the famous Italian saying, “dolce far niente”, loosely translated as the sweet doing of nothing.

We adapted. Stocking up on cold beer before the shops closed, we had chilled afternoons, napping, reading and catching up on my travel journal. This left us fresh and ready for our evening passeggiata, an Italian tradition. Strolling through any street in Italy in the early evening gives you a real insight into how the locals live. Sat on stools outside their door watching the world go by. Sat with friends around a small table playing cards. Elderly couples walking hand in hand, probably as they have done for the last 40 years or so. The younger generation meeting up with friends in bars and drinking, you guessed it, Aperol Spritz. The dolce vita.

One thing we did notice, being this far south, was that many places were cash only. Coming from a country that is almost exclusively card (and phone) only, this has caught us out in the past. Memories of stomping up and down the (very) steep hills of Porto looking for an ATM still bring me out in sweats. Thankfully, Monopoli is a lot flatter, and smaller, and each day we were easily able to ensure we had some Euros in currency. And that we were able to afford that perfect pizza for dinner. I could write a whole blog on pizza. I once did. Suffice to say, in Puglia we found pizza just as good as the best from Naples, the spiritual home of pizza.

Bring out your skeletons

Enjoying the good life, we also got to reflect on life in general. And that we are not here forever. As is fairly common in Italy, Monopoli has a crypt. A place that skeletons get to call home. In the cathedral we saw the skeletons of monks from the 1700s. An eerie sight and one that you become accustomed to whilst visiting churches in Italy.  Momento mori.

From visiting the dead, to the sleep of the dead. All the travelling, swimming, and possibly all the wine, meant that as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out for the night. Waking early, and before we were ready to leave this gorgeous little town, it was time to pack up and see if our Fiat 500 was where we left it. It was. Two days in Monopoli left us yearning for more, and thankfully, we had more. Today our destination was Ostuni, 40 minutes south, with a detour. And what a detour.

Alberobello 

Alberobello is as hard to pronounce as it is to spell. Thankfully, it is easy to find. A short 30 minutes drive from Monopoli. If you don’t know why we were visiting, and why we were very excited, let me explain. Trulli. Lots of them. If you are not familiar with the name, I am sure you have at least seen a picture of them.

Alberobello is home to hundreds of trulli. A World Unesco Heritage Site, Alberobello has been home to trulli since at least the 14th century. A very unique dry stone construction that is unique to this part of the world. Naively, I imagined that we would see a couple, here and there, as we made the 30 minute drive into Alberobello. Victoria knew otherwise. For this road trip she had done some meticulous planning and once we had parked the car she knew where we were headed. I’m glad one of us did.

The main street in the historic centre of Alberobello is lined with trulli. There are hundreds of them. They are quite the sight. Very impressive. And if this was anywhere else in the world we would have been surrounded by influencers. You know, those annoying people who tell you that you “are spoiling their perfect picture of the white churches of Santorini”. The last person that said that to me is now influencing nothing more than the bottom of the Santorini cliffs.

Here, it was relatively busy but nothing like we have experienced in other places in the world that are slowly being destroyed by Instagram tourism. Maybe this part of Italy is yet to be truly “discovered”. Maybe we are ahead of the hordes. This, I am happy with. 

A taste of Puglia

With a satisfied smile, we found a little osteria in a quiet square, and I had my first taste of orrichiette con cime di rapa, perhaps Puglia’s most famous dish. Little ear shaped pasta (orrichiette meaning ear in Italian), with turnip tops and a sprinkling of cheese. A dish of startling simplicity, of which the region is famous for. It wasn’t the last time I would have this delighful dish, and as we strolled back to the car, with our thoughts turning to Ostuni, I was already thinking about dinner, the all important Aperol Spritz.

Ciao!

The best laid plans

It wasn’t planned this way. Who would choose it? When we planned this holiday many months ago we didn’t even know when the final of the European Championships would be. Let alone that England would be playing. Yet, here we were, flying through the night sky, high over Europe, disconnected from the world as somewhere many miles below us, in Berlin, England were kicking off against Spain in their second consecutive Euros final.

In the dark

We land and all around us there are phones being switched out of airplane mode. No point in us doing the same as our Australian phones have no data. Suddenly I can hear commentary. Albeit, in a language that isn’t English. A small child across the aisle to us has the game on his phone, and just as we are about to ask the score, he cheers. The question is, who is he supporting? I have to find out. 

“Goal?”, I ask?

I get a nod. Nothing else. Come on, kid, give me something. 

“Who scored?”

I feel instantly deflated at his reply. We are losing 1:0, conceding not long after the second half resumes.

We shuffle off the plane and the night heat of Bari immediately hits us. The flight from Stansted airport was short and painless. A couple of weeks visiting family and friends in England had come to a close. It takes years for these visits to come around, and they go by in a flash. A blur of catch ups, lunches, and many drinks. And each time we meet, we are all a couple of years older. 

Collecting the hire car in Bari

I feel like I am ageing even faster as we make our way to clear customs and pick up a hire car. My phone is now connected to the airport wifi and now keep refreshing BBC Sport for updates to the football. I have a flashback to using Teletext on a Saturday afternoon to check the Division 1 football scores. We are still losing as we fend off Europcar’s insistent offer of roadside assistance and full insurance to remove all excess. I am tired, we are losing in the final, and no, I do not want to give you any more money. Grazie.

Just as the keys are handed over, I cheer. Not because we finally have a Fiat 500 to tour Puglia, but because Cole Palmer has just equalised. Game on.

Leaving the airport terminal we head left. Past the bright lights of the money exchange counters that make all airports look the same. It is dark as we enter the rental car park and it takes us a while to find the car. Parked at the very back. We enjoyed driving the Fiat 500 whilst in Provence a couple of years ago so we decided to book another. Thankfully, as we travel light, we could just about get all our luggage in. As we pull out of the car park, I see that I have lost wifi. And with it my hopes of following along to the conclusion of the football final.

Leaving Bari for Monopoli

Whilst Bari is supposedly a beautiful city to spend a couple of days in, we headed south. Our Puglia road trip started with a 50 minute drive down the coast to the town of Monopoli. Settling into the left hand drive, negotiating the very dark motorway and Italian drivers taking no notice of the speed limits, Vik was a picture of composure. Whilst everyone around her drove like they were in the midst of a great emergency, Vik calmly and confidently had us in Monopoli before midnight. It would have been slightly earlier but we misread Google Maps and ended up doing a tour around the outskirts of Monopoli. 

Monopoli has an historic centre, like many of the towns across Italy. And we knew that we couldn’t take cars in the old town. The only information we had received from the host of the AirB&B was that we could park in the white lines for free, and in the blue lines with a paid parking ticket. Late at night, tired, and not knowing whether we were European Champions or not, this is a harder task than it should be. Some roads had no lines at all. What did this mean for parking? 

Will the car be here tomorrow?

As we were scratching our heads I saw a little car leave what looked like a car park, across the road from where we were. I frantically waved Vik across to the vacant spot. We looked around the area and could see nothing that would suggest it was for residents, or that there was a time limit on how long we could leave the car. We got our bags, locked up the car and walked to our accommodation. Would the car be there in the morning or would it be towed away. We were too tired to worry. 

It was time to sleep. And dream of the 2026 World Cup. The long wait since 1966 continues. Spain scored a late winner and broke all of our hearts. It’s time to take advice from Ted Lasso. It is time to be a goldfish.

Buona notte

Heading from Perth to Europe in search of sun

For those of you that have seen the photos on Instagram (explore_with_fran) and Facebook, you will know by now that we have recently been on our winter (from home in Australia) holiday. Heading up to Europe in the hope of warmer climes. It turns out that we had Italy to thank for the weather. England did the usual. Called itself summer and yet it was Autumn that showed up. Thankfully, we had managed to pack for all eventualities.

The world’s shortest trip to Bali

From the outset, it was quite the adventure. And this was only day one. In a quest to save money, and we saved a packet, we started our long journey back to the UK with a flight from Perth to Bali. A Jetstar flight was a small inconvenience considering what was to follow.  Why an inconvenience? If you are Australian you will be familiar with the “no frills” airline, Jetstar. If you are in the UK, think of Ryanair or Easyjet. You get the picture.

Bali is a short hop from Perth. Even closer than a trip to Sydney. Yes, by quite some distance. But, it did feel weird to us to collect our bags at Denpasar airport, scurrying past all the taxi hawkers, “taxi, taxi?”, and back into the airport heading for Departures. Our shortest trip to Bali by quite some margin. That said, we still had to have our visa on arrival (VOA) and our customs declaration form. A bureaucratic necessity that we will also had to do 5 weeks later. Bali also now has a tourist tax, but this was something we could skip this time as we were only transiting through the airport.

The heat and smells of Bali are so familiar to us. We were there at Easter trying out a new part of the island. The humidity hits you as soon as you get off the plane. You will never know how tempted we were to jump in a Grab (Bali’s version of Uber) to Canggu and spend a blissful 5 weeks in one of Bali’s excellent villas or hotels. Alas, we will have to save this holiday for another time. Xmas, perhaps? Right then, we had places to be. And right now, sweating in the heat of Bali, we were checking into our flight to Dubai.

Living as wolves

I should explain why we were in Bali. And why we were heading to Dubai.  Flying long haul is hard work. Hard on the body. And it gets harder the older I get. Being cramped in economy is no way to fly halfway around the world. So, this being our first visit to the UK in a couple of years we decided we were going to treat ourselves to business class. This was before we saw how much the prices had escalated in just a couple of years. Eye watering.

Then, rather fortuitously, a colleague of Victoria’s mentioned that if you flew to Bali and connected to a flight there you could make a big saving. We checked. And yes, the saving was indeed huge. So huge that we dropped a chunk of our savings on return business class flights from Bali to Europe with Emirates. It was to be our first experience of their business class offering. How would it compare to my all time favourite, Qatar? I will report back in part 2 of this travel blog.

I have previously said I would rather live one day as a wolf, than one hundred days as a sheep. It was time to be wolves. And as we landed in Manchester, after a very long travel day, and jumped into the Emirates provided chauffeured car for the drive to Halifax, we were happy, if tired, wolves.

Memento mori.

Smell the Eucalyptus

Strolling through the park, as we started our usual weekend walk, the smell of eucalyptus was strong. There had been overnight rain. Heavy rain. The kind of rain that signals the changing of the seasons. The grass becomes a lot greener. The lake rises a little. The pelicans head north for warmer weather. Mating frogs call out to each other. A sound we haven’t heard in over a year. And the temperature has dropped. Oh yes, summer is slowly becoming a distant memory. 

When it rains, it rains

At home there has been a wardrobe change. Gone are the oppresive days of 40 degree heat. There is less need for shorts and an increased demand for the jumpers and hoodies that hibernate through the oppressive Perth summer. The flip flops get little use. It is time for boots. Long trousers. And a rain jacket.

When it rains in Perth, it rains. Torrential. Our apartment is on the upper level of two and is the first line of defence against the downpour. The sound is deafening. So much that we can’t hear the TV. It becomes a sound track all of its own. 

Makuru in Perth

This morning’s soundtrack is dominated by the cockatoos, congregating on the edge of Lake Monger. Squawking. It sounds like they are making great demands of each other. It sounds almost violent. Perhaps it is, in the bird world. They could learn a lot from their friends, the pelicans. Majestically gliding across the lake.

As we continue walking around the lake, we can feel the dampness in the air. We can smell it. The “white fellas” would call this Autumn. Arriving on boats from England, the colonists tried to replicate what they had at home. Forcing nature into the four seasons they called Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Tried to grow the same crops. Perturbed as to why they didn’t take. Not considering that they were in a whole new world. A new land. A land that has been home to people for over 60,000 years.

And over those thousands of years, these First Nations people had worked out how to partner with the land. Work symbiotically. In harmony. They weren’t “in nature”, they were nature. Not for them the imposed four seasons of the colonists. The indigenous people of Australia align to a six season calendar. The changing weather, and changing landscape tells them that we are now in the season of Makuru. Represented by the colour blue, symbolising rain and cold weather. 

Makuru runs through June and July, at which point we will have Djilba, in August, symbolising the growth of wildflowers and plants. Our “winter”, or Makuru, will be spent in the Northern Hemisphere, hopefully enjoying a traditional summer. Although, from what I am hearing from up there, summer has yet to arrive. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty in thinking I will be living in shorts and t-shirts.

Exploring the Back Yard

Before embarking on our bi-annual trip to the UK and Europe, we have been doing more exploring in our own part of the world. I got to spend 4 days in Sydney. Unfortunately, not as a tourist. I was over for some coach training and spent most of the time in a classroom with a passionate group of coaches from across Australia. That said, our training was over at Manly Beach so each day I had the pleasure of the world’s best commute, crossing over on the iconic green and gold ferry.

Exploring Australia’s South West

A little closer to home we spent a long public holiday weekend in the South West. For once, we didn’t get as far as our beloved Margaret River. Home for the weekend was an eco cabin at Southcamp, a large brewery located just 30 minutes north of Margaret River. This was our first stay in Dunsborough, as we usually just pass through. And we got to see a lot more of this small town. Scratch the surface and there is a lot to enjoy.

Being lovers of good food, we thoroughly enjoyed our dinner at Blue Manna bistro, which I now know is named after a crab. Makes sense, for a seafood restaurant. Victoria had a delicious blue swimmer crab linguine. I also had linguine, with fresh seafood. After a period of 5 weeks of sobriety, this weekend we allowed ourselves a couple of glasses of wine. The chardonnay was a perfect accompaniment. 

Morning walks along the oceanfront, trying to spot the migrating humpback whales, in vain. Breakfast in one of the many excellent cafes dotted around town. Afternoons were spent in the cabin, reading. Isn’t this what long weekends are for?

Football comes to Perth

We also got to, finally, visit Optus Stadium in Perth. And I was underwhelmed. We were there for the football. An Italian extravaganza with AC Milan taking on AS Roma. Sadly, Optus Stadium was built for Aussie Rules so it is a round stadium. Not ideal for football as you are so far from the pitch. An Italian dinner was the obvious choice pre-match, and probably one of the only times I have had a night out, and gone to the football, without having an alcoholic drink. Our holiday health kick continued, with us indulging in non alcoholic Peroni.

Looking after body and mind

Part of the health kick has included reigniting our love for reformer pilates, something we did for a few years in Sydney. Having a studio so close to the apartment here in Perth was the perfect excuse and we have really loved getting back into it. I had forgotten quite how hard it is. But, great for my aging body. Regular gym sessions, weekly pilates, weekend walks, and the best part of 8 weeks of no alcohol and I’m feeling in fine fettle.

How long the fine fettle will continue is up for debate. Next week sees us head overseas to escape winter. Some long overdue family time, and then a few weeks exploring the best of Puglia and Sicily. I can almost taste the pasta and wine already. Apart from a long weekend in Bali, this will be our first overseas holiday in over a year. We are ready.

Ciao, ragazzi!

Bali, rediscovered

Much has changed in Bali since my very first visit, back in 1994. Heck, much has changed with me, so this is not much of a surprise. 

What hasn’t changed are the smiles. I saw that Finland was recently named the happiest country in the world. I would like to nominate Bali as the smiliest island in the world. Would anyone like to second my motion?

In the world’s largest country made entirely of islands, Bali may well be one of 17,508 islands (by official records) but it remains the one island we keep returning to. The smiles of the friendly locals is just one reason.

Travelling in Bali

Over the years we have been fortunate enough to spend quite a bit of time on the island of Bali, exploring the best of what it has to offer. Regular readers of this travel blog will know that we ended our 10 month travel sabbatical last year with a multi stop, multi week exploration of the island. Spending time in Seminyak, Nusa Dua, and Ubud. All very different destinations.

For Easter, we returned to the land of the smiles and stayed somewhere new again. Our five nights were spent in Canggu, a place that would have looked a little different just a few years ago, and would have been on very few traveller’s radars back in 1994 when I was getting drunk in Sari’s Club, Kuta. Right now, like many of the tourist destinations in Bali there is heaps of construction happening. Canggu has very quickly become one of Bali’s hot spots. The place to be. It is not hard to see why.

Exploring Canggu, Bali

Taking advantage of our proximity to Bali, we flew out of Perth on a Wednesday evening and were in bed at the hotel before midnight. This gave us 5 nights and 4 full days of rest and relaxation. The Eastin Ashta resort was our base, right in the heart of Canggu and mere steps from the beach. We had all that to explore, but first, sleep.

Day one dawned brightly, sunny, and the unmistakable Bali humidity hit us as soon as we left our air conditioned hotel room. I was full of excitement. One of my favourite things about the hotels in Southeast Asia is the buffet breakfast. Where else can you start with yogurt, move on to eggs, and finish with a bowl of nasi goreng (fried rice)? Eyeing the nearby pool I just knew that I would have to be doing some lengths on this trip.

As always in this part of the world, days fell into a relaxing rhythm. Breakfast. Mornings around the pool reading. And afternoons exploring Canggu, checking out likely options for our lunch and dinners. Yes, food is one of the pleasures of a holiday in Bali. And the prices remain so low that a $3 beer is a necessity, not a luxury. Paired with a $4 nasi goreng we had a filling, tasty, and very economical lunch. 

Coffee culture in Bali

One daily necessity that does come with an Australian price tag is coffee. And with that price tag comes a coffee that would hold its own in Melbourne, Australia’s coffee capital. Coffee culture in Bali has exploded and looks a world away from my first visit in 1994 where Nescafe was the coffee du jour. I managed to get around a few of the coffee shops in Canggu, but like much of what we saw whilst travelling through Southeast Asia last year, they are no longer hidden gems. They are springing up everywhere, much to my delight.

And with the coffee shops, come the restaurants. Dinner brings many options and as darkness falls we found ourselves heading from beach to restaurant. With the local warungs serving Nasi Goreng for $4, there are now places to eat at the other end of the spectrum. We had an amazing Japanese dinner at Yuki, a restaurant that would not have looked out of place in Manhattan, New York. High end restaurant design, 5 star service, and food that looked too good to eat. We ate it. It was outstanding. 

The sun sets in Bali

Also outstanding are the sunsets? With Echo Beach in Canggu being on the west coast, the sunsets are stunning. A stroll to the beach was mandatory, based on the numbers of people joining us. And the friendly Balinese locals have thought of everything. Cool boxes offer an endless supply of cold Bintang beer for you to enjoy as you watch the remnants of the day fall over the horizon.

If you have ever considered a holiday to Bali I would say, what are you waiting for? There are so many places on the island to visit. The locals are some of the friendliest people you will meet. The beer is ice cold, and cheap. The food is delicious, whether you eat in warung or a fancy restaurant. And the sun shines. A lot. If you find yourself staying on the west of the island you will be rewarded with a sunset that you will find hard to beat, however much you travel.

We are not sure when we will back. So we finsihed this trip in the same way we finished our visit last year. I found my way to the tattoo studio and Victoria went for a massage.

Until the next time, friends…

Last minute preparations for the visitors to Perth

One minute you are buying a new mattress and another wine glass so there is one for everyone. The next minute you are wondering what to do with the extra glass. It all goes by in a blur. An exciting blur. A fun filled blur. But a blur all the same.

Recently, we said a sad farewell to Jane and Dave who have been over in Perth, visiting us from England. They have previously visited us in Sydney and this was their first trip to the wild west of Australia. Escaping the last of the English winter by baking in the remaining remnants of our Perth summer. In the time that they were here we gave the bottle recycling people a little more work to do. Increased the profits of the local pizzeria. And kept the Margaret River wine industry going for a little while longer.

Western Australia’s Wonderful Wine

It wasn’t all about wine. We also got to return to some of our favourite restaurants, enjoying them again, as for the first time, through the eyes of our guests. Who knew that we would enjoy crayfish, oysters, prawns, crab, and raw scallops with our beef loving visitors? There was once a rumour that “beef” was Dave’s middle name but I am not sure this is true. They also now know that the world grows more grapes than Pinot Grigio. Semillon became a firm favourite and I wonder if they will find a bottle on the shelves of Tesco supermarket?

Supermarket shopping was one of the highlights of the Perth trip, with Jane getting to explore the wonders of Woolworths. Not the same Woolworths that she recalls so fondly from England. A brand that no longer adorns the UK high street. Jane discovered that Woolworths itself is not very exciting. Another supermarket much like the Tesco and Sainsbury’s that she is so familiar with. Although, she got a little giddy to discover Brussels Sprouts on the shelves. Alas, there was not a fig roll to be seen.

Sliding Doors

One thing she was less familiar with, as was Dave, it seems, is the sliding glass door you see in every home. Something I have come to take for granted whilst living in Australia. Obviously, Jane and Dave are a little less well aquainted. Both of them tried to defy physics, and emulate the magician, Dynamo, by walking right through a closed glass door. Yes, on separate occasions. They both tried to walk through the very same, closed, glass doors.

A loud crack made me jump and look up from my book in time to see Jane rebounding off the glass door. With Dave, I actually watched him walk towards the door and wondered why he wasn’t moving to open it. He decided to try and walk straight through it.  I know this is not funny. Even remotely. But, once I had checked that they were not injured I could not help but stifle a giggle or two. It is not something you see every day. And we got to see it twice.

Swan Valley, Australia’s Oldest Wine Region

Walking into glass doors was not enough to take the shine off the holiday that they got to enjoy. And we got to enjoy with them. Exploring our little suburb of Leederville and the many eating and drinking options. A day trip to the Swan Valley, the oldest wine region in Western Australia, where we experienced both the large corporate winery, Sandalfords, and a couple of much smaller ones, Lancaster Wines and Sitella. And yes, of course we walked away with wine from all three cellar doors.

Resting our legs, we called in at Padbury’s restaurant in the historic suburb of Guildford where Dave devoured the “instagram worthy” stack of thick, fluffy pancakes. Post pancakes, we called in for a drink at what is reputed to be WA’s oldest pub, the Rose and Crown, a long time Sunday lunch favourite spot of Mr and Mrs C. 

Magnificent Margaret River

It won’t surprise regular readers of this blog that we took our visitors to Margaret River for a long weekend. Of course we did. Did you expect anything else? We called for coffee at the cult classic “Crooked Carrot” cafe, breaking up the three hour journey south. The traffic was light and before we knew it we were pulling up at the beautiful Meelup Farmhouse where we had a delightful lunch. Share plates and a bottle of chilled white wine. Is there a better way to spend a Friday?

It got better, with a call at another favourite spot of ours, Wild Hop brewery. Cold beers all around, sat in the sunny courtyard, under the shade of a large parasol. Heaven. For our time in Margaret River we had a large AirBnB booked that was within walking distance of the town. And, importantly, within walking distance of West Coffee Co. for our early morning brew.  Our visitors continued to marvel at just how different the lifestyle in Australia is. With most people rising early, they were soon getting into the swing of things, sat in Margaret River drinking coffee before 8am.

Chicken Parmi, an Australian Classic

Perhaps just as importantly, within walking distance of the famous “Tav”. We could all have a few drinks at Settlers Tavern without the need to draw straws for who was going to be the skipper. The designated driver. We all had the opportunity to indulge in some of the best local beer around, from Beerfarm, and perhaps the best pub wine list in any pub across the country. Also, we got Dave to have his very first chicken parmi. He just had to, didn’t he? Myself and Victoria joined him. We knew just how good the parmi is at the Tav.

Morning walks along Gnarabup Beach from the iconic White Elephant cafe cleared any cobwebs away from the previous night. Spotting surfers catching waves, and marvelling at a pod of dolphins frolicking nearby. Life in Margaret River always slows down to a pace that I could very well get used to. The region has the best of everything. World class wines. Belting beers. Fabulous forests. And some of the best beaches you will have the privilege to walk on. I get the sense that our visitors started to understand why we spend so much time down there.

On the way home we called in at the seaside town of Busselton. Home of the longest pier in the southern hemisphere. A walk to the end is always good for working up a thirst. Which is fortunate as Busselton is home to two of our favourite breweries, Shelter and Rocky Ridge Tap House. We quenched our thirst, and had a great lunch at Shelter, before hitting the road back to Perth.

Beachside fish and chips on Rottnest Island

Closer to home, and impressive in a different way, Rottnest Island is truly a world class destination. Situated a short 30 minute boat ride away from Fremantle docks, there is so much more to “Rotto” than the ubiquitous Quokkas that Jane chased around the island trying to get her selfie. Whether it is quiet strolls along Pinky’s Beach, a walk up to the lighthouse, or simply having a great fish and chips with a few cold beers on the beachfront Hotel Rottnest pub, Rottnest is a must visit destination.

We were now into the final few days of the holiday. In the week we got to visit Sculptures by the Sea. Now in its 20th year, as at Bondi in Sydney, the beach is taken over by artists from all over the world, with sculptures, some more impressive than others. Much time, and head scratching prevailed as we tried to make sense of the meaning imbued by many of the sculptures. 

Checking the holiday spreadsheet, our final long lunch was at The Shorehouse in Swanbourne. Another favourite spot right on the beach. Our table order was simple. Four crab linguine dishes and a bottle of chilled white wine from the Swan Valley. Which turned into two bottles. Which might explain why Jane thought a surfer was carrying a musical organ, rather than his surfboard. Thankfully, there were no glass doors to negotiate.

Fond Farewells

Our last evening came around far too quickly. We decided to spend it just as we started, two weeks earlier. On the balcony at home with some of the best pizza in Perth (thank you Pappagallo) and a few drinks. Closing the circle. With the Uber ordered, our visitor’s bags packed, we said an emotional goodbye. A goodbye that was made a little easier knowing that we will be visiting the UK in June. 

I wonder if we can sneak in another trip to Margaret River before then…