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Two Years in Perth – What Next?

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Time to plan the next chapter

As we tick over two years in Perth it looks as though we might finally be reinstating our long held dream of travelling the world. The two nights we had booked here in Perth, back in March 2020 have stretched out to take in the whole of 2020, 2021, and now the summer and autumn of 2022.

Perth has been very good to us. And quite possibly the best place we could have ended up through COVID. I managed to secure a role that I have been in the whole time I have been here. I have met new people who have become friends. I found a community. A “collective”.  And I have taken my learning journey further than I could have expected when we landed in Perth on that dark night back in March, 2020. On the travel front, we have been busy. We have now travelled the whole length from Esperance in the south, all the way up to Exmouth on the north coast. Not all in one trip, but this is a distance of 2,238kms. That is a lot of long, straight, boring Western Auatralia roads. In fairness, there are also some scenic drives to keep things interesting.

Victoria has had a number of roles, trying out the market in Perth and getting to experience how organisations of differing sizes work over here in the wild, wild West. And it is different. Very different to my experience over in Sydney. Perth feels like a big town. With a gaping hole for its centre. The CBD is bereft of life with most people choosing to live in sprawling suburbs, north and south of the river. Yet, as we speak, sprawling apartment towers continue to be built. There is more tumbleweed than people.

The bright lights of Elizabeth Quay
The Bright Lights of Elizabeth Quay

Elizabeth Quay has been transformed over the years I have been coming to Perth, and it is currently in the middle of a development boom. In a few years from now, when the buildings are complete, I believe Elizabeth Quay has the potential to rival Circular Quay in Sydney for nightlife. This is if Elizabeth Quay finds its identity. Perth has come a long way over the years. It could go even further and be a destination that truly attracts overseas travellers away from the glitz of Sydney Harbour, and the 24 hour lifestyle of cosmopolitan Melbourne.

Margaret River, our “happy place”

Over the last two years you may have worked out that our hearts have been stolen by the beautiful Margaret River region. Already our favourite place in Australia, it will forever have a special place in our hearts after we eloped there and got married in the forest last year. The food scene down there is out of this world. Margaret River produces Australia’s premium wines. The scenery is second to none. And the coastline is better than you will find anywhere, however far around the globe you travel. A true “happy place” for us both.

Gnarabup Beach, Margaret River
Gnarabup, Margaret River

And whilst we have found our spiritual home over the last two years, we are now planning to head off and explore the world. After working out the best time to head off travelling we have now shared with our employers that we will be leaving at the end of May. The first month of our travels will be mostly in WA, as we say farewell to some of our favourite places. Yes, this will include Margaret River. And Fremantle. This gritty port city, 30 minutes south of Perth, also has something special. A real vibe that keeps drawing us back time and again. Breweries. Cool neighbourhoods. Great restaurants. And a community feel.

Time to explore the world

Leaving city life behind we will be heading to an island. Specifically, Hamilton Island. A place we love and were due to visit last December, to celebrate my milestone birthday. COVID put paid to this and so in June we will be finally doing this trip. Staying at the luxurious Qualia, on the island, we will be doing our utmost to celebrate my belated birthday. Picture, champagne and cocktails. Side trips to Noosa and Brisbane will lead us into leaving Australian shores for the first time in three years. 

Where to go?

Our initial plan was to cover South East Asia for a few months first but this would mean we wouldn’t get to the UK until the height of winter. If you know what winter in the UK is like you will appreciate why this is not a great option. It was 13 degrees in Perth this morning and I worried whether I had enough layers on. Our compromise is Singapore for a few nights, then a stop somewhere new for me. Dubai is a place I have never been to and I will be having my second stay in a Caesar’s Palace hotel.

July will see us hit the shores of the UK for the first time since 2019. Without a time constraint we will have the opportunity to slow down a little. Reconnect with family and friends. And take the chance to do a little sightseeing. I am also starting to realise that the football season will have started again by this point and I would love to get to a match. A new manager. A clear out of players. And United might once again be able to provide some excitement. All Mrs C wants is a very big gammon steak. Let’s hope we can both get what we want.

Deja Vu – seriously, are we leaving Australia, again?

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Leaving Sydney

Monday, March 23, 2020, was the day we left Sydney. The day we were due to embark on our travel sabbatical. Two years of saving. Allowing us to explore new countries, and to immerse ourselves in different cultures. We didn’t spend as much as we expected.

We got as far as Perth before the world closed in on itself. Countries took a protectionist approach to the burgeoning pandemic. Borders were closed to everyone but citizens of each country. Even within countries, such as here in Australia, borders were closed internally, creating mini countries within a country. It was a very strange time.

Leaving Sydney and heading in to the unknown

116 weeks later, some 813 days, we are once again packing up all our possessions, our life, and having them carted off to storage. This time we are doing it on the west coast. We could either say that we are just starting our travels, or we could reframe it as, we are now two years into it.

Leaving Perth

Either way, things are getting real. Again. We are down to a backpack each. And a day bag. The things in there are slightly different from two years ago. Newer, but we have had to apply the same minimalism. And it is hard. Difficult. Deciding what to pack when you could be away for 12 months. Living through different seasons. 

It may be the season of summer in the UK, where we will be spending our first large stint of time, but summer in the UK means something very different to summer elsewhere. So we have to be judicious with what we pack. A great tip I read many years ago, when embarking on long term travel, was to lay out all the clothes you think you need, then pack half of it. Easier said than done, believe me.

A Simpler Life

Although, once done, it does make travelling so much easier. No encumbrances. A couple of bags that hold everything you have. No space for trinkets and souvenirs that only gather dust once you are back home. A fruit bowl that looked “interesting” in the dimly lit market. A miniature camel that has no place in your lounge at home. No, none of that. 

Rooms at Qualia

We will be taking our bags and our first port of call will be Hamilton Island, in Queensland. The trip we had booked for my 50th celebration, last Xmas, and which got cancelled due to the aforementioned border closures.

A few months later than planned but we will be staying at the Qualia resort, something we are very excited about. Time to decompress after the last few weeks of arranging, packing up, and cleaning. Leaving a rental in Australia is rather intense if you want your bond money back. Then there are all the utilities to cancel. A virtual mailbox to find. The list goes on and on.

Qualia, here we come, eventually

The only thing on my list when we hit Qualia will be a dip in the pool and a cocktail, or three. And yes, before you remind me, we are travelling, not on holiday. So we have to reset our expectations, but for the first part of this trip we have agreed to a “holiday” budget. The hotels when we travel will have significantly fewer stars. If we can even afford a hotel.

The pool at Qualia

Until that time, we intend to kick back and enjoy ourselves. Starting with a strong coffee at Perth airport.

Au revior, Perth!

I will be sure to let you all know how we get on.

Hamilton Island – November 2018

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As I sat sipping my complimentary champagne, in the reception of the Beach Club hotel, with sweeping views out to the infinity pool, and beyond to the sea, I was reminded how blessed I am.  And everything I have to be grateful for.

Champagne at the Beach Club
Shouldn’t this be how every hotel greets you?

Met on arrival at Hamilton Island airport by the effervescent Beach Club staff, we were soon whisked off, in air-conditioned comfort, without even a thought for collecting our checked in bag.  In fact, the next time we saw it was in our room.  It got there before we did by some kind of island magic.

Having only 57 rooms, you may wonder how we managed to end up in room 211.   Yeah, I’m not sure either.  The Beach Club is split over two levels, and our room was upstairs, with a view that was simply breathtaking.  Lulled to sleep, and gently woken in the morning, by the sound of waves lightly lapping the shore, which was almost within touching distance, this really was a slice of paradise.

View from the room

Long being a fan of buying experiences over “things”, the holiday started in style.   Lounge access, priority boarding, and some excellent Margaret River Cabernet Sauvignon, so good I had to try a second glass, to complement our light lunch.  Confirming that I had made the right decision in taking Qantas up on their offer to upgrade to business class for our flight from Sydney.  It may seem rather extravagant for a flight of just over 2 hours, but this was a birthday celebration we weren’t going to forget.

Hamilton Island is located in the Great Barrier Reef, Queensland, just off the coast of Airlie Beach.  Only a short hop by flight from Sydney, planes arrive at the small airport, the only commercial airport in the Whitsunday Islands.  So small is the Island, that from landing, to being at your hotel is only a matter of minutes.

The whole island is owned by Bob Oatley and his family.  More famous for making wine, the Oatley’s own and run the vast majority of the accommodation on the island, which is used almost exclusively for tourism.  That said, it is becoming an increasingly attractive place for people to retire to, and I did browse the real estate windows, considering never returning to the big city.  Anybody got a spare couple of million dollars?

As the island is on the Great Barrier reef, the snorkelling is great, even just walking in from the beach, which is what we did.  Imagine our surprise when we suddenly came across a gargantuan sea turtle, swimming along, in the shallow depths.  The coral here is not as vivid as what can be seen much further out, but for an afternoon, just splashing around, we saw enough to keep us transfixed.

And it is not just in the water that you get close up and personal with the wildlife.  Early morning, and as dusk settles in, the wallabies come out to play.  Grazing in, and around the hotel grounds, it is obvious the wallabies couldn’t care less about you, and just want to get on living their lives alongside their fellow islanders.

Should you want to get a little more active during your stay, try out one of the many bush trails.  Of the whole island, only 25% is developed, leaving many, many kilometers of walking tracks, where you can find some amazing hidden bays.  If you want to spoil a good walk, you could take your clubs across the water, to Dent Island, and try your luck on the 18 hole Championship golf course.

Regular visitors. Just keep your food hidden.

Island life

The sunsets on Hamilton are wondrous, and there is only one place to be come sunset.  One Tree Hill is on everybody’s “must do” list whilst on the island.  And when we arrived, it looked as though the rest of the island were already there.  Up here, earlier in the day, it was very quiet, with nary a golf buggy in sight.  But coming back for sun down, chauffeur driven from the hotel no less, the road up was lined, literally lined with buggy after buggy.  Thankfully, we had packed a couple of cold beers, so we fit in perfectly with the live music, and party vibe as we bid farewell to the day, and gently eased into the evening.

View from One Tree Hill

As no private vehicles are allowed on the island, the ubiquitous electric golf buggy is the only way to get around.  The island is small, and walk-able, but in the Queensland heat, you soon want to take it a little easier.  Hired by the hour, or the day, buggies are a constant sight around the island, never really going fast enough to make you feel you had to be constantly alert when wandering around.  This was the first time I had driven one, and it took me a while to get used to how slow you go.  A little like driving a dodgem at the fairground.  Turn the key, press the “F” button, and press hard on the accelerator.  How to reverse?  Just as simple.  Press the “R” button instead.

The Beach Club hotel could not be in a better location.  Right on the beach, funnily enough.  With an infinity pool framed by large palm trees.  Fancy a change?  Then there are loungers on the private beach, with staff from the hotel only too happy to bring you a cold beer when things get too hot.  

But all that being said, the key selling point for me, the thing that made me part with my hard-earned cash, was the fact that the Beach Club is an adults only hotel.  And it is only when you leave the hotel, and see just how many families with children there are on the island, you really appreciate the peace, and serenity of the Beach Club.  Worth every single dollar.

Sustainability is a big thing on Hamilton Island, and this comes through in the little things.  Each guest at the Beach Club is provided with a refillable bottle, that can be refilled constantly at the hotel’s filtered water station.  Still and sparkling.  And any straw that is used is paper.  Why do you even need straws you may ask?  For the fancy cocktails, obviously.  Although, I did have problems finishing my pina colada as my paper straw disintegrated.

Food is a highlight of any trip, and this was no exception.  Dinner was had twice at the hotel restaurant, and was excellent on both occasions.  Served where we had our daily breakfasts, fringing the beach, it really was food with a view.

Deciding what to have for breakfast

On our first evening we had the degustation menu, trying such delights as house cured salmon, Malaysian style coconut cream curry, and house made limoncello as a palate cleanser (which was delicious).  For our final night on the island we went a la carte, and I had one of the best dishes I have ever had. Ever.  Anywhere.  It was the tagliolini, with barramundi, mussels, and lots more.  Oh my.  Words fail me.

Seafood tagliolini

Would I go back to Hamilton Island?  In a heartbeat.  Would I stay at the Beach Club again?  I wouldn’t even think of staying anywhere else.  Right now I am looking at a fairly packed 2019 calendar, trying to work out where I could squeeze in a return visit.

 

Long Weekend in The Hunter Valley – October 2018

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As I was sitting on the large wooden deck, sipping the strong coffee that I hoped would slowly start breathing life into my tired body, I came face to face with them.   Skipping through the paddock, down through the eucalyptus trees that fringed the creek, and abruptly stopping on spotting me.  Ears twitching. Alert at all times.  And fast.   Very fast.

Kangaroos in the wild
The locals are friendly

Don’t mess with him!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Indigenous to Australia, estimates put the number of kangaroos here at 34 million.  This morning’s visitors were a doe, and her joey, of the Eastern Grey variety.  It is one of the highlights of our trips to the country, be it the Hunter Valley, or inland to Mudgee, that we get to see so much wildlife, including the roos, in their natural environment.

This trip was to the Hunter, and was our first there this year, in what has become an annual pilgrimage.  As well as the wildlife, the wide open spaces, the lack of traffic, and the solitude, there is also the little matter of some of the world’s best wines to sample.  And inevitably buy.  Although, due to the number of bottles of wine stockpiling at home, we had told ourselves we would be very restrained on this trip.

Suitably fuelled up, both the hire car, and ourselves, and after a great breakfast at Cafe Mosman, we hit the road around 10.30am.   Being a public holiday weekend, what we would call a Bank Holiday in the UK, we knew the traffic leaving the city would be bad.  We didn’t expect it to be quite so bad.  Coming up through the suburbs of St Leonards, Wahroonga, and everywhere in between, it took us 1 hour before we even hit the motorway.  At least from here it was plain sailing.

Pulling off at Calga, and bypassing the Australian Wildlife Centre for once, we took the tourist route, up through the valley, and towards the charming little town of Wollombi.  A place that I would definitely recommend for a coffee, sandwich, and a browse of the little arts and crafts shops.  But today, we were just passing through.  We had other things on our minds, and soon we were sat in the courtyard of the delightful Krinklewood winery, nibbling locally made cheeses, and working our way down the wine tasting menu.

It had taken us two and half hours, door to cellar door.  I had expected the journey to be slightly quicker, but then I never expect the sheer volume of traffic that we encounter.  But now, I had exhaled, took some deep breaths of the fresh country air, and was in chill mode.  A mode I would not be exiting until around lunchtime on Monday.

What does take me slightly longer is regaining my sense of perspective.  You see, on arrival at Krinklewood, I shuddered at how busy it was.  Good lord, there were maybe 4, or 5 small tables occupied.  Yes, only a handful of people in reality. That said, I was much happier after approximately 20 minutes, when we had the whole courtyard to ourselves.

Remember the promise we made ourselves about showing restraint with wine purchases?  Cue us walking out the cellar door with the first 6 bottles. Krinklewood is one of our favourite vineyards, and knowing they rarely sell to bottle shops in Australia, we knew we had to take our opportunity to stock up the wine cellar.  At least that was our excuse.

Greenway Wines

On the recommendation of Ruth in the cellar door, we then drove next door (which in the Hunter is quite a drive), and visited Ann of Greenway Wines.  A vineyard we hadn’t visited before.  How exciting.  A new addition to the “wine tasting our way around the world” spreadsheet.  Greenway is what you would call a boutique winery.  Very small.  But as with a lot of the boutique wineries we search out, it was quiet.  In fact, we were the only ones at the cellar door, so we got a very good tasting, of some very good wines.  The Pinot Gris was excellent but the stand out for me was “The Architect” shiraz.  And yes, we walked away with more bottles of wine.

Experience told me that mobile phone reception is patchy in the Hunter.  Some places non-existent. The same with wi-fi in a lot of the accommodation.  This is one of the things that appeals about our trips up here.  But, we do have to find our accommodation.  Easier said than done with no phone reception.  Google is our friend here, with the offline map download option.  Driving back from Broke, along Hermitage Road, and into Belford, along several country roads, some just dirt tracks, had us feeling we were completely lost.  Without the offline map on my phone we would never have found our accommodation.

Block Eight villa
Our accommodation for the weekend

Block Eight vineyard has one large house for rent, and 3 self-contained villas. We were in one of the villas.  Very spacious.  Wooden floors throughout.  A double set of twin doors, opening out onto the balcony, with views down to the water.  Taking pride of place, in the centre of the room, staunchly sat between the two sets of doors, was a squat, black wood burner.  Not that we will be need it, based on the temperature, but I know that I won’t be able to resist throwing a few logs on tonight.

Dropping off our bags, we went for a walk around the very large grounds of Block Eight, saying hello to the resident pig, goats, chickens and peacocks, whilst each of us (Vik and I, not the animals) were secretly deliberating if it was too soon to start on the new purchases,  (spoiler alert: the answer is always NO, in the Hunter), and which of them would be first.

Getting around the Hunter is easy when you are driving.  Not quite as easy when you have been drinking, and want to drink more.  One bottle in, and knowing we had a dinner reservation, we pre-booked a taxi.  Later that evening, walking to the entrance of Block Eight in pitch darkness, the stars were amazing.  Breathtaking.  The lack of light pollution once you leave the city allows you to appreciate the world above us.  The fun of determining what is a satellite, against a shooting star.  We were brought back to earth with headlights, the only headlights, in the distance, signalling to us that our taxi was approaching.

Botanica Restaurant is in the grounds of Spicers Retreat, and only about 15 minutes drive from our villa.  The food was good, but I somehow felt it was lacking the wow factor.  Maybe because I had decided to have a meat free night, something that I very rarely do.  The spanner crab and bisque starter were very good, as was the fish I had for main course.  But, it just didn’t hit the spot in the same way that the pork knuckle did that I had recently at Riley Street Garage in Sydney.

Morning coffee

Sunday morning dawned with my meeting the kangaroos.  The early mornings are one of my ultimate highlights of our weekends in the country.  Taking my coffee outside onto the deck. Watching the mist slowly rise over the water. Ducks splashing about.  Kangaroos coming down for a drink.  The unmistakable smell of the eucalypt trees.  Life slows right down in these moments.  Moments to cherish, and be thankful for.

One of the perks of staying in the country is often a breakfast hamper that you get.  The eggs literally could not be fresher, as free range as they come, from the chucks here on the property.  Bacon, fresh sourdough bread, and some black pudding I had brought up specially from our local butcher, and I was set up for the day.

When I tell you about lunch, you may feel that all I do on these weekends is eat and drink.  You would be right.  100%.  Lunch was at the Verandah Restaurant, on the Calais Estate vineyard.  Tapas style.  And very good.  Complemented with a glass of their very own semillon.  The Hunter is renowned for excellent semillons.  And excellent I am sure they are.  However, over the years I have realised I only really enjoy very young semillons.  Anything that has been in the bottle over 2 years just develops into a “classic” semillon.  Deep golden, nutty, with notes of honey.  It sounds delicious.  But the distinctive taste is not to my liking, in the same way that the disappointing, highly oaked chardonnays that used to dominate the supermarket shelves years ago.

Across the road was Gemelli Estate, a vineyard we last visited a few years ago. A brief tasting, and one bottle of wine purchased, we headed back towards the villa, stopping off at a place that had caught my eye earlier in the day.  

Black Creek Farm has a fabulous cellar door, with a deck that sits out over the vineyard.  Ably guarded from birds by Wilson the collie dog, Black Creek is run by husband and wife team, Jean and Nadine.  Originally from France, but living the last 20 years in Australia, the couple decided to make the big change in the pace of their life by moving up to the Hunter once their children had grown up.  They were now doing an excellent job running Black Creek, producing some very quaffable wines under the “Thélème” banner.  I even got the whole back story to the name.  Clearly very passionate about the wines they produce, we had an excellent, very informative tasting.  Jean took us through the wine list, tasting wines side by side to better compare, whilst Nadine supplied us with cheese and crackers to help the palate.  Yes, we walked away with yet more bottles of wine.

Monday morning brought October with it.  The second month of spring.  Slowly waking, and turning over, I tentatively gave the head a little shake to see if I was suffering from the excesses of yesterday.   I should have been.  We drank a lot of wine.  What with the tastings.  And the bottle of champagne we brought with us to celebrate being away, which we drank watching the sunset. And then the local wines we subsequently drank.  I should have been, and expected to be, very dusty.  I usually am on weekends in the Hunter.  However, I felt great.  So much that I jumped up, made a coffee, and lit up the BBQ to cook breakfast.

We reluctantly packed up, and checked out, and made our way to the vineyard with quite possibly the best views in the Hunter.  Audrey Wilkinson produce some very good wines, but so early in the day we were only here for the views, and a little stretch of the legs.  The fresh air did us good.  So much so that after a short drive we were once again crossing the Hunter, on our way to taste wine.  This time at Iron Gate estate.  Our first visit.  A new one for the spreadsheet.  As with the boutique wineries, a quiet cellar door always allows for a more personal service.  Once again we were given the opportunity to taste the same wines, of different vintages, side by side.  Need I tell you that we left with more bottles in the boot?

I am always left with a feeling of sadness leaving the Hunter.  But at the same time happy, and very grateful that we get the opportunity to spend time in a world-class wine region, almost on our doorstep.  The sadness is the realisation we have to leave the tranquillity behind and return to the madness that is city life in Sydney.  Horrendous traffic, a 3 hour drive, and we were once again back to reality.  Packing our wine away, and checking our calendars for the next free weekend.

Always sad to leave

Some of the perils of living overseas

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As I countdown to my next trip “home”, the first in two years, I have been thinking about some of the perils of living overseas.  Now, when I say perils, fear not.  I am not intimating that living in Sydney puts me at risk of anything more dangerous that a high phone bill, but there are a number of things that you learn to adapt to when living overseas.

Keeping in touch with friends and family ‘back home’

Technology is a wonderful thing. How wonderful, most of the younger generation will not really appreciate. When I first came travelling to Australia, in June of 1994, there was no internet. Well, there was, but it wasn’t widely available, and thus not widely used. No mobile phones. No fancy little laptops and tablets to blog about your trip. Just a smattering of Internet cafes, where you could purchase a block of time, join the queue, then furiously type as fast as you could once seated so you didn’t run out of allotted minutes, mid email.

Picture of an old internet cafe
Ever used one of these?

If traditional pen and paper was more your thing, and it was, and remains mine, we had “poste restante”. Yeah, I had never heard of it either, before that first trip to Australia in 1994. A quaint little idea, that served me perfectly well. And has resulted in me having a comprehensive, written, documentary record of my trip, and a collection of letters that I treasure. Who knows, some of the words you sent me may one day end up in my magnus opus.  My memoir.  But don’t worry, I will change the names to protect the innocent.

“Poste Restante” was (maybe still is?) a service offered by the post offices. You let your friends and family know which town, or city, you were hoping to be in, at a certain time, and they could send a letter addressed to you, care of the said post office. All I had to do was, firstly make sure I was actually in that town, then take my ID and go queue up, with all the other backpackers, and collect my letters. Simple as that.  Left town before you got your letter? Then I am afraid you never got to know what important musings you were destined to read. When you think of it, this could actually change the direction of peoples lives.  Peril alert. You could have left a loved one, on the other side of the world wondering why you never returned their proclamations of love.  We will never know.

Telephoning home was possible, but not from one of those nifty little smart phones that we all now have difficulty in lifting our heads up from.  We were some years from that.  The iPhone was still 13 years away.  You had to use a public phone box, (do we still have them?), and usually through the use of a pre-paid telephone card. Due to the time difference between Australia and the UK, this usually meant that calls were made late at night, on a weekend, after one too many schooners. Drunkenly struggling in a payphone cubicle, scratching off the “PIN” code required to enter into the phone, chatting away as fast as you can before your credit ran out. Which wasn’t very long. I later found out that most of these calls I made consisted of me blathering away incoherently, with my parents just happy that I was obviously alive, in good health, and enjoying life.  Hardly in any kind of peril.

Life now for the traveller, or expat, is much easier.  I think we often forget how far we have come in terms of technology, allowing us to bridge the gap across countries, and continents. This is the changing face of travel.  There are a plethora of instant messaging apps. To the point that it is confusing at times working out which ones people have, what devices support which apps, and whether to do just audio, or video too. Skype. Facetime. Google Duo. What’s App video call. And Google Hangouts.  The paradox of choice.

That said, I probably communicated a lot more in the “old days”.  Letters and calls were done weekly. And now, I instant message a lot, but only probably speak to family and friends once every few months. Hardly makes sense does it? But I think that because the world now seems so small, I have less of a divide to cross. Less of a bridge to gap. I feel that everybody is right there, at the touch of a button.

All this is making me think that maybe I should make more of an effort. Write more letters. And definitely make more calls. Hmm, I have a new objective.

Language “difficulties”

Apart from deciphering the local lingo, and trying to understand why everything in Australia is suffixed with an “o” (Dave-o, Serv-o, Amb-o, Fire-o, please don’t ask!), I don’t have many language issues in Sydney.

Granted, the Aussies can not work out where different UK accents originate from, as a result of them not having many regional accents themselves. This always results in being asked, “right mate, I’m good at this usually. Irish or Scottish?“.  Simply that.  When I say English, I get a very disbelieving look. “Nah mate, you can’t be.  You don’t sound very English.  Not like the lads from Earl’s Court, or Fulham, where I lived for a while.” When I ask how many Irish and Scottish people they have met, I get a blank look.

Cue, me eye rolling.  Again.  Almost without exception, the question about the accent is the first thing I am asked when meeting people. Apart from the local waiter at The Bather’s Pavilion, who complimented us on our very good English, after previously observing us over lunch chatting away in French to each other.  What?  French?  Mon dieu. Two Yorkshire folk, happily chatting away, in English.

“England”, I say, which results in further blank looks.

“You don’t sound English”.  Here we go again, I thought.

“Don’t I? That is odd. I lived there for first 40 years of my life, so I kind of assumed I did”.

“No. Not English, English. You know. Like other English people.”

Yes, it gets weary. Having to explain to almost everyone you meet, that I am indeed English.

Sport (well, football), (REAL football)

In many respects, Australia is much like its colder cousin.  But, the longer you live here you start to feel some of the very marked differences in culture.  A big one that continues to impact my life is football. And this brings one of the biggest cultural differences. Football was a part of my life in the UK. Not just something I chose to do. But was intrinsically woven through the fabric of my life. From playing in the school football team, and captaining it, through to playing regularly at weekends as an adult. Both full 11 aside, and lots of weekly 5 aside games. It was an ever present.

I had hoped it would be even more. As a school child I had been put forward for trials at county level, for Yorkshire. And in the trials, I was played out of what I thought were my best positions, and I didn’t make the cut. This was hard for a 10 year old. Even more so when I saw local lads from that same weekend going on to become professional footballers, even enjoying stints in the Premier League. Oh what might have been.

And then there was following my own club. Every lover of football has their own team. Something that never changes. Through good times, and bad. And I was lucky enough to have a season ticket for my team, Manchester United. Going to my first game at the age of 7, and then continuing the tradition as I grew older, to the point when I could afford a car, and a season ticket.

Football in England is ingrained in the national culture. In much the same was it is in European, and South American countries. It is a religion. And the stadia are the churches. Here in Australia, I have to adapt to the fact that football is a minority sport. It plays second fiddle to the various codes of rugby, and even bloody cricket.  Does a more boring game exist?

I do miss the banter that comes from having a beer with mates, all supporting different teams. It can get quite serious, but then, it is football. Here, I can go through a cup final, a local derby, or even, the height of rivalry, a game against Liverpool, and yet it wouldn’t even make a blip on the radars of my colleagues. Well, there are a few from the UK, and even Europe, who do understand, but to everybody else, football might as well not exist.

The tyranny of distance

Yes, I could live somewhere a lot closer than a 24 hour flight away.  Or 17 hours should I move to Perth.  But where would the fun in that be?  I get amused that some family members still struggle with the time difference, some 7 years after I got here.  The other day I awoke to a message that asked, “how happy are you now that it is Friday?“.  OK, I was tired.  I hadn’t got through my first coffee of the day yet.  I was still rubbing sleep from my eyes.  But, I was sure that after Wednesday, comes Thursday.  Unless I had slept for over 24 hours, which would be welcome, but a first, it was not Friday until tomorrow.

One benefit of being this side of the world though is the opportunity to spend time in places like Ubud in Bali, which is only a 6 hour flight away.  Half that if I move to Perth.  And Thailand becomes a regular destination, which for those of you that have been there, is the definition of paradise.  Fancy a wine tasting trip to New Zealand?  Maybe a long weekend in Queenstown?  Only a 3 hour flight away.  And it has to be said, I do love to travel.

From peril, to positive

For every negative, there is a positive. And with Australia, these positives are massive, and many.  Enough to keep me here for what is my 7th year.  I often get asked why I moved here, alone. Making what most people see as a big step. Firstly, I didn’t, and don’t see it as big. For me, it was just choosing to live somewhere else for a bit. See how it was. Have a little adventure.  Write a new chapter. But also, one of the biggest reasons, was to enjoy a warmer climate. I am not a fan of the harsh European winters. In fact, I am forgetting how harsh they can be, not having endured one for over 6 years now.  We are currently one week away from winter, and even at 18 degrees, I am wondering whether I need a light jacket as I walk about the village.

With the weather brings an outdoor lifestyle that is hard not to enjoy. I love cafes, and cafe culture, and most of all, I love coffee. And the coffee here in Australia is amongst the best in the world. Weekends are all about finding your favourite spot, and settling in for an amazing brunch, with sublime coffee. Take a book, do some writing, or just watch the world go by, but this is something I just couldn’t do regularly enough in the UK. The weather is often too cold and unpredictable.

Perils of living overseas. To the positives.
One of life’s pleasures.

The weather also determines your wardrobe for most of the year. And outside of July, which is the coldest winter month, flip flops are de-rigeur. I like that, in Australia, there are no airs and graces when it comes to dress code for all but the most formal occasions. How I hate the stuffiness of formal events. Having to dress a certain way just to go for dinner. Well here in Australia, oftentimes you just wear what you are comfortable in. Shorts at dinner?  No problem.  Want to head out in your Stan Smiths?  Go ahead. That said, I still find it odd that will see many people in the streets with no shoes on. And not just in the beach suburbs like Manly, or Bondi Beach, but also around your local village. Don’t their feet get dirty? Are they not worried about walking in dog poo? (there is enough of it).  That is one peril I want to avoid.

For those of you that live overseas, or have in the past, what were your perils?  How did you keep in touch with friends and family? What did you miss the most?  Let me know in the comments.

The Melbourne Open and the Yarra Valley

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Having been two years since our last visit to Melbourne, we thought it long overdue that we visit again.  And what better time to go, apart perhaps than for the Formula 1 grand prix in March, but at the end of January for the Australian Open, which is exactly what we did last time.  It has to be said our previous semi final lasted longer than this one proved to be, but more on that later.

Leaving a day later than our previous visit, this time flying on Australia Day (January 26th), coinciding with my first anniversary of being an Australian citizen, we set our alarms and made sure there were no hiccups as we negotiated first the big yellow bus, then train, to Sydney Domestic airport for our 7.55am flight.  Flying with JetStar, the antipodean equivalent of Ryanair, you are never quite sure what to expect.  On this occasion our short flight, under 2 hours, was on time and very painless.  However, unlike last time when we flew into Tullamarine, today’s flight on the big orange airline had us landing at Avalon, some 60kms from Melbourne CBD.

From the big orange plane, onto the big red Skybus (I’m sensing a colour theme), and for $42 each for a round trip, we were transported the 45 minutes in to town.  Transferring to a cab by Southern Cross Station, I was glad the ride was short, as we had Walter Mitty driving us.  Not only did he provide free advice on how much I had been ripped off by the Skybus, but also regaled us with tales of him being very senior in the Israeli military, how he was the most senior person, and therefore in charge, of the planes he flies on, and also that he was a life saving paramedic.  I tried telling him I was an agent of Mossad, but this cut no ice with Walter.

View from the apartment

Our accommodation, in South Melbourne, was a fantastic apartment booked via Airbnb.  Twelve floors up, a few wines were drunk on the balcony that had sweeping city views.  The Eureka building dominates the city skyline in the CBD, and across to the right, the magnificent Melbourne Cricket Ground dominates.  If I had to gripe about one thing, it would be advertising a coffee “pod” machine, as a prominent selling point on your Airbnb listing, then only providing 2 pods. 2 pods! For 4 people, for 2 nights.  Are we on rations?  If any landlord, in any city knew how important coffee is, surely a landlord from Melbourne would know more than most.

We were lucky that the weather improved from the cold, grey skies that greeted us on arrival. In fact, there was a bit of a heatwave whilst we were there, and judging by colour of some people’s skin, present company included, more sunscreen would have been a good idea.


Unlike Sydney, Melbourne really knows how to put on a sporting event.  The Open is so well organised, you could easily spend a full day just soaking up the atmosphere, and enjoying the entertainment outside the actual stadiums. With hindsight, maybe we should have done that.  From the off it was obvious that it was going to be a routine win for Federer.  From entering the big blue, very blue, court, there is that colour theme again, the speed with which he dispatched the first set was pure Roger.  What we, or the rest of the Rod Laver arena, didn’t expect was the match to be over before all the sets were played. When Chung pulled up, and retired, there were audible gasps all around the stadium.  Gasps were replaced by expletives by one of our party. Understandably upset, the booing wasn’t appreciated by the lady in the row in front.  Oops.

We resolved to make up for the disappointment by getting suitably inebriated on the wine tour of the Yarra Valley the day after.  If you fancy doing something similar I would highly recommend Chill Out Wine Tours.  Starting the day with a typical Melbourne breakfast, well, one of us did, at Bowery to Williamsburg, we then met the bus at 9.25am, by the side of St Paul’s cathedral, opposite Federation Square in the city.  A quick roll call and we were soon on our way for the short 1 hour trip to the valley.  As always with these trips, the driver does a great job in getting everybody talking.  At the start of a wine tasting day, most people are very quiet.  They either haven’t woken up yet, the caffeine hasn’t kicked in, or are displaying natural shy tendencies. I fall firmly into the second camp.  Or maybe the third!  No such issue on the way home, when everybody was best friends forever, and were getting invited to a pool party!  Yes, you had a very “interesting” job, of designing door handles.  In fact, you were probably the first designer of door handles that I had met.  But do I want to sit in your hot tub with you, in your bathers?  That’s another question.

Our first stop on the trip was at Domaine Chandon, which turns out to be a sister vineyard of Moët (yes, it is pronounced with a hard t, with name being of Dutch origin, and not French), one of several around the world.  Part of the global holding company LVMH (Louis Vuitton Moët Hennessy).  The famous Moët is not made here.  As you know champagne can only be produced in the Champagne region of France.  What they do produce at Domaine Chandon is some very good sparkling wines.  The vineyard, as you would expect, is somewhat of a commercial behemoth, so it was refreshing to move onto Soumah wines.

Named as a derivative of South of the Maroondah highway, this is a boutique winery, one of those that seem to produce a full range of excellent wines.  The question that always makes me smile when wine tasting is “so, what wines do you like?”  My answer is the same every time.  All of them.  Which is 97% true. Soumah was one of those special wineries where I enjoyed every wine on the testing menu.  White, red, and dessert wines.  All excellent.  It is these type of tastings that I blame for me having more wine at home than I have books. Yeah, I know, hard to believe right?

After an excellent lunch at Soumah, a pasta dish that is possibly in my top 5 ever, and I’ve spent a lot of time in Italy, we moved on to Di Bertoli for another great tasting.  The day was finished at Yering Farm, probably my least favorite wines of the day.  It is not often I meet a wine list that I wouldn’t buy from.  I did that day.  A very pleasant tasting, with a very knowledgeable lovely old mature lady, but the wines did not match my palate.  As rare as that it, it happens.

Skipping the pool party, we had our final night in Melbourne, starting with drinks at Pony Fish Island.  A great little bar, in the Yarra River, that was first discovered by us on Instagram.  Don’t all the best bar / brunch / dinner recommendations come from your Insta feed?  Drinking as the sun set, we weren’t in the mood to explore much further afield, so we had a very good dinner at Teatro, on the river, eating, drinking, and chatting about the great weekend we had.

We were a little blue, to be leaving on the red bus, to catch the orange airplane. A red wine on the plane, and a commitment to return capped off a great weekend.