Every Day is Sunday

There is nothing like road-tripping in New Zealand.  The highways are surrounded by stunning landscape, and every few miles you come across something that makes you want to pull over and take a picture.

We had planned to take the bus from Queenstown up to the Franz Josef Glacier, but we got distracted by our mission to jump out of a plane.  Missing the bus was the second best thing that happened to us that day (the parachute opening took first prize).  We traded our bus ticket for a rental car and set out on another ROAD TRIP! 

Our first stop on Highway 6 was the volcanic black rock beach.  We walked along the water’s edge and admired the impressive rock piles that were balanced enough to withstand the substantial wind coming off the water.

Our next stop was a picturesque waterfall – one of about 3 million photo-worthy waterfalls in this part of the world.

After about 6 hours we finally made it to glacier country.  We pulled off to catch a glimpse of the Fox Glacier.  Sir William Fox was New Zealand’s prime minister when he named the river of ice after himself in 1872.

We arrived at the Franz Josef Village just before nightfall.  Located in the middle of nowhere, the sole purpose of the village is to be a jumping-off point for seeing one of the most spectacular and accessible glaciers in the world: the Franz Josef.

We awoke at dawn, grabbed boots, snow pants, and crampons, and made our way out to the foot of the glacier.  We met up with our guide for the day – Bob Frost – a Kiwi from Wellington who prefers the road less traveled. 

Frosty led us on a seven-hour odyssey over the rough edges of the glacier.  We descended into valleys, climbed the peaks, and spent a lot of time looking for the spectacular ice caves created every day by this moving river of ice.

The Maori knew the Franz Josef glacier as Ka Roimata o Hine Hukatere – Tears of the Avalanche Girl.  According to legend, a Maori girl was walking the cliffs with her lover when he lost his balance and fell off one of the peaks to his death.  Her flood of tears froze into the glacier we see today. 

After an amazing day on the ice, we hit the thermal pools to thaw out a bit before venturing out for our final dinner with Sam.  Sam’s adventurous spirit and boundless energy made these last few weeks in Australia and New Zealand very special for us. 

Three years ago we traveled to Fiji, New Zealand and Australia on our honeymoon.  At the time, we thought that the main attractions in that region were Fiji and Australia, and so we spent just five days in Queenstown, New Zealand.  We seriously underestimated New Zealand.  Five days was not nearly enough time to experience the magic of one of the most beautiful places in the world.

When we were choosing the route for this trip, we avoided any city we had already traveled to as a couple.  The picturesque lakeside city of Queenstown, New Zealand, was the sole exception to this rule.

We arrived in Queenstown just in time to celebrate Erin’s birthday. 

Jeff:  I had been wracking my brain trying to think of a good gift for Erin’s birthday.  She had set the bar pretty high when she bought me a sheep for my birthday in Ethiopia, so I had to come up with something good.  Surrounded by the Remarkable Mountain Range, Queenstown is one of the most spectacular jump sites in the world. What better way to celebrate her birthday than to jump out of an airplane at 12,000 feet?

Erin:  Some ladies might question whether it’s a good thing when your husband says he wants to push you out of an airplane on your birthday.  But after eating 1,000 consecutive meals with this man, I was quite sure that his heart was in the right place.

After several delays because of wind, we finally boarded the van and made our way out to the airstrip.  We should have been nervous about the jump, but we hardly had any time to worry about it.  Jeff was distracted because he had left his wallet in the van and was worried about the safe return of his cash and cards (he got everything back).  Erin was distracted because she was turning 32.  Sam was distracted by how good he looked in his flight suit.

As soon as we arrived at the hangar our instructors were helping us into our flight suits, checking our gear, and pushing us toward the plane.

The three of us boarded the tiny propeller plane and climbed quickly to 12,000 feet.  With a professional skydiver strapped to our backs, we crawled our way to the open door of the airplane.  We each dangled our legs over the side, rocked slightly, and then tumbled into thin air. 

The first thing we did was let out a big scream.  For the next 45 seconds we took in the awesome scenery while falling at a rate of 140 mph.  The laws of physics seemed inverted as we watched Lake Wakatipu and the Remarkable Mountain Range rush up toward us.  Then the parachute opened and we spent about 7 minutes slowly flying down to earth. 

It was awesome!

Ever since A.J. Hackett opened the world’s first commercial bungee jump in Queenstown, the town has been known as the adrenaline capital of the world.  We took a cable car 1200 feet up the mountain to jump off “The Ledge,” a 150 foot free-fall bungee jump with spectacular views of Queenstown.

Sam made friends with the girls running the skydive and bungee, and he was able to negotiate the “local deal” on bungee jumping: unlimited jumps for the price of one.

Erin:  For those of you who don’t know Sam, he is one big bundle of energy.  He’s the kind of guy who can run/bike/swim a triathlon during the day and then go out for a night on the town.  When he found out about the unlimited bungee, his eyes got very wide.  I knew he was going to get his money’s worth.

Jeff:  Sam was the first one to go off the bungee.  I’ve never seen him more scared in his life.  He was wringing his hands, his face lost all of its color, and his mouth was dry.  But he overcame his fear, let out a conquering scream, and threw himself off the ledge.

Erin:  Sam fell hard for the bungee.  I watched as he did front flips, back flips, and then the ultimate “Matrixjump” with guns blazing.  Eventually I lost track.  Sam jumped off the ledge EIGHT times before he was done.  The man literally bungeed to exhaustion.

Jeff:  Bungee jumping is actually more scary than skydiving.  For our skydive we had a professional skydiver strapped to our backs  so we didn’t have to throw ourselves out of the plane — we paid someone to do it for us.  On the bungee ledge you stand alone paralyzed by fear.  You look down and your brain screams: “Are you insane?!?!  DON’T DO IT!”  You have to overcome that intense fear and throw yourself off the ledge.  After four jumps my body didn’t have any adrenaline left.  I was exhausted just watching Sam jump four more times.

When Jeff told his college buddy Blake Nixon that we were in New Zealand, Blake put us in touch with his father who has an apartment in Queenstown.  The smartest thing we did when we arrived in Queenstown was to meet up with David and Dada Nixon.

Less than 24 hours after we contacted them, we were climbing into the back of their car and heading out to the Central Otogo Valley for a day of wine tasting.  Although they had never met Sam or Erin (and met Jeff only once eight years earlier), they welcomed us as friends immediately.  We got into the car and Dada turned around to look at us from the passenger seat.  “Jeff, Erin, and Sam,” she said to confirm our names, “Okay, let’s party.”

And we partied.  We hit several wineries that day and tasted some of the best Pinot Noirs in the world. 

After a full day of wine tasting, the Nixons invited us back to their house for more drinks and some food.  It is not an exaggeration to say that the Nixons have the nicest view in all of Queenstown. 

We drank wine, watched the sun go down, and had our own dance party on the balcony.

The Nixons were incredible hosts.  We took a tour of David’s private wine cellar and then spent the evening sampling bottle after bottle from the best wineries in New Zealand.  The sun finally set on this wonderful day, and we decided to take our leave before Jeff did any real damage to the apartment.

On our last night in Queenstown we went out to experience the local nightlife.  It was Saturday night and Winnie’s was throwing their annual Pimps and Pornstars Party.  We picked up costumes at the dollar store and went out to paint the town bright pink.

The DJ was spinning some killer tunes, Sam was dancing up a storm, and the beer was flowing like water. It was a great night, and of course the Wertkinborns won a bar competition and we went home $50 richer than when we arrived!

We were sore from our 9 hour hike through the Alpine Crossing but had no intention of slowing down.  There were more adventures to be had and we were eager to get on the road.  Unfortunately, the next bus to Lake Taupo wasn’t leaving until the afternoon, so we decided to try a mode of transportation common in New Zealand: hitch-hiking.

We had too much stuff to fit into one car, so Sam took the first ride and we took the second with a really nice couple and their two dogs. Sam’s ride tried to convince him to stay in his basement on a ratty futon, with a new puppy and his two kids for $50 bucks. Sam thanked him for the ride but passed on the accommodation.

It was a perfect day in Lake Taupo.  The sun was shining and the deep blue lake was perfectly calm.  We took a short hike and spent the afternoon lounging in the grass. 

It was such a beautiful day we made reservations to go kayaking the next morning.  We signed up for a “Kayak to the Carvings trip” to see the Maori rock carvings at Mine Bay.   

The Maori are the indigenous Polynesian people of New Zealand.  In the late 1970s master carver Matahi Whakataka-Brightwell took a boat trip around Lake Taupo and saw the cliffs at Mine Bay.  Where other people just saw rocks, Matahi saw a canvas.

He decided to carve a likeness of Ngatoroirangi, a visionary Maori navigator who guided the Tuwharetoa and Te Arawa tribes to the Taupo area over a thousand years ago. In recognition of the multi-cultural nature of New Zealand, Matahi also carved two smaller figures of Celtic design, which depict the south wind and a mermaid. The Ngatoroirangi carving took four summers to complete and the carvers took no payment other than donations to cover the cost of the scaffolding.

The brochure made the kayaking trip look amazing – smiling tourists basking in the New Zealand afternoon sun and admiring the beautiful carvings.  We were looking forward to a leisurely trip on the water to take in some local culture.  It was quite a shock when we got into the freezing cold water on an overcast morning and started paddling against 4-foot swells.

We made it to the carvings without capsizing . . . but just barely.  The lousy tour company (Kayaking Kiwi) didn’t give us protective rain gear, so we sat shivering in front of the carvings for about 30 seconds before turning around and paddling back as fast as humanly possible. 

A few hours later – when our body temperatures started approaching normal – we rented a car for the day and headed up to Rotorua. 

Rotorua is New Zealand’s most dynamic thermal area with spurting geysers, steaming hot springs and exploding mud pools.  We went to one of the most revered Maori sites: Wai-O-Tapu (Sacred Waters). 

Formed by thousands of years of volcanic activity, Wai-O-Tapu is considered to be New Zealand’s most colorful and diverse geothermal sightseeing attraction. 

We saw huge volcanic craters, brightly colored green and red pools, and New Zealand’s largest bubbling mud pool.  The crazy colors were naturally created from oxidized sulfur, magnesium and other elements we probably couldn’t find on the periodic table.  It was other-worldly.

There’s a significant Maori population that still lives in Rotorua, and although some might find it commercialized, there are many opportunities to learn about the indigenous culture.  We made our way to the Mitai Maori village for an evening of hangi, haka and poi.

The Mitai welcomed us (and about 100 other tourists) into their village and we sat down to an authentic hangi meal – lamb, chicken, potatoes, and stuffing – all cooked together in an earth oven known as a hangi pit.

Shortly after the meal our Maori host asked our large group to nominate a chief.  With just a little prodding, Sam stepped up and humbly accepted this most honorable role.

Sam spent most of the time onstage during the performance while the Maori explained their ancient culture through song, dance, and poi.  Sam even gave a speech thanking the chief for inviting us into his village and conveying how honored we were that they would share their culture with us.  In the parking lot after the performance, our host told Sam it was the best speech he’s heard in the seven years they’ve been doing the show.

Sam’s speech was good but the highlight of the evening was the Haka, the traditional dance form of the Maori.  Made famous by New Zealand’s world-renowned Rugby club the “All Blacks,” Haka is a posture danced performed by a group with vigorous movements, tongue-wagging, foot stomping, and rhythmically shouted accompaniment. 

A couple of weeks prior to my trip out to visit Erin and Jeff in the South Pacific, I received the proposed itinerary for our time in New Zealand in an email entitled “Fire and Ice.”  With my curiosity piqued, I opened the message and my eyes lit up as I read one of the first planned activities, the Tongariro Alpine Crossing; a trek across New Zealand’s most famous volcanic valley.

Having traveled on my own and with the Wertkinborns for almost two weeks, I had already been scuba diving off of islands in the Great Barrier Reef, been mesmerized by Sydney’s ever-changing landscape and cityscape, and had driven the breathtaking coastline of the Great Ocean Road with Erin and Jeff….but nothing could have prepared me for our trek across the Tongariro Alpine Crossing.

Alarms set for4:45am (an hour I seldom meet coming from this side) we boarded the bus out to the base of the mountain at 5:30 in the morning. We were soon to find out why every guidebook agreed that this is the country’s best day hike, and why National Geographic magazine rates it one of the best day hikes in the world.

The journey started as we entered a volcanic valley enclosed on three sides with the sun just peaking over the top of the summits of Mt Ruapehu, Mt Ngauruhoe, and Mt Tongariro.  We were still half-asleep when we set out, but luckily the trail started out gradually through a barren valley of windswept brush and light vegetation. 

However manageable this beginning portion of the trail may have been, my mind was already far ahead of my feet. Allowing the group to travel far enough ahead, the raw and untouched terrain of giant craters, red lava sediment, set against the backdrop of snow-capped tops of soaring granite mountains lent itself perfectly for my escape to a boyish wonderland where pre-historic beasts lay behind every crater. 

My walking stick had been transformed into a sword, and my backpack, a shield. I immediately understood why Peter Jackson had chosen this very sight for “Mt. Doom” in Mordor, the inhospitable and other-worldly land of his Middle-Earth in the Lord of the Rings films.

In addition to the dangers and challenges of hiking up the precarious mountainside, we had the added hazard of climbing up towards an active volcanic crater. The trio of active craters forms the southern edge of the Pacific Ring of Fire, a string of volcanoes that stretches as far north as Alaska. Although they’re currently dozing, Mount Ruapehu erupted as recently as 1995, blanketing the surrounding slopes with volcanic ash and acidic water and closing the popular ski area for two years. The unpredictability of when the next eruption might come only adds to the allure of the Tongariro Crossing.

As we peered 7,513 feet up at the summit of the Red Crater, its angled peak stained brick red by oxidized iron, its steep and snowy ridges riddled with sharp and crumbly volcanic rock, its perfectly cylindrical volcanic rim gurgling and burping with steam from the vapors below the surface, we came to the decision collectively that there was no other choice than to tackle this mountain. Short of one sign with an arrow pointing towards the “summit”, this path was not only unmarked, but also unrelenting in its effort to keep us from summiting the peak. With each frustrating and unbalanced step up the steep ridge, we slid back two or three.

But perseverance and perspiration won out in the end, as we finally reached the snowy summit of Mt. Ngauruhoe. When I finally turned around, I was overcome by a scene so majestic, so breath-taking, so unlike anything I have ever before experienced that putting it into words will be an exercise in futility, I’m sure. The view was primordial and other-wordly. Let me just say this; standing atop that mountain that had taken us half a day to conquer, with an unblemished view of the snow-capped Mt Ruapehu, the North Island’s highest peak straight ahead of me, the neon green mineral-rich Emerald Lakes within view, and a barren valley below me, I was left wondering what planet I was on.

Descending the mountain was to become an adventure itself. Left with two options; either back-tracking down the same way we came up, or “skiing” down the mountain’s red and gray scree covered backside, the rest of the group sensibly decided to take retrace their steps over the familiar, if not ideal terrain. But being a man who’s never met a loose backside I could turn away from, I couldn’t resist the urge to challenge myself a little further. Jeff must’ve seen the conviction in my eyes as he didn’t argue when I looked at him and said, “I just gotta do this.” Accompanied by Garret, one of two fellow Wisconsinites we had met on our high-adrenaline adventure, I started down. It didn’t take more than two minutes to realize I was probably going to die attempting this.

The slope was too steep, the terrain too slippery, and every once in a while I had to dodge a boulder that had been dislodged from above and was tumbling towards me. That was until I decided to stop fighting the mountain. Leaning back like I was waiting for a chair-lift to scoop me up, I bent my knees and angled forward until the force of gravity pulled me down the mountain. The thrill of slip-sliding through the lava rocks combined with the sensation of weightlessness made it feel like I was water-skiing on the moon.

Like any good trip up, the remainder of the day brought us down gently through the park’s diverse eco-systems. Traveling past waterfalls and yellow sulfur lakes, crossing arid valley and snow covered ridges, and culminating in a long trek through dense rain forest back to our pick-up site, we traversed more different types of terrain in one day than I’ve experienced in all my days leading up to this one.

Truth be told, I didn’t really know what to expect weeks earlier when I received that email. But after this day, one thing rang clear and true. Some people say be wary of those who promise you the moon and stars, lest you be disappointed when they come up short. Today’s take home lesson: When Erin and Jeff promise you Fire and Ice, you better believe they’re gonna deliver just that.

The Great Ocean Road is considered a rite of passage for Aussie travelers.  We rented a car, popped in some tunes, and hit the open road – slightly hungover but ready for adventure.

It only takes 4 hours to drive direct from Melbourne to Port Campbell but it took us a little over 9.  We made several stops along the way to marvel at the vistas unfolding around each twist and turn of the road. 

We hung out for a while at Bells Beach, perhaps the most famous of all surfer destinations in Australia.  Many of the surfing scenes in the surfing classic “Point Break” were filmed there. 

We didn’t have a surf board, but that didn’t stop Sam from riding the waves and freezing his boys off.

After a quick stop for some oysters, we made our way to the Cape Otway Lightstation. One of the oldest in Australia, the lighthouse sits on top of a towering cliff overseeing the mingling of the Bass Strait and the Southern Ocean.  The big, beautiful, manually-operated lighthouse was taken out of commission in 1994, and replaced by a 3ft solar-powered automatic lighthouse. We’re all for modernization, but it’s sad to think that the days of the majestic lighthouse are behind us. 

But the real show was Sam showing off his flexibility to a bunch of old ladies…

On our way to the lighthouse we saw all the beautiful green trees lining the road.  It wasn’t until our return trip out that we realized these trees were full Koala bears.

They were shy and stayed pretty high up in the trees.  Koala bears look cute and cuddly, which is why we were so surprised every time they let out a growling bark like a cantankerous old man waiting for his tapioca.  Their scary outbursts didn’t stop Erin from taking 300 pictures in about 20 minutes.

Every pilgrimage has a culminating point.  Our journey down the Great Ocean Road reached its zenith when we reached the Twelve Apostles.

Rising majestically from the Ocean, these limestone stacks are a truly beautiful sight against the crystal blue water of the Antarctic Ocean.  They were created by constant erosion of the limestone cliffs on the mainland that began 10-20 million years ago.  Rough ocean waves and crushing winds gradually eroded the soft limestone rock, forming caves in the cliffs.  These caves became arches, and then eventually the arches collapsed leaving these 150-foot high rock stacks isolated from the shore.  They were originally named the “Sow and Piglets” until some enterprising young Australian with a missionary zeal wisely renamed them.

Not long after we arrived an electrical storm broke out.  Sam got a fantastic shot of lightening over the apostles – earning him the admiration of the other tourists on the scenic lookout as well as 35 bonus points.  Erin had already earned 10 pts for spotting the first Koala bear, Jeff had five points for coming up with the game.  Sam’s incredible shot basically made him untouchable for the rest of the trip.

After a long day on the road we went out for dinner in Port Campbell and found a pizza place with an eclectic menu.  Sam was so shocked that this pizza joint in the middle of nowhere Australia had “Persian Pizza” on the menu (walnuts, feta, cheese, pears and tomato topped with cumin, coriander, sesame seeds and herbs) that he immediately texted his mom and insisted we order it.

Just before dinner we ran into these two German girls who we had seen throughout the day at all the famous stops along the Great Ocean Road.  They were so much fun we invited them to join us for dinner.  Ilka wanted to know why Americans always say “How are you?” and “See you later!” when they don’t really care how she is doing and will almost certainly not see her later.

After our regular pizza we ordered the specialty dessert: a chocolate pizza.  There were six pieces of chocolate pizza and only five of us, which meant that only one person would get a second slice.  The German girls suggested we play schnick, schnack, schnook for the last piece. 

We put together a double-elimination tournament of schnick, schnack, schnook (aka rock, paper, scissors).  The final round was captured in this dramatic footage:

The next day we did a little more sightseeing – descending the Gibson steps and checking out the London Bridge – but the weather wasn’t ideal.  It only rained when we were in our car traveling form one site to the next, but the wind kept up pretty much the entire time. 

We didn’t mind cutting our sightseeing day short because we needed to get to Port Fairy in time for the big race.

For a week, every Australian asked us if we were excited for the Melbourne Cup, also known as the “Race that Stops a Nation.”  The Melbourne Cup is like the Super Bowl, the Kentucky Derby and the 4th of July all wrapped up into one event.  The government got tired of everybody skipping work on the day of the race, so they made it a national holiday.  For three days leading up to the event every newspaper led with a race story, and every bar offered 2-for-1 race specials.

We made sure that we were in Port Fairy in time to catch the big race and, of course, put a few bets down.

Erin: We didn’t have much time to research the horses and so I asked some local guys for some advice.  They weren’t much help so I had to chose my horses based on their funny names.  I bet on “Crime Scene” and “Shocking” to “place” thinking that I would win as long as these horses came in either first, second or third.  It wasn’t until the race started that I found out that betting that a horse will “place” means that they have to come in second.  I was kicking myself until long-shot Crime Scene made a late push to finish second.  I won $100!!  Champagne for the house!!!

Jeff:  I managed to pick the winning horse, but my paltry $30 winnings were overshadowed by my screaming wife with a $100 in hand.   

Sam:  Whatever, at least you bitches both won something.

We’ve been so lucky to have friends or family join us in South America, Antarctica, Africa, and Asia. We didn’t expect that anybody was going to make the trip to join us for our sixth and final continent. So when Sam emailed and said was coming to meet us in Melbourne we couldn’t have been more excited.

Our best traveling experiences usually occur when we have a local connection. It doesn’t matter if it’s Cape Town, Addis Ababa, or Buenos Aires, we always felt like we got more out of the experience when we had a local showing us the best the city has to offer.

We didn’t have a local connection in Melbourne, but we had the next best thing: a man who has done his research! Sam arrived with guide books, highlighted internet printouts, several pages of handwritten notes, and a strong sense of adventure. We said we’d follow him anywhere.

Even though we’d been wandering the city for four days, we were surprised when Sam arrived and told us that Melbourne is internationally recognized as having some of the best cocktail lounges in the world. In addition to being a general contractor and builder, Sam is also a bartender at Marvin’s and The Gibson, the two hottest bars in Washington DC. He has spent the better part of this year learning the art of craft cocktails, and so he was the perfect guide to lead our tour of Melbourne’s best cocktail lounges.

Our first stop was “1806” named after the year that the word cocktail first appeared in print. Their extensive menu traces cocktails over the last 200 years – you can order a Bittered Sling (the chosen drink of businessmen in 1806) or a 1916 Martini (which can be vodka or gin but always has a lot of vermouth). But the signature drink is the Black Blazer – a mixture of black chocolate and rum which is then ignited and poured from one container to another until completely mixed and piping hot. The bar recently won an award for “best cocktail menu” at an international competition in New Orleans – but they didn’t think they would win and so nobody was there to collect the award!

Our bartender and Sam talked for almost two hours about the art of craft cocktailing, while we sat back and enjoyed the fruits of their conversation.

Our next stop was Madame Brussels where the waiters were wearing short tennis shorts and the gin was flowing like water. When it started to get a little cold on the roofdeck the waiters arrived with a drink, a smile, and warm blankets.

We saved the best for last: the Croft Institute. A Melbourne institution, CI is tucked at the end of a winding Chinatown alley well off the beaten track. We wandered past street art-covered walls and the back entrances of some shady Chinese restaurants before we found the place.

We staked out three stools at the downstairs bar, which was designed to look like a science lab complete with test-tubes and bunsen burners. Sam bonded with the bartenders, traded exotic drink recipes, and scored us a round of free drinks.

It was a great night of catching up with Sam and exploring Melbourne’s cocktail scene. But it was not such a great morning. We had set the alarm for 7 am so we could get an early start on our day, but we couldn’t get Erin to open her eyes long enough to drink her coffee.

It was closer to 10 am when we finally got out of bed and started our epic drive down the Great Ocean Road.

A few years ago we spent two glorious weeks in Australia for our honeymoon.  We toured Sydney, the Whitsundays, Cape Tribulation and everything in between.  It was a perfect trip that couldn’t be replicated, so we decided not to try.  Instead of re-visiting Queensland, we set out to create new perfect memories in Victoria.

Sydney may have the opera house, a beautiful harbor, and great beaches, but Melbourne has the style, charm, grit, and flair that makes this vibrant city one of our favorites of the trip.

We spent our first afternoon wandering the arcades and back-alleys that weave a maze through the Melbourne.  These arcades don’t have video games – they are narrow lanes full of al fresco eateries, boutique shops, and bars.  All this activity is squeezed into the small alleys of Melbourne to create a charming and intimate atmosphere.

Melbourne is like New York City in that it is a magnet for Australian artists and art lovers.  We skipped the high-priced galleries and instead took in the street art.  Graffiti is an accepted form of self-expression in Melbourne, and it’s legal and encouraged to paint the walls of designated alleyways and side-streets.   

The best part about returning to a developed county is the music.  Although we acquired a certain fondness for the folk music we heard all over Africa, India and Southeast Asia, it was nice to hear guitar chords and English lyrics.

In search of live music we went to Brunswick Street, which is known for its cafes, music venues and alternative clothing shops.  We stopped into a bar to check-out a honky-tonk act that sounded good from the street. 

The music was pretty good, but what really blew our minds were the fashionistas in the audience.  Retro fashion that has gripped Melbourne.  The bar was full of heavily tattooed ladies in vintage clothing and sporting 1950s-era hairdos.

We were lucky enough to be in Melbourne for the last night of the city’s International Arts Festival.  We stopped by a unique visual arts exhibit before making our way to The Forum for some live music.  The opening band had the entire venue on their feet.

Clairy Baby Browne and the Bangin’ Rockettes produced an amazing sound with one lead singer, three doo-wop girls, and an eight-piece soul band.  It was awesome.  We stayed for the headliner – a Brazilian garage band from Sao Paolo – that unfortunately couldn’t match the energy of their opening act.

Of all the bands we saw in Melbourne, the most fun was the 80s tribute band we saw on Halloween. 

It turns out that the Australians don’t celebrate Halloween with the same gusto as Americans (maybe because its springtime and everybody is too happy to be spooked), but we did our research and found out that the party that night was at “The Spot.”

We didn’t have proper costumes, but luckily our $10 cover charge included a free face paint.  We asked the artist to paint something bloody and scary, but instead she painted something that almost broke the cheeze-o-meter.

Melbourne is not just full of vintage shops and gritty artists, it is also a charming and beautiful city.  We arrived just in time for spring, and the Melbourne gardens are spectacular in full bloom.

Love was definitely in the air because every time we turned around we saw a blushing bride.  In just two days we counted 14 bridal parties!

Tasmania is a place of wild beauty. The island is actually quite small – about the size of West Virginia – but packed into that small space are mountain peaks, dense rainforest, incredible coastline, alpine meadows, great lakes, and eucalyptus forests.

Much like India, Tasmania explodes with color.  But that’s where the simliarities end.  Indian colors come from millions of people in beautiful saris and turbans tightly packed on the street.  Tasmanian colors come from a landscape completely devoid of people.

Driving across the island we couldn’t get over how green everything is.  It’s so green it looks fake. At any moment we expected little leprechauns to jump out of the trees.

Our first Tassie adventure was a 7-hour hike from our lodge to the summit of Cradle Mountain.  This impressive mountain rises 5,000 feet, towering like a giant stone cradle over azure Dove Lake.   

The most challenging part of our hike was the weather.  Technically it was springtime, but we experienced all four seasons: tropical heat in the valleys, cool rain in the forest, and snow at the top of the mountain. 

At one point we thought the trail had ended because there was no path. All we saw was snow and ice along the steep ridge of the mountain. We briefly considered heading back until we saw footprints in the snow. 

We were glad we stuck with it because the view at the top — and feeling of satisfaction from conquering the snowy ridge in inappropriate shoes — was worth it. 

We rented a cabin at the Cradle Mountain Lodge, which apparently doubles as a wildlife park.  We had our first encounter with a wombat – which is not a bat at all but a plump, groggy marsupial about the size of a cocker spaniel – just outside of our door.  Wombats are everywhere but are nocturnal and mostly invisible.  We didn’t see too many wombats, but we saw plenty of the little presents they left behind scattered all over the trail.  At times it was like we were playing hopscotch trying to avoid them.

We also stumbled on the elusive Tasmanian Devil in the wild.  We were very disappointed when he simply ran away instead of spinning around really fast and yelling Yablabaspfbnaerl! They are a lot smaller than we thought they would be, and they actually seemed kind of cute until they started shrieking.  When we heard that horrible noise we understood how they got their name. 

Unfortunately, it has become very rare to see a devil in the wild because of a spreading facial-tumor disease that is wiping out the population.  At one time, Tasmanian devils were everywhere, but in-breeding has made them susceptible to this strange disease and their numbers are dwindling toward extinction.

After a few days enjoying the scenery and fauna near Cradle Mountain, we drove east across the island toward Freycinet National Park.  The coastline in Freycinet is unmatched. There’s no development, few tourists and incredible colors. We hiked all around the national park – from the turquoise waters of wineglass bay, to the blinding white-sand of Hazards beach, to the orange, red and green rocks that border the park.

Along our journey we ran into a few wallabies that regularly hop around the beaches. They are so damn cute we wanted to jump in their pouch and hop around with them.  But we didn’t fit.

On our way back we stopped by an oyster shack.  The oysters were $2 apiece for pre-shucked and a bargain $.50 apiece for unshucked.  Despite Erin’s protests, we bought a dozen unshucked oysters and stopped at the market to pick up a shucker.

Jeff:  I had never shucked an oyster before, but I figured it couldn’t be that hard to figure out.  That is, until I picked up one of those strange creatures and stared in wonder at their seemingly impenetrable shell.

Erin:  Jeff was standing at the sink sighing heavily while I did my best to pretend like it was normal for someone to take 5 minutes to open one oyster.  Another five minutes passed and I started giving him my best I told you so look but he wouldn’t turn around.

Jeff:  Things looked grim, but finally the trial and error method worked.  It turns out that all oysters attach themselves to their shell in the same spot, and all you have to do is squeeze your knife into that spot and dislodge the muscle.  It’s actually very easy once you get the hang of it. 

Erin:  I heard a few victory yells coming from the kitchen, and I came out to find a plate of 12 deliciously shucked oysters and one very sweaty but smiling man.

After Freycinet we made our way north to the Bay of Fires.  The bay was given its name by Captain Tobias Furneaux in 1733 who saw the fires of the Aboriginal people on the beaches, but it might as well have been named for the bright-orange hued rocks that line the coast. 

The orange color comes from a type of lichen that glows like a hot fire when the sun hits the rocks. The blue/orange contrast makes the Bay of Fires one of the world’s top 100 beaches. We could barely tear ourselves away.

It all started with a great gift.  For our anniversary, Jeff’s parents offered to buy us dinner and put us up in a nice hotel.  Since we celebrated our actual anniversary with Danielle, Melanie, and Seth in Bangkok, we took a raincheck and spent the next several months trying to find a spot to celebrate properly.  It took us two months and four countries, but we finally found the perfect hotel located at the base of Mt. Fuji.

We booked an “East meets West” room at the Green Plaza Hotel.  “West” because the bed was a proper foam mattress, “East” because the mattress was on the floor.  As much as we wanted to stay in our spacious, inviting and sleekly decorated room, it was a beautiful day and we felt compelled to go out and explore. 

Some of the best views of Mt. Fuji can be seen from the shores of Ashinoko (Lake Ashi), so we crossed the lake on a sightseeing boat which was randomly modeled after a 17th century French sailing warship. 

The views alone were worth the price of admission, so it was an added bonus when we got off the boat and found ourselves steps away from a beautiful cedar forest planted more than 400 years ago.

Just when we thought the day couldn’t get better, we took the bus to Hakone’s magnificent outdoor sculpture garden.  The pieces were original, thought-provoking, and sometimes just downright weird. 

The highlight of the garden was the “Symphonic Sculpture” by Gabriel Lorie, a stained glass exhibit that featured a fifty-foot high cylindrical building where everything but the ceiling and floor was stained glass.

The sun was starting to go down and the garden was closing, so we boarded a cable car that would drop us near our hotel.  What we saw next took our breath away.

We’ve seen many, many sunsets on this trip, and each one has been special in its own way.  But when the cable car crested the hill and we saw the sky erupt into a sea of scarlet-red clouds, we knew we had seen the best.

We celebrated 3 years, a perfect day, and the most amazing sunset we’ve ever seen by sitting down to a delicious 7-course meal of non-identifiable Japanese food.  Afterwards, it was time for a soak in a Japanese onsen (bath). 

Perhaps the main attraction of the Green Plaza Hotel is its large onsen which is fed by natural hot springs.  In Hakone we learned that communal bathing is an huge part of Japanese culture.  The Japanese even have an expression for it: hadaka no tsukiai (“naked communion”).  The idea is that communal bathing in the relaxed atmosphere of a hotel or ryokan with an attached onsen helps with breaking down barriers and getting to know other people.  What a strange practice in a culture that is normally quite formal and reserved!

We thought it was a little weird to celebrate our anniversary by bathing with perfect strangers, so we skipped the public bath that evening and took advantage of the smaller private onsen in our room which had an excellent view of Mt. Fuji.

Walking the streets of the Gion neighborhood in Kyoto was like entering a different era.  Small red lanterns hang between the teak houses lighting the way for women dressed in kimono shuffling quickly between social functions.  Gion is unique in that it has largely avoided modernization and looks much like it did 50 years ago.  We could not help but admire the Japanese for the way they preserve their ancient culture even while living in a modern society. 

The Gion neighborhood is most famous for its tea houses where Geisha have been entertaining wealthy Japanese men for centuries.  Although the art of Geisha is waning in the modern era, there are still more than a few geishas walking the streets of Gion. We stalked one Geisha through the streets until she was nice enough to stop and allowed us a picture.

Although we saw the influence of Western culture all over Japan, young Japanese are not forsaking their rich cultural heritage for Nike and McDonalds.  All over Kyoto, we saw young girls in the traditional kimono dress, and even a blushing bride in a traditional white head covering.

Unlike Tokyo and Osaka, Kyoto was not a target of the carpet bombings that destroyed much of Japan during World War II.  Some of the oldest and most important shrines in all of Japan are located in Kyoto. 

 By far the most beautiful spots in Kyoto are the gardens.  In a fast-paced country where space is at a premium, the huge tranquil gardens located throughout the city are quite meaningful and impressive. 

Our favorite way to experience a country’s culture is through food.  The Japanese food is generally tasty, but it has been largely an unaccesible mystery to us.  In Tokyo we had very little idea about what we were eating.  In Kyoto we had absolutely no idea.  Even when there were English menus, they were not very helpful.

After spending our first few nights at a hostel, we decided to spend our last night in Kyoto at a traditional Ryokan.  A Ryokan is a type of traditional Japanese Inn that was most popular during the Edo period (1603-1868).  We checked into Kikokuso, an intimate two-story wooden Ryokan with an exquisite Japanese garden that has been family-run for five generations. 

Our hosts met us at the door and warmly invited us to join them as their guests for the evening.  We removed our shoes at the front door, traded them for laughably small slippers, and ambled down the narrow wooden corridor to our room. 

We opened the sliding door to find a lovely 10-tatami mat room with a balcony.  In the center of the room was a table, two legless chairs, and a pot of hot green tea.  We slipped on our Yukata – cotton kimono worn after bathing – and headed to the onsen for a traditional Japanese bath.  At night the table and chairs were pushed aside and futons were spread out on the floor to sleep on. 

While many Japanese still hold fast to their ancient customs, we also saw evidence that the times are a-changing.  One afternoon we wandered into a coffee shop run by a father, mother, and daughter.  The shop was quiet and so the daughter invited us to join her and her friends at their table.  We learned that the family had made kimonos for several generations, but that the business closed because fewer and fewer people wear kimonos.  The family decided to open a coffee shop where they display kimonos and try to revive interest in this ancient dress.  The shop was celebrating its one-month anniversary that afternoon, and we promised to come back when the shop celebrates its 10-year anniversary.