​After the wedding, Vince and Rachel organized a trio of tours to showcase the best of Moorea. We had already gotten our bearings on the Francky Frank 4WD truck tour, which gave us a geological, botanical, and cultural introduction to the island. Now it was time for the adrenaline-pumping adventure sports. I’m talking driving ATVs on dirt mountain roads, cruising the lagoon on jetskis, swimming face-to-face with sharks and stingrays… bring it on!

​All of our tours began at the Moorea Activities Center, a short drive from the villas. The first activity was ATV-ing, which I had never tried before. We donned hairnets and helmets, paired up two people to one vehicle, were given a brief explanation of the controls, and jumped right into the drive. The controls were a little challenging, mainly because the accelerator was a thumb-controlled switch on the handlebar. The guide warned us that thumb fatigue could be a limiting factor. There was no power steering, so it was an upper body workout trying to turn the handlebars. But the real kicker was the interaction between the steering and accelerator. Trying to hold constant hand pressure on the accelerator while torquing the steering system required skillful muscle group isolation. Which I did not develop in the 2.5-hour session. Due to the muscle groupings, it felt like the steering response was different for left vs. right turns.

​The journey started on normal paved roads, where normal sized cars suddenly looked a lot more intimidating. Soon, we turned onto a network of dirt mountain roads and stream crossings, where concentration was required. Since I was an ATV novice and had Mom on board, I wasn’t planning on breaking any speed records. Even at a measured pace, controlling the ATV wasn’t a walk in the park. At one point, the guide went up a slope onto a parallel trail, and I tried to follow suit. The bump steer pulled the accelerator out of my grip, and the ATV didn’t have enough momentum to make it up the hill. It was a scary moment of trying to regain control. But in between the rugged sections, I got to enjoy the open fields of pineapples and breadfruit trees, plus views of the volcanic ridges.

​We made a few stops to enjoy the scenery, including a return to the Belvedere Lookout. However, the most memorable stop was to see the blue-eyed eels. These enormous eels were able to swim upstream through shallow water, towards the feeding area where guides offered a snack. A significant portion of the eels’ backs were exposed, making quite a splash as they slithered against the current. I was invited to feel one – it was incredibly soft and incredibly slick. What marvelous creatures.

​​My brother kindly offered to let me ride as a passenger, so I could fully enjoy the last leg of the journey. At the end, we stopped at local store for a jam tasting and blended juice drinks. Overall, I'm glad I tried ATV-ing, but it didn't strike me as the safest sport. I'm content to get my adrenaline elsewhere.

We had a short lunch break between tours. I joined a group going to Snack Mahana, a local restaurant by the beach. Their generous portion of tuna sashimi was fresh and tasty.

​The afternoon tour was a boating and snorkeling expedition. We tried on masks and fins at the Activities Center, and then were off. The boat started by taking us from Opunohu Bay to Cook’s Bay, passing by a mysterious luxury yacht with a helicopter and the Hilton with the overwater bungalows. We spotted a pod of dolphins, unusual for the afternoon (they are more active in the morning). From this lagoon perspective, we could even see our villas on the hillside.

​The first snorkeling stop was a perfect warm-up. The lagoon was protected and shallow, so we could stand on the field of coral debris while we adjusted our gear. Moving as a group, we followed the guide into the reef. Along the way, the guide swam down to the bottom and found a few show-and-tell items, like an enormous pineapple sea cucumber with big gummy spikes. In some places it was deep, and I practiced diving down without the snorkel to get closer to the fish. In other places it was shallow, requiring extreme care not to accidentally kick the coral. Back in the boat, we hydrated with juice, and in some cases, with alcoholic Tahiti drink.

​The second snorkeling stop came with a catch – we would not be swimming, but instead riding along with a strong current. We had to jump in at the same time to avoid getting separated. Looking down 20 or 30 feet to the bottom, we could appreciate how fast the current was moving us. It was like being immersed in an ocean freeway. Towards the end, we spotted a group of well-camouflaged turtles hanging out on the floor, including one that surfaced for air.

​Sharks weren’t the only cartilaginous fish in the lagoon. A dozen stingrays were also waiting by the boat! The stingrays were large, round, and not afraid of people. They brushed their wings against us as they swam past. We were a bit nervous as they were “armed” with stingers, and we didn’t know their intentions. But it turns out they were accustomed to humans, as the guides were giving them food. The rays would even turn themselves vertically and poke their mouths above the surface, surrounding the guides with flapping and splashing wings. It was a delightful and totally unexpected sight. We all had the chance for plenty of ray petting (and hugs) as there were so many around us. We later learned the term for a group of stingrays is a “fever” – and this was most definitely a fever of rays! I’m already a big fan of rays, and it was the kind of memorable encounter that won over the rest of the group too.

​It was our last night in the villas, and we went for a group dinner at the Holy Steak House at the bottom of the hill. The table was livened up with pina coladas and frozen daiquiris. After so much seafood the past few days, many of us were craving hamburgers, but the restaurant didn’t have enough for everyone. Only on a remote island would a steakhouse run out of burgers. The chocolate dessert was delectable.

The next morning was logistically a bit tricky. We ended up moving our jetski tour earlier in the day, so we could return to the villas for checkout and for one group to catch a taxi (the small rental cars didn’t have enough space for everyone plus luggage). There was a little scrambling but it all worked out.
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It was my first time operating a jetski, and I was wary after the ATV experience. As it turned out, having the accelerator on the handlebar wasn’t an issue because the steering the jetski required less torque, and there was no bump steer from the ocean. Still, there was a learning curve. Going at slow speeds in the harbor, it felt like the jetski was fishtailing, but this impression faded at higher speeds. Leaving the harbor, the wakes and waves caused the jetski to pitch side to side, which was a little discombobulating. The guide’s suggestion was to go faster, but I found the jetski stability was most improved by steering in a gentle S-pattern. I think having the handlebars straight allowed for passive steering from the ocean. The gentle turning seemed to get rid of the slop.

​Cruising across the protected lagoon was spectacular. The shadows of the coral were visible through the blue water. It felt like gliding over a highway of glass. The greenery of the mainland and the occasional motu (small island) added to the atmosphere, and a pod of dolphins made an appearance. I was much more comfortable on the jetski than the ATV, and made it up to the max speed of around 60 km/h. There were some moments of bumpiness, but it only added to the adrenaline rush.

We made a snorkeling stop, dismounting from the jetskis and exploring a small reef. The guides offered us scraps of food so we could feed the fish ourselves, and I gave it a go. I loved being surrounded by the colorful schools and seeing them at eye level. Most fish were content to chase the scraps I let loose with my right hand, but a few smart fish went straight for the stash in my left hand. This was one of the few snorkeling trips where I had left my GoPro behind (I wasn’t sure it would stay onboard the jetski) and it was refreshing to simply be in the moment. However, I had to release the food early because a large stingray was approaching, and the guide didn’t want us feeding the rays. While rays may not be the most emotive animals in the world, I swear that ray looked disappointed.

​My brother’s destination wedding in Moorea was one of the original “anchors” of my world tour. Before I had a detailed plan for seeing New Zealand and Australia, I knew the ANZ trip would ultimately end by flying east to French Polynesia in mid-June. It was a small, family wedding with just 13 people. A great chance for the two families to build lasting memories together, while also getting to know the island of Moorea, which was special to Vince and Rachel. And could you think of a more beautiful place to celebrate their love? It was magical.

​As with many travel stories, the process of getting there was anything but magical. I started with a redeye flight from Melbourne to Auckland, where I endured a 12-hour layover. It was a haze of McDonald’s flat whites, napping with a beanie pulled over my eyes, and browsing Kiwi souvenirs for the nostalgia hit. When I flew from Auckland to Tahiti that evening, I crossed the international date line, and time traveled backwards a day. It was now my second June 15th, after already having a substantially long one in Melbourne. This only contributed to the sense of perpetuity.

Most of the wedding group had arrived in Tahiti an hour ahead of me and found their way to the airport hotel. Despite their written directions, it was a nightmare finding the entrance to the hotel. It was dark, the signage was poor, I had a bulky suitcase, and I had already sweltered for an hour in the immigration line. I lugged my suitcase up multiple hilly driveways, only to find none of them connected with the lobby, which was tantalizing visible at the top of the hill. A group of local teenagers carry fishing rods called out to me in a language I didn’t understand. I wasn’t sure if they were trying to harass me or help me, but eventually they caught up. In the end their intentions were good, but they certainly got a laugh out of my predicament. They confirmed I was going in the right direction; soon I found the right driveway. Out of an entire year of traveling, this stressful experience was up there.

​I shared a room with my parents, who I finally saw for the first time in 8 months. A happy but groggy reunion. In the morning, I got to properly see (or meet!) the rest of the group. We took taxis to the dock and awaited the ferry to Moorea, the social thrill of conversation superseding the lack of breakfast. The tall mountains of Tahiti, the largest island in French Polynesia, were impressive now that they were visible in daylight.

​On the ferry ride, I had a light breakfast including a pineapple filled pastry, my first taste of French-Polynesia fusion food. The ferry ride was smooth and pleasant. As we approached the shores of Moorea, we spotted outrigger canoe teams racing around the bay.

The rental car agency was disorganized. We waited our turn in a courtyard with some chickens. Unfortunately, it turned out our reservation was with a different company on the other side of the bay. Thankfully the second agency was more organized, and we soon had keys for 3 cars.
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The first mission was buying groceries before the main store closed, just 30 minutes after securing the cars. It was a desperate shopping trip, trying to find comfort foods in a foreign store with foreign brands. The fruit selection was disappointing, with papayas and bananas that never ripened. The only reliable fruit were berries imported from the US. We cobbled together bags of croissants, peanut butter, coffee, yogurt, and charcuterie, and checked out right as the store prepared to close.

The second mission was getting ourselves to the villas on the other side of the island, where we’d be staying for the first four nights. The cars were stuffed with suitcases, groceries, and we tried to balance navigators between the cars, as cell reception wasn’t a given. Thankfully there was only one main road on the island, so the hardest part was knowing when to turn into the villas’ driveway. Along the way, there were many palm trees and stray dogs, lingering precariously close to traffic.
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There were three villas, all independently rented AirBNBs within the same complex. They quickly developed nicknames based on their occupants. At the top of the hill was the California Villa, with my parents, grandma, and uncle. (It was also known as the Party Villa as it was the location of the wedding reception.) The middle villa was the Vegan Villa, with Vince, Rachel, and Rachel’s sister and mom. The third  villa was mine, the International Villa. My villa-mates included Rachel’s cousins from Germany, her dad, and her Argentinian step-mom. These four were the only four I hadn’t met prior to the wedding, so it was nice to have extra time with them.

​The villa was luxurious, with a small pool, a balcony with incredible views of the lagoon, a kitchen, a spacious living room, 3 bedrooms, and 2 bathrooms. I slept in the room with no AC, but the two powerful fans kept it to a reasonable temperature. The tall, latticed roof and sliding panel doors added to the sense of grandeur. I joked that the kitchen layout came with an island – because there was a small island visible off the coast. We suspected it was the private “motu” (small island) where the wedding would take place. The villa came with a few critters too. The tiny ants were very resourceful at finding food scraps, so most food was tucked in the fridge for safe keeping. There were also many geckos, decorating the walls and windows at night and adding to the tropical soundtrack with their chirps.

​After such a busy morning, we were eager for a late lunch. We went to a local restaurant called 02 Coco for the first pina coladas and poisson cru of the trip. Poisson cru is like a coconut milk ceviche, featuring tender raw fish and veggies, and is a typical dish in French Polynesia. The waiter was a charismatic fellow who infused humor and bravado into every step of the ordering.

​Later in the evening, we drove to the Hyatt for a welcome dinner alongside the sharks and rays. The restaurant was located on the same boardwalk as the property’s overwater bungalows. After enjoying seafood crepes (and a dessert one too!) we looked over the railing and watched the underwater show.

​It was nice to have an unstructured morning for everyone to settle in. After a good night’s sleep, I went for a swim at the pool, and met up with my parents, uncle, and grandma who were finishing a morning workout of their own. The five of us picked up some poisson cru from a local mini-mart for an efficient lunch before the afternoon activity.

​A private 4WD tour with our guide “Francky Frank” was a great introduction to the island’s geography. The two 4WD vehicles were trucks with modified beds, including benches, railings, and a cover. The first stop was a viewpoint called Magic Mountain, accessed by a very steep track that consisted of two parallel rails of concrete.

​On the way up, the jungle scenery and glimpses of the mountains were an appetizer, with the best views awaiting at the top. We could see across Opunohu Bay, named for the stonefish, a venomous and well-camouflaged peril of the reef. The guide explained the geology of French Polynesia. Moorea was middle-aged compared to its noteworthy neighbors: the older Bora Bora, and the newer Tahiti. Each island formed as the tectonic plate moved relative to the hot spot below, similar to Hawaii. Over time, the volcanic mountains were sinking into the ocean, forming a ringlike atoll. Hence, the older Bora Bora has a smaller peak and a larger lagoon. In the case of Moorea, the volcanic ridge was not a perfect circle but more of a C-shape, as the lava flows carved a path like an asymmetrically melting candle. In the shallow part of the crater were two bays, Opunohu and Cook, separated by Mount Rotui. The shape of Moorea is often described as a heart-shaped, so perfect for a wedding!

​The second stop was at a black sand beach at the tip of Opunohu Bay. This was one of the deeper harbors, where a freshwater river met the saltwater ocean and caused a gap in the reef perimeter. One of the guides demonstrated a conch shell bugle call, used to announce a peaceful boat arrival (or advertise the catch of the day). As a transmitter of information, the conch was deemed worthy to play by mouth. However, Polynesian instruments for aesthetic purposes are traditionally played using the nose, like the nose flute.

The third stop was at a vanilla plantation, which was starting back up after a few years of lower production. The vanilla plants had a T-shaped trellis that allowed them to grow up, fall down, and grow up again – the vanilla pods tend to form on the downward vines. Moorea isn’t the biggest vanilla producing island, but generally speaking, French Polynesian vanilla is considered extremely high quality and fetches a premium price around the world. The plantation had examples of other tropical fruits, a friendly cat, and a café with delicious sorbets.

​The fourth stop was the Rotui juice and Manutea rum factory. Many people probably haven’t heard of Rotui, as all the juice is produced for domestic consumption! Specialization (and inter-island trade) are an important part of French Polynesia’s economy, given its small population and isolated location. The tasting sampler was all over the place, from sweet coconut rum to grassy Rhum Agricole that was so difficult to get down, it required a juice chaser. Vince and Rachel recognized the bartender and found a picture with him from a previous visit. A separate French family tried to elbow their way to the crowded counter, got into a rude argument with the bartender, and left in a huff. The gift shop had lots of treats. I thought it was funny that the non-alcoholic juices were guarded behind the cashier while the alcoholic bottles were easily accessible on the main floor.

​The fifth stop was a pineapple plantation, with the cutest little pineapples forming in the middle of spiky bushes. Yes, they grow on bushes – not on trees! Moorea is famous within the archipelago for its pineapples. At the wedding reception, mini pineapples were used as table decorations. And were also delicious as leftovers.

​The sixth and final stop was the view from Belvedere Lookout, which included Mount Rotui and its two bays. The jagged volcanic peaks and lush greenery were beautiful at sunset.

​Dinner was in smaller groups; I went to the steakhouse just down the street from the villas with my parents, grandma, and uncle. I had a pina colada, a fish fillet with vanilla butter sauce, and we shared a crème brulee in a coconut shell for dessert – yum!

In the evening, I hung out on the patio and chatted with Matteo, one of the German guests. Together we polished off a carton of Tahiti Drink, the boozy fruit juice with a hint of vanilla. Matteo and his girlfriend Kim had traveled around California with Vince and Rachel the week prior. The leadup to the wedding sure had a lot of moving parts!
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The day of the wedding had finally arrived. The women had an early start at the Vegan Villa for hair and makeup, while the men had a later start at the International Villa. I was among the first group sent to the motu, by a combination of a land taxi and a water taxi. It was an unexpected wet boarding, and our dress shoes were hastily doffed before stepping from the shallow water into the canoe, a motorized single outrigger. I later found out that Rachel, in her wedding gown, was lifted on board by the taxi driver! It was a beautiful boat ride across the lagoon, with the shadows of coral visible through the clear water. We even saw a turtle breach the surface, waving a flipper – surely a wedding greeting.

​The motu itself had a small pier and pathway made of concrete pavers. The path led to a clearing with a gazebo and chairs, set up right on the beach. Those of us on the first boat waited in a shaded picnic area. For the ceremony, we were asked to remove our shoes, but it turned out to be a rather sharp coral beach that was tough on the feet. At least the weather was kind, with a mild temperature, no rain, and sunlight during the ceremony. And our theory was correct: it was the motu we could see from the villa!

​Rachel and Vince arrived in the second boat, and looked stunning in their wedding attire. He wore a light blue suit, commissioned during their visit to Vietnam. She wore an elegant white dress, picked out in SF, that I don’t have the vocabulary to adequately describe, but I remember liking the minimalistic sleeves. Seeing them so finely dressed together with Moorea’s lagoon and mountains in the backdrop gave two differing impressions: of a picture-perfect movie wedding that shouldn’t be real, yet simultaneously, something so perfectly harmonious that my brain accepted it as an image that had always existed.

​During the ceremony, I was invited to share a little speech, including a poem that reminded me of their ethos as a couple. Rachel’s sister Val played the role of MC and unofficial officiant. (The legal wedding would occur a week later, at City Hall in San Francisco). The bride and groom shared their thoughtful custom vows. It was just perfect. After the ceremony, we stayed for some group photos on the beach. Then it was off to the Party Villa for the reception.

​The hospitality at the reception was simply phenomenal. We were met with cheerful flower leis that smelled like jasmine and live music from a singing and strumming duet. The server Pedro took very good care of everyone, bringing out tropical drinks and announcing the meal courses with warmth and sincerity.

​Chef Marc, who we later learned had his own brand of packaged food, impressed us with his creations from the first hors d’oeuvres to the final crème brulee. Some of the food highlights? The pina coladas were the best I had on the entire trip. As a seafood lover, the salmon sashimi, grilled octopus, and fish fillet were a real treat. The vegan options were similarly adored. And for dessert, the vegan cake was a bit of a celebrity. The only vegan bakery in the archipelago was on Tahiti, and so the cake had to be hand carried to Moorea aboard the morning ferry!

The parents all read speeches at the lunch reception, which were loving and sentimental. A photo album, sent by Rachel’s relatives in Germany as a gift, was another source of merriment. As tradition dictates, Rachel and Vince cut their cake and did an impromptu first dance.

It was the most idyllic afternoon, as close to paradise as one can ever reach.

​My visit to Australia, seemingly limitless in its runway, finally reached its conclusion on June 15th. In total, I spent 180 days in the country, just under 6 months. So much had happened since I stepped off the plane in Hobart, Tasmania back in December. I had spent 70 days traveling domestically within Australia, or 39% of my visit. The remaining 61% was spent living in Melbourne, the perfect hybrid of local living and city sightseeing. I became quite fond of Melbourne, and greatly benefitted from having an extended time to explore its CBD, suburbs, parks, and events.

While I’m in a retrospective frame of mind, it’s interesting to look back on the cost of the trip. Australia is an expensive country, and staying budget conscious was a recurring theme that shaped the way I lived my life there. Even still, the total cost of the trip was around $26k (USD). The domestic travels cost around $14.5k, which translates to about $208 per day. This includes flights, hostels, food, tours, etc. The stay in Melbourne cost around $11.5k, or about $103 per day. This includes my room rental in Carlton, going to events in the city, groceries, health insurance, souvenirs, etc. The apartment was the largest item, accounting for over 55% of my Melbourne expenses. While I wish I had found a cheaper place (or was able to break my lease early), the apartment was also a huge source of stability and peace of mind.

Before leaving Australia, one of my bucket list items was trying kangaroo meat. It’s considered a game meat, as it’s sourced from wild kangaroos rather than farmed animals. In the country, there are more kangaroos than people, so with some geographic and quota restrictions, it’s considered sustainable. Of course, it’s been a bush food for thousands of years (though some of the traditional cooking methods sounded less than appetizing). There weren’t many restaurants in Melbourne that specialized in native foods, but I read online that kangaroo meat was available from some chain grocery stores. To my surprise, I found a pack of K-ROO brand steaks at my local Woolworth’s.
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I cooked the steaks in a frying pan, following the instructions to sear it for 5 minutes on each side. The initial color was redder than beef, but the final result was very close to beef in both color and texture. The kangaroo was just a fraction chewier and tangier. There were lots of leftovers, which were useful for repurposing in other recipes. My last breakfast in Australia was a kangaroo omelet.

​I had the chance to say farewell to my friends from the furry community at the usual Tuesday night barmeet. I hadn’t seen JC, Sed, and Daniel in a few weeks, and it was good to catch up. Even Reggie made it despite having a long workday. Perhaps I will see them at a convention in the US someday. Since it was my last time at the bar, I made sure to visit the legendary sticker wall in the men’s bathroom. It was a running joke in the group chat, but also a metaphor for the way a tolerant space can foster community.

​Even though I was out of running shape, I made sure to savor a final run around the Carlton Gardens. Over the course of a few months, it had transformed from a summer picnic ground to an autumn wonderland. I’ll miss the relaxed recreation atmosphere of its tai chi groups, rollerbladers, basketball players, and tourist groups. The 96 tram ride past the Royal Exhibition Building was one of my favorite cinematic perspectives of the city.

In anticipation of my brother’s wedding, I went for a professional haircut at Buddy’s Barbershop, the same place I visited when I first moved to Carlton. As before, the stylist Jan was relaxed and engaging. It was a busy day, and while I waited, I overheard another customer venting about their daily struggles to another stylist, who was extremely supportive and validating. I suppose a barbershop visit can be a form of therapy.
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Following the gin tasting at Four Pillars, I was eager to try the whiskey at Starward in Port Melbourne. Gail, who always was up for trying a new local spot, was kind enough to join me. We actually walked to Starward from her house in South Melbourne, as it wasn’t too far away.

The space at Starward was a warehouse with modern trappings, like concrete counters and artsy lighting. It wasn’t very crowded, so we got a prime seat at a booth that was partially closed off by a chain curtain. The tasting flight was pre-empted by a “amuse-bouche” (mouth amuser) of a refreshing spritz. The three whiskeys were all finely crafted. One was aged in wine barrels from Yalumba, a winery I visited in Barossa Valley. Though I must admit, I couldn’t pick up any major differences between the three whiskeys. The cheese plate we ordered was also quite good, as were the whiskey-infused olives. Following the flight, we had some whiskey cocktails including a tasty Negroni and Old Fashioned with wattleseed syrup.

Since we were still a bit hungry, we stopped at a neighborhood pub for an extra bite and drink. The chips and calamari rings were hot and fresh, just what we needed. It was the perfect pub atmosphere, where a stag party ordering shots by the tray was perfectly at home alongside a family with a cute but mischievous dog who visited our table. Over the course of the evening, Gail and I talked about everything from footy to family, work challenges to writing inspiration.
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On June 15th, I had to be out of my apartment by 10:00am. I did a final sweep, said goodbye to the unsightly fish painting that was the only decoration, and locked in the keys. Down in the kitchen, I set my dishes free in the communal cupboard and left the usable ingredients for others to claim. Zachary, my flatmate who lived abroad in Spain, had left a sweet handwritten note on my door in case he missed my departure, but we ended up having the chance to say goodbye in person. Zachary was the only remaining resident that I knew. The old guard had cleared out. Dani the medical student had been gone a few days. Eirik the Finnish student had left a day earlier. Joaquin the Chilean student was leaving at the same time as me.  It felt like the whole apartment, already somewhat devoid of life, was going into full hibernation.

​My flight wasn’t until late at night, so I had a whole day to kill. I had brought my large suitcase to Gail’s the night before, so I just had a backpack of essentials with me on the final day. I decided to work my way down Lygon Street, getting a final taste of Little Italy. I started with coffee at King & Godfree, where I watched the street scene from a cozy counter.

​Next I headed to DOC Espresso for lunch. I convinced Ben to join me there, who was on call for work but hadn’t been summoned to repair any coffee machines yet. We sat on the patio, where a surprising amount of sunshine kept us warm. I had a delicious piece of lasagna. It felt like being at a charming European café. The fellow patrons wore colorful hats and thick rimmed glasses and held purse dogs. One of the head honchos from Ben’s company happened to be sitting nearby, and we exchanged brief introductions. After the meal, I went inside to pay using leftover cash, which was accepted with mild surprise in this contactless payment society. As I already knew, Ben was only going to be staying in Australia a few more months, before moving to Wellington in the new year. We wished each other all the best.

​Continuing down Lygon Street, I spent a little time at the reliable sanctuary of the Kathleen Syme library. Then I headed to Fossey’s Distillery for a mini rum tasting. It included their house Red Gum Rum (aged with red gum wood) and a Queensland rum called Nil Desperandum (“do not despair”) that was very good. The tasting kit included ice, tongs, and a special ginger beer as a mixer. It was a quiet day and the bartender even poured some of their coffee liqueur. I loved the cozy cellar ambience of the tasting room. In three consecutive days, I’d now sampled gin, whiskey, and rum at three different distilleries!

​My next goal was walking through the Botanical Gardens, but the whole thing was closed down for a nighttime light installation. Instead, I sat at my favorite spot on the edge of the Yarra River. The lighting was simply gorgeous – Melbourne was making my last day special. As I sat at a metal picnic table, a group of magpies started hopping towards me. One got uncomfortably close, just a foot from my foot, and staring up at me. Though nervous, I knew that magpies were too smart to attack unprovoked. I moved my foot aside, and the magpie gobbled up a piece of food that was hiding underneath. Phew! It hopped up on the table to hunt for scraps and pose for a photo, its orange eye still a bit menacing. Then, the trio of magpies continued working their way down the path, sweeping for food like an organized search and rescue team.

​I headed the other direction, following the river towards the CBD as the sun set behind the skyline. It was positively pleasant. I found a quiet food court and journalled while sipping on a boba tea. Stores were closing down surprisingly early, and I was lucky to get a discounted tray of Korean chicken before the store shut at 7:30pm. A few minutes later, the food court was flooded with footy fans, decked out in Richmond Tigers or Hawthorn Hawks scarves. A game at the nearby MCG had presumably just ended. The fans were similarly disappointed with the lack of food options and kept walking.

​Soon it was time to end my day. I lingered over the colorful lighting in Southbank and across to Flinders Station. Then I took my last tram ride, to Gail’s to collect my suitcase. Reggie picked me up and drove me to the airport, which was really nice. Unfortunately, they had been in a motorcycle accident earlier the day and seemed a little flustered. If I had known, I would have made other arrangements to spare Reggie the trouble. Still, I was grateful that Gail and Reggie both were a part of my final day. They were my true local hosts, and I’ll miss them tremendously.

​Despite having been to the Melbourne airport on 9 previous occasions, this was my first time seeing the international terminal. My bloated suitcase earned a “HEAVY” tag at the Jetstar counter. Thankfully the wheels I had manually replaced held up. When checking in, the staff had to verify that I had a flight out of New Zealand (I had a one way ticket to Auckland, where I would be switching to another airline).

​The duty free shops were chock-full of Tim Tams, so I picked up one last sleeve to go. There was also a Brunetti outlet with a respectable subset of their desserts. Nothing like the selection at Brunetti Classico in Carlton, but I still indulged in an opera cake and a tiramisu tart. There were only wooden utensils available, which felt like a crime to use on these elevated desserts.

​For once, my plane was taking off east. Since the airport was on the west side of the city, I caught my first and only glimpse of Melbourne from above. It was shrouded in fog, so I was prevented from hunting for familiar landmarks, a bit anticlimactic.

The lead up to my departure had been a slow build, but the physical act of leaving went by in a blink. I had a feeling that I’d be back someday, which made it a little easier to say goodbye.

In my final week in Australia, I had my eye on two destinations outside of Melbourne, both accessible by public transport. Ballarat is a gold rush town known for its historical theme park, Sovereign Hill, that brings to life the mining heyday of the 1850s and beyond. The other town, Healesville, is part of the Yarra Valley wine region. Its animal sanctuary was highly recommended to me, and a famous distillery called Four Pillars happened to be nearby, so it was an easy sell!
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Even though it was the off-season and the weather was cold and gloomy, both Sovereign Hill and the Healesville Sanctuary were large enough attractions to still have plenty of tourists, arriving on buses. Getting there on public transport required patience but was very much in my wheelhouse.

There was a direct train from Melbourne to Ballarat, which I was familiar with from my previous journeys to the Grampians and Castlemaine. I sat in the dedicated quiet car and edited a speech for my brother’s wedding, catching the occasional glimpse of a kangaroo as the hills and reservoirs rolled by.

An hour and a half later, I started my walk across Ballarat towards Sovereign Hill, admiring the grand brick buildings on the main streets. The walk continued on a creek-side bike path through a sleepy neighborhood. I encountered a few magpies near the intersection of Magpie Street and Grant Street. The layout of the theme park was a little confusing, but I found the entrance and bought a ticket.
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The first area that one encountered was a tent city, inspired by the beginning of the gold rush when miners and their families had just arrived. It was my first encounter with the costumed actors who brought the town to life. A chipper butcher offered me a choice of mutton, mutton, or mutton. It was a funny dynamic between the disoriented tourists stumbling upon a new place with new rules, and the actors who were in their element and accustomed to engaging with tourists.

​The park had a number of events and demonstrations, more than you could see in a single day. I started with an orientation tour that pointed out the key locations and event times. As we walked the main street, we had to step aside for a horse-drawn carriage that was doing laps around the town. It was such a vivid sight, with the hoof prints in the mud and the warm vapor of the horses’ breath.

​I scouted out some of the artisan shops, including a blacksmith, a bakery, and a print shop. Posters with “current events” were a frequent site around town, presumably from this very shop. I was delighted to find the printer was taking commissions for souvenir posters and got one for my dad. The printer showed me the process of typesetting, applying the ink, and pressing the paper down onto the letter blocks.

​I was the only one in the shop and continued chatting with the printer while the poster dried. He had relatives in the US and expressed concern about US gun culture. It turned out he was a gun owner himself, and described the details of his responsibilities regarding permits, storage, and inspections. The whole conversation was a little bizarre. Here I was in a recreation of a gun-slinging frontier town, talking about modern gun control with a printer in an apron. I told him I was ending my trip soon, and he encouraged me to look for engineering jobs in Australia so I could stay, even writing down the website “seek.com” on a piece of paper for me – a website I was all too familiar with from my working holiday job hunt.

​I continued exploring the town. There was a post office, a candle maker, a bowling alley, a lollie shop, and an iron foundry. The storefronts had beautiful facades and signs advertising their wares. Metal drums containing fire were the perfect place to warm one’s hands in the cold. On the side streets there were houses with gardens and animals like donkeys, Rhode Island Red chickens, and guinea fowl. There were a few small places to grab a bite, including a hotel pub with its own brand of beer on tap. I stopped by the bakery for a sausage roll and their signature vanilla slice, a tasty dessert that reminded me of the kremsnita I tried in Slovenia.

​One of my favorite stops was the wheelwright, a functioning workshop that uses traditional woodworking and metalworking techniques to maintain the site’s horse carriages. There were signs that explained the machinery used to carve the wheel hubs and spokes, bend the wheel rims, and press on the metal “tires.” I marveled at the intricacy of the component design, which despite relying on wood as a material, was extremely sophisticated. In particular, the way the profiles of the spokes were contoured to act as shock absorbers. A craftsman working in a cordoned area was happy to share more information. He showed me some of the specialized carving planes used to create the body of the carriage, tools that were probably 100 years old. He also pointed out a recently restored carriage with elaborate decorative linework, all hand-painted by a local artisan. It was inspiring: both the ingenuity behind these seemingly antiquated techniques, and the dedication to keeping these trades alive.

​Of course, the mining history of Sovereign Hill was an important part of the visit. There was a river for gold panning and a free underground experience with holograms. The holograms told the story of the Welcome Nugget, found near Ballarat, and the 2nd largest gold nugget ever discovered.

I also paid for a guided mine tour that went deeper underground via tram. It was just one of three options, showing how much depth there was at Sovereign Hill (literally!) During the tram ride, we were asked to remain in darkness and silence. I couldn’t see my hand held in front of my face. At the bottom, we regrouped in an antechamber. The group had around 15 or 20 people including a few Asian tourists who didn’t speak English well. The guide sternly told them to turn off their phone flashlights several times before they got the message. The guide (or perhaps his costumed character, hard to tell) was a strict military type, who was to be addressed as “sir.”

We followed a network of drives (horizontal tunnels) past decommissioned shafts (vertical tunnels). These were made during the later mining era, when individual miners had consolidated into corporations and heavy machinery was used to extract gold from quartz deposits. The miners descended in crowded baskets and used pneumatic drills instead of pickaxes. The quartz blocks were brought to the surface, where they were crushed and sifted for gold flakes.
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The most amazing part of the tour was an earlier mine that was rediscovered by coincidence. It was originally excavated by a small team using expert Cornish techniques. Dozens of wooden poles, jammed in to buttress the ceiling, were still in place. The guide told us that the miners had dug down from the surface until they struck a quartz deposit and then removed most of it. The miners were smart enough to leave some of the dense quartz in place to ensure the stability of the mine.

​Back on the surface, I attended a gold pouring demo where molten gold was formed into a bar. It was similar to the one I had seen at the Perth Mint, and just as scintillating. The gold pourer at Sovereign Hill was charismatic and went into good detail, even explaining the process of chemically removing impurities.

After the demo, I happened to see the gold pourer outside. I was surprised to hear that he had only been running the demos for a few months. He said that folks from the Perth Mint had visited Sovereign Hill and were impressed with the furnace used for melting the gold, which was state of the art. Within earshot of the conversation was the guide for the quartz crushing machinery demo. The quartz crusher showed the gold pourer some gold flakes that were produced as a by-product of the crushing demo. They reckoned it was worth around $20. Talk about some unusual day jobs!

​For the school groups, the highlight was surely the confectionery where boiled lollies are still made the old-fashioned way. The confectionery is considered one of the oldest continuously operating businesses in Australia, dating back to the 1850s. The confectioner melted and mixed a vat of hot sugar, then poured it onto a table where it was cooled and worked. The way the viscous mass flowed and congealed was mesmerizing (like it was alive!) Then a hand cranked press turned the sugar into a sheet that resembled bubble wrap. In a dramatic flourish, the confectionery slammed the sheet onto the table, shattering it apart into individual lozenges. To minimize the candy grabbing chaos, two trays were filled and handed out: one for the school group and one for the casual tourists. The resulting lollie was a tart berry flavor, and unsurprisingly, of excellent quality. (Side note: the use of the word “lollie” instead of “candy” was one of the few Aussie terms that I had trouble embracing, but it was somehow fitting at Sovereign Hill.)

​The final pop-up event was about the evolution of mining detonator technology. An actor in a top hat pretended to be a salesman-inventor, demonstrating his new voltaic battery by creating a small explosion with a time delay. The actor was a talented comedy improviser, who bantered with the audience. He had previously approached me on the street, noticed my poster from the print shop, claimed I was an outlaw myself, and tried to convince a nearby police officer to arrest me! The detonator routine was a fun way to end the visit.

​On the way back to Melbourne, I stopped for in the suburb of Footscray for dinner. Footscray has a diverse immigrant population and is known as a foodie destination. I sought out something I hadn’t tried before – Uyghur Chinese food. The Uyghurs are a Turkic ethnic group in northwest China that are being oppressed by the Chinese government. Uyghur food was a bit like a fusion of Turkish and Chinese food, and the enormous menu at Karlaylisi was beckoning in so many directions – noodles, stuffed breads, and dumplings all sounded good. I settled for a tomato-based noodle stir fry and a pot of their house tea. The sauce and toppings were so flavorful, and the noodles were tender and chewy. The tea was a little too sweet, so I couldn’t finish the whole pot. The restaurant only had one other guest, which was a shame because it was so good!

​The train journey from Melbourne towards Healesville was going smoothly until I encountered the dreaded “replacement bus,” the bane of every Melburnian living in the outer suburbs. Instead of going all the way to Lilydale, the train stopped at Ringwood and I had to follow a bunch of confusing signs to an unmarked bus that would complete the journey. And at Lilydale, there were no bathrooms – it turned out the station itself was under construction. I managed to find a bathroom and catch the next bus to Healesville, which didn’t run very often and was the key connection.

The bus ride itself was scenic, journeying through the relaxed small towns of the Yarra Valley. At one point the bus driver pulled over and ran into a café. It was a misty morning on the beautiful country roads. Some roads were so remote that they lacked lane markers. I felt that a public bus had no business in such a peaceful backwater, but there we were, so I soaked it in.
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At the Healesville Sanctuary, I bought a flat white and set out to see some cute Australian animals. What can I say, I’m a creature of habit – these sanctuaries (and espresso drinks) never got old.

Not needing to gawk over the emus and koalas gave me more time to see the less common denizens. Away from the main kangaroo pasture, I watched a shy Parma Wallaby emerge from its private fenced garden. Its ears were quivering as if it was cold. I later learned this was a form of communication. I wonder what it was trying to tell me?

​One of the daily keeper talks was focused on the Tree Kangaroo, an endangered marsupial found in northern Australia and New Guinea. They spend their whole lives in trees and are adapted to jump between them. A lunch portion of leaves was brought to the treehouse, where the Tree Kangaroo largely stayed out of view. Their appearance was similar to a lemur. This Tree Kangaroo was part of a breeding program, and the keeper said that a joey might be on the way.

​The most stunning animal of the day was the Satin Bowerbird. As soon as I approached the edge of its cage, it burst into a loud song of robotic whistles and chirps, complete with sharp head movements. Its uncanny behavior was honestly a bit frightening. Its perfect impression of a kookaburra laugh, seamlessly blended into the routine, only added to my shock. No one else was nearby to witness the spectacle, and I wondered if I was going crazy. I later learned the Bowerbirds are known for building elaborate nests using blue objects. But their mimicry alone was unique enough to be memorable for me!

​The sanctuary had an excellent house for nocturnal animals, kept in darkness with red tinted lamps. One exhibit had several handsome quolls with spotted coats. In another, I was shocked to see a real live bilby – of Easter Bilby fame. It was a ball of energy, sprinting laps around the obstacles in its habitat. Its enormous ears were so cute! They also had a Mountain Pygmy Possum, a tiny and endangered marsupial with big black eyes, that adeptly climbed up some branches.

The flagship bird presentation had to be cancelled, as there was a wild wedge-tail eagle that had a front row seat to the ampitheater. Later on, when I was walking through an enclosed aviary with lorikeets and cockatoos, the same wedge-tail eagle did a flyover and sent the sanctuary birds into a panic.
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The sanctuary had a hospital area with glass windows. I circled through a few times, and on the third attempt, caught a procedure in action. A colorful Swift Parrot was receiving x-rays, while the previous patient, a wombat with diarrhea, recovered from anesthesia in the arms of a veterinarian. Nearby, a friendly staff member was more than happy to have an extended chat and answer my questions. She even had an echidna quill for show and tell.

​Towards the end of the route, I stumbled upon a lyrebird in the middle of an elaborate birdsong. A staff member explained it was the time of year where Apollo (named for the Greek god of music!) was giving regular performances, every hour or so. I loved the way Apollo fanned out his tail feathers like an umbrella over his head, and then folded them up when the song was done. I had previously seen wild lyrebirds browsing through leaf litter in the Blue Mountains and Ferntree Gully, but getting the full performance was a real treat.

​A dinosaur-themed wing of the park had enormous animatronic velociraptors and T-rexes posed against a natural backdrop of gum trees. Australia really does have all the most dangerous animals!

Unlike many of the other sanctuaries in Australia, the Healesville one didn’t have a kangaroo feeding element. However, the range of animals and quality of the infrastructure were top notch. It was a great way to say farewell to all my favorite species, the recurring characters of my Australia adventure.

After the sanctuary visit, I took the bus to Four Pillars Gin distillery. This brand was a staple at Australian bars, and I had previously enjoyed a cocktail made with their Bloody Shiraz gin.
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I started with a gin tasting that ended up being a private guided experience. The bartender explained their distilling process, with the equipment visible through a round window, and poured several tastings. Along the way, he introduced me to the botanicals used in their gin, conveniently sorted in glass cups so I could smell their individual aromas. There were staples like juniper, coriander, and star anise, plus Australian botanicals like pepperberry and lemon myrtle. The tasting covered their standard gin, Navy Strength, Spiced Negroni, Bloody Shiraz, and “Sticky Carpet” gin – inspired by the beer-stained floors of the Espy in St. Kilda. The bartender was kind enough to let me try some additional types, like yuzu gin and barrel-aged Bloody Shiraz gin. It was a fun and unique tasting experience.

​Afterwards, I headed to the restaurant-bar for a few gin cocktails. After having relatively little alcohol the past few months for budget purposes, it was the end of my trip and I finally decided to splurge. I started with their classic martini. Not my typical order but man did they nail it. The second drink was a Tiki style drink with gin and orange marmalade. During the tasting, I learned that the distillery uses fresh orange as a raw ingredient, and later converts the orange scraps into marmalade. I thought it was cheeky to then use the marmalade in a drink alongside the gin. Of course, as a responsible citizen, I also had some food and water. The glass water bottles were stamped with a hilarious and practical phrase – “NOT GIN.”

​There you have it. I really “struck gold” on these day trips to Ballarat and Healesville.

One of Australia’s public holidays is called the King’s Birthday. It was formerly known as the Queen’s Birthday and many people were still adjusting to the new name! It’s not actually celebrated on the monarch’s birthday, but rather is commemorated on the second Monday in June. (Sorry Charles.)
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The 3-day King’s Birthday weekend coincided with the beginning of my last week in Melbourne. Since many people were off work, it was a convenient chance to spend time with local friends before leaving town. I ended up squeezing in 6 different social engagements, including a footy game at the MCG!

The first was my usual Saturday morning Parkrun at the Kirkdale reserve with Ben. As usual, the race organizer asked if anyone was visiting from other cities or Parkrun sites. There were several runners from other Australian capitals, presumably in town for the long weekend.

It ended up being my 8th and last Parkrun. Even though it was a bit inconvenient getting out of bed and commuting to the park, I still grew fond of this Saturday morning ritual. I would see Ben again before leaving town, so it wasn’t goodbye to him just yet.
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In the afternoon, I finally had the chance to meet my Aussie-Czech relatives at a historic pub across from Flinders Station called Young & Jackson’s. They were visiting Melbourne from Gold Coast to watch footy with their kids over the holiday weekend. At the pub were two brothers, Jason and Danny, and two of their kids. We had a lovely chat over a few pints.

Quick refresher on the family connection. My great grandmother Marie, who moved from Czechoslovakia to New York, had a sister named Frances who moved to Tasmania. Frances’ daughter Eva worked as a dentist in Penguin, alongside her husband Antonin who was a doctor. Eva and Antonin had two children – Mark (who died young) and Dan, the father of Jason and Danny. Dan worked as a plumber and moved to the Gold Coast, where he built his own house. Jason and Danny had two older siblings, Nate and Nicky, who were born in Tasmania before the move. Nowadays, the whole clan was rooted in Gold Coast – the four adult siblings, their spouses’ families, and their kids. If things had worked out differently, it would have been delightful to meet everyone during my visit to Gold Coast in May. I was still so thankful that Danny and Jason happened to be in Melbourne and made time to meet with me.
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They were both personable and generous fellows. They insisted on buying the drinks. Later on, they had their kids bring money to the homeless man outside the window (the “Aussie way,” as they described it). Jason worked for a hotel chain that spanned from Hawaii to the Maldives and traveled a lot for work. He thought the Polynesian sense of hospitality was even more impressive than Australia’s. One time, Jason had visited the Czech town of Hluk, where our mutual ancestors were from. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much luck finding family as he didn’t speak the language. Danny was a yoga instructor and painter, working on a teaching credential. He spoke with an air of wisdom and gratitude, keeping a positive perspective on life’s hardships. He and his daughter enjoyed surfing, and while in Melbourne, they visited the UrbnSurf manmade wave pool.
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The two brothers had memories of visiting Frances and Eva in Penguin. They told stories that added color, like Frances being a whirlwind and giving one of the kids an ashtray as a spontaneous birthday gift. I learned that Eva was an unmatched host who ensured there was excessive food available. One time, the brothers visited Eva and deliberately didn’t notify her about the visit until they had already landed in Launceston, as they didn’t want a fuss. But as soon as they got off the phone, Eva (who couldn’t drive at that point) took a taxi to the grocery store and was back with food before the guests arrived. We also talked about their father Dan’s reluctance to talk about their Uncle Mark’s suicide, and how he changed to become a more active grandparent after his wife died of cancer.
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I sincerely hope to see them again, perhaps in the US! Danny had once visited California and Oregon, recalling times in Santa Monica and the Avenue of the Giants. And Jason goes to Hawaii regularly for work. In any case, it was great to make the initial connection. The mystery of these Gold Coast relatives had been a loose plot thread in my Australia adventure – a seed planted during my very first week in the country in Tasmania. Here it was, my last week in the country, and resolved in the best way possible.
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Sunday morning, I took the train to Elwood and met with Zeah for a coastal walk and a coffee. The sky that day was gray but peaceful. While talking, we strolled past expensive mansions and runners from a community event who were dressed as footy players. I mentioned I was going to see the Grigoryan Brothers perform a concert later in the day, and Zeah provided the insider scoop on their careers and styles. She mentioned teaching at an event in the Philippines, where the Spanish influence has maintained interest in classical guitar. The café she selected was modern and cozy.

When it was time to say goodbye, I thanked her for arranging the guitar I borrowed in Melbourne and for making the time to see me. It was so special to keep the Suzuki guitar network alive and spend time with someone who shared my admiration for the late Frank Longay, my teacher in California. At the same time, I couldn’t help but feel a sad sense that the golden days of the Suzuki guitar community had passed for Zeah. The financial pressures of teaching, fewer opportunities to travel to conventions, and COVID impacts on student engagement sounded like a challenging combination. I hope these gray skies eventually clear for her.

I needed to stop back at my apartment in Carlton for lunch and a change of clothes. There was a massive anti-Israel protest in the middle of the CBD that blocked both Swanston Street and Bourke Street, the two major tram arteries that I relied on. I eventually made it back, wolfed down some food, and hopped on the bus to the next engagement of the day.
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The Grigoryan Brothers, Slava and Lenny, were playing a concert at the Collingwood Town Hall. I had only recently been made aware of this Australian duet, a recommendation from my Servas host in Perth. One of their albums, This is Us, immediately caught my ear. It was commissioned by the National Museum of Australia in Canberra, which I coincidentally visited in March. Each of the 18 original compositions were inspired by an artifact in the museum, including one called Thylacine – the same preserved thylacine which I previously wrote about in this blog. I looked up the brothers’ concert schedule and found they were touring the country for their latest album, Amistad. I knew I had to see them!

The beginning of the concert was a set from Amistad, many of which were composed by friends of theirs. Hence the title, Amistad, meaning “friendship” in Spanish. One piece was by the well-known guitar composer Leo Brouwer, titled Blue Mountains. It was inspired by Brouwer’s visit there, but I liked the real Blue Mountains much better than the song. The middle of the program included some guitar duet staples, like the Suite Retratos. Their fast playing was a feat of athleticism!
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To my delight, they ended the program with two pieces from This is Us. The first was called Loven Token. It was inspired by the carved coins that convicts would give to their loved ones before being shipped away to Australia. Lenny read the inscription of the specific coin at the NMA that had inspired them – “Dear brother / When this you see / Think of me / From far away.” The two brothers wrote the piece during COVID lockdowns while living in different cities, giving it extra significance. The last piece was an energetic piece called Don’s Bat, inspired by the cricket legend Don Bradman. The backstory needed no introduction for this Aussie audience.

​The Grigoryan brothers concert felt like the cherry on top of my weekend. But the event I had been anticipating the most was still to come – an Australian rules football game at the Melbourne Cricket Ground. Abbreviated as the MCG, and further shortened to the “G,” this was the most hallowed sporting hub of the city, and maybe even country. It was a short train ride from Collingwood to the “G.” Outside the gates, I met up with Gail who had agreed to accompany me to my first footy game.

​Tonight it was the Carlton Blues vs. the Essendon Bombers. My newly adopted team vs. Gail’s team. A perfect match to see together. Gail had the equivalent of MCG season tickets, covering both cricket in the summer and footy in the winter. Our initial goal was getting into the MCC member’s reserve, which had a dress code. It required a collared shirt and no torn jeans, so I wore the nicest clothes I had in my limited wardrobe – my wedding khakis and shirt. A little out of place, but oh well. Even though we arrived several hours in advance, we didn’t get into the MCC section as it was popular on a holiday weekend. Instead, we ended up in one of the highest rows in the highest section. I actually liked having a panorama over the whole stadium, which made it possible to appreciate the scale of the venue. There were 88,500 fans in attendance that night!

​Before the game, we had roast meat sandwiches and beers in a crowded food court. It was elbow to elbow, but most people were glued to a TV screen showing another footy game. We wandered the halls, looking at sports memorabilia including a statue of Don Bradman, a painting of the victorious women’s soccer team, a tapestry of notable MCG history, and many other pieces.

​The two teams burst through their club banners and took the field for warm-ups while their club anthems played. Afterwards, a group of four brothers made an appearance on the field. They were all retired footy players, including one with Motor Neuron Disease (MND) who created a campaign to raise awareness of the disease and funding for research. The campaign was called the Big Freeze and was celebrating its tenth year. It was a beloved tradition of the footy community, and the stadium was filled with Big Freeze blue beanies. In the days after the match, the blue beanies were a common sight all over the city.

Then the game began! Aussie rules football gameplay is non-stop action. The players can dribble, toss, or kick the ball forward. The field is quite large, so there’s a lot of running involved. If a teammate catches a longer distance kick, it’s called a “mark” and they earn a free kick. Whenever there was a successful mark close to the goal posts, the crowd got excited about the impending shot on goal. Six points are awarded for the inner goal, and one point for the outer goals (called a “behind”). The box scores are reported with three stats: the number of goals, behinds, and total score (6x goals + 1x behinds).
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Carlton and Essendon are both suburbs of Melbourne, so there were lots of fans from both clubs. Essendon was the designated home team, and the stadium screens had celebratory animations when the Bombers scored. However, this match was a Carlton blowout. The Blues quickly accumulated a comfortable lead and maintained it the whole game.

The stadium was a lot less rowdy than an American sporting event. Sure, there were some groans of disappointment at players or referees. But there was minimal chanting or heckling, as the fans were too focused on actually watching the game, which didn’t have many breaks. Gail mentioned that a closer game would have been more tense and exciting, so perhaps that was the difference.

After the game, we had a drink on a patio with a view of the city skyline and watched the fans pour out of the stadium. Seeing a game at the MCG is something I will always cherish.

​Monday was the King’s Birthday holiday. In the morning, I went out for brunch with Reggie. The place was called the Pancake Parlour, an American-inspired Aussie restaurant. Fitting for an American-Aussie friendship. Reggie told me it was a childhood favorite, and it was nice to lean into their nostalgia. It was one of the few places in Australia serving bottomless drip coffee, a staple of American diners but unheard of in Australian espresso country. I ordered the tiramisu pancakes, which were decadent and amazing. Despite having a sweet tooth, I couldn’t finish them!

​We hung out near the State Library until Reggie had to take off. I wandered back into the State Library, which I had previously toured but not explored. I found a Lego model of the building in the basement, designed by the host of Australian Lego Masters. The high angle views of the octagonal La Trobe Reading Room were wonderful. I attempted to see if there were any newspaper articles about my Czech relatives moving to Tasmania, and got some help from a librarian, but eventually hit a dead end.

​That evening, I met up with my friend Gill who I met on the Kakadu tour. Gill was a fellow resident of Carlton, and had just gotten back from her additional week in the Northern Territory. We went to a movie at the Cinema Nova, a beloved Carlton institution right above Brunetti. Within the cinema there was an outdoor patio overlooking Lygon Street, offering a new perspective on this familiar place.

​The movie was a gripping documentary about Australian car culture, called Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga. Joking aside, Mad Max was a fun movie to watch in Australia, as it not only takes place in a post-apocalyptic Australia, but it was filmed in NSW and featured Aussie actor Chris Hemsworth as the main villain. It was good, over-the-top fun. On the way out, Gill commented it was neat to have a movie with so many Aussie accents. I hadn’t even registered this fact, after being surrounded by the accent for so long. The cinema had a message board where people could leave handwritten reviews, and Gill stopped to add hers.

​Afterwards, we grabbed a drink at a bar on Lygon called Good Measure. It had chic lighting, a DJ spinning records, and an edgy cocktail menu that was a little out of its depth. I ordered a babka-inspired drink with clarified milk that came with a piece of stale babka on a skewer. The coasters had a cute logo of a magpie-lark. Gill described it as a very “inner Northern suburbs” bar.

Gill had spent her whole life in Melbourne, studying and working in financial law. Even though Sydney is the country’s financial capital, she was pretty rooted in Melbourne, due to her family and owning a condo. We talked about travel and theater and other random topics. It was funny to think that despite living a few blocks apart, we had met in Darwin of all places.
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Even if I was largely an anonymous traveler in Melbourne, this social weekend had reminded me of the low-key but meaningful relationships that I’d cultivated during my time there. Ben, Jason and Danny, Zeah, Gail, Reggie, and Gill are all people I hope to see again someday. The long weekend was the perfect time to see them all.

​Sometimes life doesn’t lend itself to the episodic format of this blog. Two such examples: my brief 2-day stint in Melbourne between visiting the Whitsundays and Darwin, and the slow 4 days after returning from Darwin. Both chapters took place against the backdrop of Melbourne in winter, a sharp contrast from the tropical weather in Queensland and the Northern Territory. Here’s a post to fill in these two gaps in the timeline.

Part 1: Back from Whitsundays
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My immune system was worn day in the Whitsundays. The unseasonable Antarctic winds, getting in and out of the water to snorkel, living in close quarters with other travelers, and long days on the water had finally caught up with me. Melbourne’s cold weather didn’t help. I had a runny nose and phlegmy cough, and kept them at bay with copious amounts of orange cinnamon tea. Also, after 4 weeks on the road, being able to cook my own familiar recipes was something I found surprisingly comforting.

​The Lonely Planet Australia guidebook that I had borrowed from the Carlton library had finally run out of loan renewals. I took photos of the pages still relevant for my final weeks, and then slid it through the book return. Symbolically, it was the beginning of the end. I started to spend more time thinking about “bucket list” destinations in Melbourne.

​One such place was Brunetti Classico, the Italian café and dessert institution. I’d passed it dozens of times but hadn't tried it yet. The foyer’s display cases of eclairs, tarts, cakes, biscuits, and chocolates were simply stunning. It took me several passes to absorb the options, many of which had unfamiliar names. Ultimately, I chose a chocolate éclair, a lime tart, and a “fleur cake” with lemon sponge and rhubarb compote. So tasty! The fleur was a big winner.

​​The café itself had an interesting layout. By the Lygon Street entrance, there were outdoor concrete tables and a dedicated gelato window. There was also a second entrance from inside the Lygon Court shopping center, which had more traditional wooden café tables. I sat by the coffee bar, which had two levels of baristas. The baristas in the inner circle hopped from machine to machine making drinks, while the baristas in the outer circle consolidated the orders and handed them over the counter.

​On the café floor, waiters in black aprons promptly picked up empty plates before they were discovered by small birds taking advantage of the open layout. While leaving, I discovered an enormous backroom with even more display cases filled with Italian breads and sandwiches. Brunetti was the real deal!

I had a chance to see Reggie, who had just started a new government job at the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS). Transitioning back into working life had been rough. The cluttered apartment reflected Reggie’s worn-down state. A new addition to the living room, a shopping cart filled with boxes, took up the last remaining floor space. Though as always, we had a good chat about life.
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Attending a Saturday morning Parkrun was another rough re-entry. I hadn’t logged any kilometers since my last session a month earlier. After the workout, Ben and I went out for brunch in Carlton. He had recently bought an old "ute" (utility truck), charming in its antiquity – a manual transmission, hand-crank windows, a lack of power steering, and a steering wheel lockbar to deter theft. It had been owned by a mechanic and was in good shape. Ben was a competent driver, sharing the road with trams and finding parking despite not being able to make a U-turn. I was impressed!

​His brunch recommendation, a spot called Florian on Rathdowne Street, was also on point. I had a delicious riff on eggs benedict with sauteed greens. It might have been my first proper Aussie brunch. Surprising it took so long, given the country’s “brekkie” culture.

Part 2: Back from Darwin
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It was a 4-hour flight from Darwin to Melbourne, and a 30-minute time change. After a groggy 5:30am landing, SkyBus ride, and tram journey, I was back in Carlton and ready for a proper nap in my own bed – sleep schedule be damned. The next 48 hours were a haze of napping, writing blogs, and having meals at strange times. The marmalade jam from Judy was delicious and didn’t last long. I met a new flatmate, a friendly fellow Californian named Justin. We discovered we had some mutual acquaintances back home.

Done with my regional travels in Australia, it was now time to start thinking about my upcoming trip to French Polynesia. I went to Kmart to buy a pair of khaki pants to wear at the wedding. Kmart always seemed to have the most random US themed clothing, like a whole section of Rhode Island t-shirts! Thinking of New England, I also shipped a box of souvenirs to my friends in Boston. The cost of international postage was actually reasonable.
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Back in exploring mode, I headed to the Shrine of Remembrance to check out the military museum. This was the same shrine where I attended the dawn service on Anzac Day (April 25). My second visit happened to coincide with another commemoration: the 80th anniversary of D-Day. When I arrived, a small event was about to begin in front of the shrine. I entered the shrine and climbed to the top to see the ceremony from above, including a procession and band performance. There were also excellent views of the Melbourne skyline.

​The museum had great exhibits on all the major world wars and modern conflicts. I felt like it tied together a lot of the historical nuggets that I’d accumulated from 6 months in Australia – the Gallipoli campaign, the Kokoda track, the bombing of Darwin, etc. There was also a neat exhibit on how military uniforms have influenced popular fashion, like trench coats, bomber jackets, and camouflage. The museum was free to visit, and circling back was worth the effort.

​I also browsed the free exhibits at the ACMI, the Australian Center for the Moving Image. It was a fun and interactive museum, covering film history and modern techniques like editing and storyboarding. It also covered video games, and had working consoles loaded with noteworthy or innovative games. It had a reference to an Australian TV show called Bush Mechanics, one of the first shows in an Aboriginal language. Later in the day, I watched an episode on YouTube. It was quirky comedy about car troubles in the Outback, with some magical realism mixed in.

​During a Woolworth’s grocery run, I bought a quince (fruit) because I had never seen one in a store before. Only later did I realize it couldn’t be eaten raw. To do it justice, I poached it in sugar water and had it for dessert. It tasted like a spiced pear – delicious!

​My final days in Darwin offered new perspectives on the region. They were also some of the most random days of my entire trip, with unexpected activities and characters. The whirlwind was largely orchestrated by my Servas host, Judy, who generously accepted me as a guest for two nights. I also visited the Tiwi Islands for a wonderful window into Aboriginal culture.

​Judy’s place was in a neighborhood that was originally built as housing for government officials who relocated to Darwin. It was the tropical version of the leafy suburbs, with palms and backyard pools, and had largely survived the 1974 cyclone. The typical Darwin house was two stories tall, with the main rooms on the second floor and the garage or laundry below. I initially thought this design was related to flooding, but it’s actually for catching the ocean breeze – similar to the Queenslander style homes in Brisbane. I stayed in a guest room on the lower level, where multiple fans were needed to survive the heat. At least my laundry dried quickly!

When I first arrived, Judy’s son was also there. He lived in a nearby town called Humpty Doo and had a part-time job running fishing charters. Today he had caught a “goldie” (golden snapper) or two, but otherwise the fish weren’t biting. On bountiful days, he might get a portion of the haul to bring home. He headed home to rest, as the fishing schedule was skewed early in the day. On the theme of fishing, the city council runs a lake fishing competition where people who catch one of 100 specially tagged barramundi can win vouchers for local businesses.

Judy had plans to see a movie at the Deckchair Cinema, which was celebrating its 30th anniversary. She had invited me in advance, but I wasn’t sure if my tour would drop me off in time, so I had declined. Tickets were now sold out, but she offered to drop me off at a Nepalese Festival happening by the waterfront. After 5 days of basic road trip meals, some fresh momos sounded pretty good.
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We carpooled with Judy’s friends, originally from the UK, who were also going to the movie. The car had bumper stickers of a Scottish flag and “Albo for PM.” The driver handed a physical copy of a British newspaper to the back seat, and the recipient grumbled over a front page article about Rishi Sunak. We encountered a Darwin-sized traffic jam by the waterfront. Apparently the worst it gets, but mild by the big city standard.

​The Nepalese Festival was in full swing. There was a mainstage with dancing and singing, a model of Mt. Everest, a tent with arts and crafts, and of course, a food courtyard. People were dressed in beautiful traditional clothing, like saris, vests, and Dhaka topi hats. I had a mango lassi and a round of fresh momos, assembled by a cooking crew in realtime. Since I had explored the waterfront on foot when I first arrived in Darwin, I knew there was an elevator to a bridge with views overlooking the whole extravaganza, which was a great place to soak in the scene.

I had several hours to kill, so I found a quiet patch of grass and sorted through Kakadu photos, until the sprinklers turned on and I had to abruptly relocate. As a consolation prize, I found some delicious gelato.
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The fireworks show at the end was worth the wait. The waterfront area was the perfect sized venue, and the dazzling colors were reflected in the manmade lagoon. The unobstructed views were a nice contrast to the tree cover during my last fireworks show, in Sydney’s botanical gardens on NYE.

On the drive back to Judy’s, we traveled along the lively Mitchell Street and passed by the Youth Shack, Crocasaurus Cove, and Shenanigan’s. Seeing the Darwin party scene from inside a car with a bunch of old ladies was a funny contrast from my initial experience staying in the middle of it.

That evening, I finally had a chance to chat with Judy and get to know her better. She came across as practical and strong-willed, possibly from her upbringing on a farm near Adelaide. Her career was in teaching; she had moved to Darwin around 40 years ago for a teaching job. Now in retirement, she stays involved with her local church group, volunteering at its Op Shop, and tutoring immigrants who are learning English. Like many Servas hosts, she had traveled extensively in Asia and Africa, and told stories about church mission trips to Cambodia. She was a generous host, but I could tell she was used to running the show. Many of her anecdotes involved triumphing over other people, whether it was errant schoolkids, police officers who mistakenly pulled her over, or tradies who tried to overcharge her for repairs. I had to admire her grit. The NT isn’t for the faint of heart.
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The next day, my only goal was checking out the MAGNT, a local museum and gallery. Judy didn’t think I would need much time there and offered to take me for a driving tour in the morning. It ended up lasting about 2 hours. I felt that suburban Darwin didn't merit such an extensive tour, but by the time I realized how far we had driven, it was too late. We stopped at her daughter in law's house, where Judy spent 15 minutes trying to fix the irrigation system, further prolonging the outing. We did make two stops that I enjoyed. One was at a local beach that was spacious and relaxed.

​Another was at the Rapid Creek Market, which specialized in Asian produce and food. I picked up a “paw paw” (papaya) salad for lunch, which was made to order with fresh ingredients and a giant mortar and pestle. Judy didn’t care for Asian food, and said she didn’t visit the market often, which made me a bit sad, as it was an excellent market.

​I finally made it to the MAGNT museum, much later than I was hoping. My visit was ultimately cut short by the closing time, but I thoroughly enjoyed browsing its extensive galleries. They spanned modern Australian art, local flora and fauna, Cyclone Tracy, Aboriginal culture, early 1900s settler history, and a huge open-air pavilion of boats and ships. Its best know exhibit was a taxidermy crocodile named Sweetheart, which became Darwin's unofficial ambassador at world conventions.

​The 1900s history was particularly interesting. The Northern Territory was originally part of South Australia, but eventually was handed back to the federal government in order to more rigorously invest in the NT’s development. In the early days, Chinese migrants outnumbered white migrants, but many were expelled when the White Australia policy was implemented nationwide. There was info about the pearling industry, where mother-of-pearl shells were cut into buttons to satisfy the international market before plastic buttons were widespread. I learned that Qantas is actually an acronym – Queensland and Northern Territory Aerial Services – which helped link Darwin to the rest of the world. ​The shipyard of boats was also neat, ranging from small canoes to large pearling ships and Vietnamese refugee ships.

It was a short walk from the museum to Mindil Beach, where I had a second round at the Sunset Market. I browsed souvenirs, had Chinese food for dinner, and watched the sunset. It was significantly more crowded than the previous week – a sign that peak season was imminent.

​At the market, I purchased a piece of artwork that caught my eye. I learned the artist was the shop owner’s brother! I also bought some gluten free cakes and brought them back to share with Judy, who I knew had a sweet tooth.

​Since Judy worked at an Op Shop (thrift store) she happened to have a collection of Lego that she was sorting through. When I mentioned my passion for Lego, she brought out the tubs and we attempted to piece together a complete set. It was fun hearing her life stories while rummaging through the familiar bricks. She recounted the hardships of farm life, like keeping food cold using a low tech refrigerator called a “Coolgardie Safe.” She had sadly lost a sister to cancer, at a time when the radiation treatments were too strong and caused collateral damage. She had a house in Adelaide, which she rented as an AirBNB while not there visiting her children. At the end of the evening, we decided the Lego sets were fine mixed together. She was planning to donate them to kids in Cambodia.

A day trip to the Tiwi Islands was my final outing. The tour went to Bathurst Island, one of the two large islands in the group. The other, which is less populated, is Melville Island – Australia’s 2nd largest island, between Tasmania and Kangaroo Island.
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It was a 2+ hour SeaLink ferry ride from Darwin, across the Beagle Gulf, and to the town of Wurrumiyanga on Bathurst Island. The sea was calm, and I sat outdoors on the second story to enjoy the breeze. A little light conversation with a lady from Melbourne and some Americans from Colorado helped pass the time.

When we arrived on the island, we were sorted into groups based on the version of the tour that we booked. Mine had a focus on Tiwi screen printing, though it had a lot of overlap with the regular itinerary.
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Our guide was a cheerful and charismatic local whose name was Vivian, but went by the nickname Baffi. He was dressed in a turquoise tank top with a rainbow sash, and was both playful and informative.

​We started with a traditional smoking ceremony. A group of 7 or 8 Tiwi men and women introduced themselves one-by-one, and our tour group did the same, including where we were from. I was the only non-Australian out of the dozen or so. Overall, the other guests were extremely inquisitive, both about Tiwi culture and about my own story. The tour was expensive (almost $300 USD) and had clearly filtered out everyone except the most die-hard cultural travelers.

The smoking ceremony is an important Aboriginal ritual performed many places in the country, and it was special to participate in one. Our hosts filled the fire pit with leaves and started the blaze with a lighter. Then, we all walked around the fire pit in a circle, absorbing the smoke as a symbolic cleansing, moving to the beat of wooden clapsticks. We took our seats, and the locals performed short dances that imitated the movements of different animals, like sharks, crocodiles, or brumbies (wild horses). Baffi explained that the real dances were significantly longer – this was just the TikTok version! I had a brief chat with one of the Tiwi men who had visited California and enjoyed it. By coincidence, this was the first Monday tour of the year, and the locals seemed especially energetic. I imagine by the end of the season, the ceremony would be a little more perfunctory. Lucky us!

​A light snack of coffee and damper bread with jam was served. Then Baffi led us on a walking tour through the town. He explained some of the traditional artifacts, like pukumani (burial poles) and tunga (bark baskets). Many of the art galleries in the big cities like Sydney and Canberra had pukumani on display; here I was in their place of origin! Baffi also explained the Kurlama yam ceremony, a 3-day event where the first yams of the season are ritually cooked. He told us some of the creation stories, like Murtankala forming the land and Purukuparli mourning his son, the origin of the pukumani funeral rituals. He also mentioned that Tiwi people avoid looking at comets and rainbows.

​On the walking tour, we made a quick visit to a museum that explained some other noteworthy Tiwi chapters. After the bombing of Darwin, a Japanese fighter pilot crash landed on Melville Island. The pilot was captured by a Tiwi man and turned over to the Australian military. Another room celebrated the Tiwi islanders' enthusiasm for Australian rules football. Despite being a small community of around 2,000 people, they have enough players for 8 club footy teams! Even the 90-year-old Catholic nun was driving around in a Sydney Swans electric wheelchair.

​The next stop on the tour was an old Catholic Church, built in 1941. The altar was decorated with beautiful Tiwi designs, though these were a more recent addition. The checkered history of the missionaries in the Tiwi Islands wasn’t directly addressed in the tour, but I gathered that some of the island’s churches hosted (and abused) the forcibly sent children of the Stolen Generation. At the same time, the missionaries introduced some of the textile printing techniques that helped turn the Tiwi Islands into an art destination. It’s hard to untangle these positive and negative influences.

The lunch that was included was surprisingly tasty and generous with portions. I chatted with some gregarious Aussies, who told stories about visiting Native American reservations in the US. Then it was time for the hands-on portion of the tour – a screen-printing workshop!
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We donned aprons, looked over the potential patterns, and brainstormed color schemes. We had a choice of making a tea towel or a t-shirt. The master artist, a fellow named Allan, showed us the technique for scraping the paint across the screen. I was indecisive about which pattern to use, and initially wanted to use the same pattern as another lady. The tour didn’t have enough time to clean and re-use the screens, so Allan found me a similar one in the back. Turns out he designed the pattern himself!

​The mixing of the paint was all done by Allan. I suggested three colors, but he did the hard work of blending them into a gradient and adjusting the balance by adding extra white paint. Then, with his guidance, I used the squeegee to apply the paint to the cloth. I was thrilled with the result.

The tour didn’t provide much information about the history of printing on the Tiwi Islands, but I did ask Baffi about how the patterns were made. The originals were hand carved, then transferred to the screen using lithography in a darkroom. Baffi pulled out an enormous screen the size of a front door, which was marvelous compared to the tiny rectangular screens for our tea towels.

Unfortunately, we were tight on time. After letting the prints dry in the sun as long as possible, Baffi ironed and packaged them up, and sent us to the ferry. I didn't even have time to look at the art shop.

​The ferry ride back to the mainland was also calm. I talked to a guy from Colorado again, learning the backstory behind their unusual itinerary which focused on Darwin and Canberra. They were from the US Air Force’s computer controls division and had received approval for a perspective-widening trip. While in Australia, they wanted to learn about First Nations culture and visit war monuments. The fellow I was talking with was the officer who organized the trip, and the others were his cadets. He was friendly and seemed to be appreciating the travel on a deep level. Once back home, he was going to be leaving active service and transitioning into university research. I couldn’t help but think: this is what our US military budget is paying for?

After 2 hours in the sun, I was feeling a bit roasted. As a nice gesture, the boat staff handed out freezer pops for everyone. I knew them as Otter Pops, but I think they’re called Zooper Doopers in Australia. One of the military cadets was nice and collected the empty pouches. At the ferry terminal, I noticed a funny looking bird called a masked lapwing, with triangular yellow wattles by its mouth.

I had a late flight, close to 1:00am. Since Judy was a night owl, she stayed up and drove me to the airport. She even sent me off with a jar of homemade lemon marmalade, from her tree in Adelaide. It was one of many examples of her hospitality, and another reason to be thankful! I got on the plane and braced for a return to the cold in Melbourne.

As you can see, Darwin was an eclectic blend of cultures and ways of life. From fireworks at a Nepalese festival, to a Tiwi Islander smoking ceremony, to sorting op shop Lego with Judy, each day was dynamic and kept me guessing. If novelty is the core of travel, then Darwin passed with flying colors.

Day 1 of Kakadu had been fast-paced and loaded with highlights. The remaining 4 days of the Top End tour progressed at a more relaxed pace. Which is not to say they were short on adventure! We continued another day in Kakadu National Park, attempted Cahill’s Crossing a second time, drove south to Nitmiluk National Park to see Katherine Gorge, and finished in Litchfield National Park. Embedded in each day were abundant chances to swim, either in campsite pools or scenic rockholes with waterfalls.​​

​Breakfast at the campsite in Jabiru was a humble selection of cereal and toast. The kids, being good Aussie citizens, adamantly made sure there was Vegemite available. A popular conversation topic was dealing with last night’s uncomfortable heat. We pieced together some tents had fans, while others did not. I realized I had a fan but forgot to turn mine on. Oops. We stayed at the campsite for a second night, and the mistake was not repeated.

In the morning, we went on a nature walk to another rock art site. Along the way, Rick showed off his knowledge of the local flora and fauna. He pointed out milk sap plants, which applied to the skin, can be used as transparent bandages. Spiral pandanus trees have poison fruit and serrated edges, but their leaves are great for weaving. Turkey bush, a plant with purple flowers, can be burned as a natural mosquito repellent. Sandpaper bark trees have rough leaves for sanding. The kapop tree (no relation to Korean pop music!) produces cotton that can be used to stuff pillows.

​The most exciting bit of “bush tucker” (wild food) were the green ants. These ants build their tree nests by fusing leaves together, forming a hollow container. One had to simply knock at the front door, and they would come swarming out. Also know as lime ants, they have a large green abdomen with a citrus flavor. Consuming the ants wasn’t necessary; Rick encouraged us to lick them and put them back unharmed. The group approached then green ants with varying levels of enthusiasm! They were acidic but great.

​The rock art at Nanguluwurr was impressive. Like Ubirr, there were a few different styles, including x-ray animals, evil spirits, and "contact art" – for example, a European ship. The evil spirits were a little frightening, with long thin bodies and curved fingers. We were careful not to awaken their wrath.

​On the return walk, Rick encountered a fellow guide named Johnny Reid, who was hyped up as a local legend. They compared notes about park openings and closures, a jolly round of shop talk.

Later in the morning, we did a second and a third walk. The second was to a lookout point called Nawurlandja with a view of the valley and neighboring escarpment. The rock was a sharp conglomerate. Rick identified the bird call of the channel-billed cuckoo without even seeing it, further adding to his naturalist mystique.

​The third walk was along the edge of the Anbangbang Billabong, recently opened as the water level had receded. This billabong was the filming location for the crocodile attack scene in Crocodile Dundee. Rick dropped us off at the start and drove ahead with the van so we could hike it one-way. He warned us not to approach the ponds to avoid the “snapping handbags,” as he liked to call them. There were lots of wetland birds, including little ducklings camouflaged between the reeds, and small but gangly comb-crested jacamas. Someone thought they saw a croc in the distance. We had two pairs of binoculars among us. They were exchanged as everyone tried to determine whether it was a genuine crocodile, or a “log-odile.”

​On the way back to the campsite, we saw a trio of dancing brolgas – though no dances were on at the time! The brolgas are cranes, not to be confused with the jabirus which are storks. Rick speculated they were two parents with their juvenile, who hadn’t yet left the metaphorical nest.

After lunch and a little swimming at the campsite pool, we headed to the Bowali Visitor Center for some educational exhibits. From there, we got the green light to re-attempt Cahill’s Crossing. After the previous day’s disappointment, Rick had tempered our expectations. Though the fact he was willing to drive from Jabiru to the East Alligator River meant he was secretly confident.
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The water level was down to 0.6m, still a bit high, but the currents were much weaker today. We charged into the river, navigating unseen bumps, and looking out the windows into the murky brown water. It was a tense few seconds. When we reached dry land, the whole bus cheered. We had made it to Arnhem Land.

Arnhem Land is a huge region. 97,000 square kilometers – roughly the size of Iceland. It’s governed by the Yolngu people, the traditional owners, and special permits are required for entry. Rick placed magnetic labels on the side of the bus, showing we were affiliated with a local tour company.

I had gotten a preview of Arnhem Land during the scenic flight, and it was just as beautiful from the ground. Bright green grasses, pristine wetlands with jabirus and egrets, and enormous blocks of sandstone that appeared to be stacked by giants. Given the difficulty of the river crossing and lack of vehicles, there was a sense of wonder at simply being there.

We drove to the town of Gunbalanya to pick up a local guide. It was an eclectic scene, ranging from burning fires and dilapidated cars to a modern playground and a state-of-the-art solar panel farm. Many people were walking in bare feet, and many in dark clothing. Kids waved to us as we passed. There were a few cats and dogs roaming the streets, something I was unaccustomed to seeing in Australia. The entrances to the houses were decorated with painted handprints, not unlike the handprint signatures at the rock art sites.

We drove a little ways to a rock art site, where Shawn became our guest guide. He was a local artist that specialized in painting buffalo and crocodile skulls. He was decked out in Essendon Bombers shoes, a matching hat, and a pair of thick headphones. 

Shawn explained that the rock art was an evil spirit called Malawa, posted at the entrance to a cave as a warning against entering alone. He recounted a personal anecdote where he failed to heed a similar warning at another cave, and got lost inside for two days, barely escaping with his life. He mentioned that some of the rock paintings are repainted as they fade, though not all sites are maintained in this way.
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At a nearby rock formation, Shawn directed our attention to some spear fragments that were lodged in crevices high up in a corner of the overhang. This was the location of a spear throwing contest, where young men showed off their skills. We continued asking him random questions and learned that his wife had died of a heart attack, and these tours were a secondary source of income for him. On a more joyful note, he told us his son’s upcoming birthday would be celebrated with lots of dancing. 

​We returned Shawn to Gunbalanya and started the return journey to Jabiru. The water level at Cahill’s Crossing was finally low, and we could see the road’s appearance under more ideal conditions, which retrospectively heightened the adventure of our earlier crossing. Nearby, a local fisherman had just caught a barramundi, but was rather close to the water’s edge… living dangerously.

Dinner was a large wok of fried rice. We continued playing games with the same run-down set of RiteMate branded cards, with pictures of tradies in high-viz construction gear. Ben, Emma, Gill, and I tried to start a game of President, but realized that none of us played with the same set of rules. After a little negotiating, we ironed them out. I had only just learned the game on the Whitsundays cruise, and I was the weakest player. It’s an unforgiving game, where the loser of the previous round has a disadvantage going into the next round. It was still good fun though.

Day 3, and time to leave Jabiru. Many of the premier waterfalls in Kakadu National Park, like Jim Jim and Maguk, were still closed for crocodile surveys or construction. Instead, Rick took us to a secluded rockhole called Moline. It was very much off the beaten path; the access road was the bumpiest of the tour. However, it was charming and we had the place to ourselves (apart from a few rather large orb weaver spiders). It was fun to swim up to the waterfall and feel its pounding intensity on the shoulders.

​We continued driving, stopping for a photo op at the Kakadu sign on our way out of the park.

​The next rest stop was at the quirky Lazy Lizard Resort in Pine Creek, which had a few surprises including a reptile house and an enormous garage full of classic cars. The town of Pine Creek was founded when a construction team tasked with building the railroad between Alice Springs and Darwin struck gold and changed careers to become miners.

In the hottest part of the day, we reached Edith Falls, part of Nitmiluk National Park. Most of us braved the short hike to the upper falls, which was a bit grueling in the sun but definitely worthwhile. We got in our second swim of the day. The falls were powerful, and pushed us backwards as we swam towards them, like an aquatic treadmill. A few people ducked behind them but found it hard to breath with the rushing water. 

One rockpool at Edith Falls had a separate hole like a well. Other visitors told us there was an underwater passageway that connected the hole and the main lake. The water was dark and murky, and we couldn’t see the tunnel from above. Ben, the Canadian daredevil, decided to give it a try. He descended into the well and found the passageway but bumped his head on the way back up. The rest of us were relieved to see him surface again, but were shocked by the enormous red welt on his head! No one else decided to give it a try. (Ben was fine, and it healed surprisingly quickly.)

Soon we reached the town of Katherine and made a grocery stop. The town was smoky from controlled burns. The bottle shop was a focal point here. Rick warned us that the police officer at the door would ask us where we planned to consume our drinks, to discourage people from drinking in the park. I happened to enter when the police officer was talking to cars in the drive-thru line, but others from the group were asked and had to recall the name of the campsite.

On the bright side, the smokiness contributed to a lovely sunset. Our campsite even had a dedicated hilltop area for viewing it.

​Dinner was later that night, so we snacked on charcuterie and hummus to tide us over. Rick continued to do the heavy lifting on meal prep, but the rest of us pitched in with chopping veggies and the like. I sipped on a beer from Alice Springs Brewing. 

​Gill taught the kids a new card game, but the elder sister caught on faster and won every time, distressing the younger sister. We also played some more equal-footing games like Go Fish.

Later when it was just the four solo travelers playing cards, we found an enormous frog in the kitchen. Ben tried to scoop it up with a dustpan, but it hopped into the recycling! We eventually got it outside.

​The main activity on Day 4 was the Katherine Gorge cruise. We arrived early and browsed the visitor center. A beautiful blue-winged kookaburra was perched in the parking lot. They have a very different call from the laughing kookaburras, which we had heard at night but didn’t recognize.

On the walk down to the pier, Ben and I caught a glimpse of a brown-colored snake with a mouse in its mouth. Later we also glimpsed a black snake in the bushes.
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The river was not continuous, so the tour was actually two separate boat cruises with an intervening hike through a rocky part of the gorge.

​On the second boat, we went deeper into the gorge. The local Jawoyn people associate the river with the Rainbow Serpent, an important dreamtime creation being. ​​After an hour of going deeper into the gorge we turned around, The lighting was better, so the return journey was even more scenic.

Overall, the Katherine Gorge cruise was enjoyable, and worth paying the extra cost (the cruise wasn’t included in our tour package) but it was upstaged by Kakadu’s beauty.
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After that, we stopped for a swim at the Katherine Hot Springs. A bit of a misnomer, as the water temperature was more lukewarm than hot. Even though it was accessed by modern staircases and bridges, it retained a rainforest setting that was wild around the edges.

​Rick found us a picnic area in town, which involved a little suburban off-roading: driving the van over the curb and into the park. Our lunch operation was a well-oiled machine, with veggie chopping, arranging plates of toppings, dishwashing, and eating the leftover veggie scraps ("rabbit duty," my specialty). Rick even had foldup chairs stashed in a side compartment of the van, which were great for sitting on during lunch but a nightmare to squeeze back in.

The afternoon was the longest drive of the tour, going from Katherine to the edge of Litchfield, about 3 hours total. We made one stop at a cemetery in Adelaide River honoring victims of the Darwin bombings. Apparently it’s Australia’s only dedicated war cemetery. A sign at the entrance instructed us to close the gate to prevent the wild pigs from getting in. It was a peaceful and reflective place. Mobs of agile wallabies browsed in the bush outside the fenced perimeter, including one with a joey in the pouch.

​The campsite in Litchfield was another comfortable setup with screened tents. The tents had silly names like the Love Shack or the White House. It bordered a farm; a small car piled with farm dogs went zooming by, and the cows followed in its direction. We visited the swimming pool, which was heavily chlorinated in contrast to our freshwater rockhole swimming. We ended up playing a massive game of Marco Polo, even inviting another family to join the fun. For dinner, tacos were on the menu, and of course, more cards.

​The Litchfield campsite was also full of critters. There were geckos on the screened tents. While walking to the bathroom in the dark, the rustling of jumping frogs kept us on our toes. The bathroom itself was swarmed with bugs, including large katydids. A found the cutest little frog perched on the shower tap. Outside, the stars were also pretty. I was appreciative of this authentic Aussie campsite experience.

It was the final morning of the tour. Rick made bacon and eggs for breakfast. I helped load the eskys into the truck. While draining the liquid from the melted ice, Rick playfully splashed some on me. Once packed, we drove away through a manual gate, and pretended to leave Ben behind. The group was in a good mood.
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The first stop in Litchfield National Park was the termite mounds. There were two types to showcase here.

The Cathedral termite mounds were enormous, rounded columns. We had seen them in the distance over the past few days, and now took a closer look. Rick explained these termites eat grass, not wood, and stockpile their food to survive the wet season. There is a queen termite and king termite with dedicated chambers. New spinoff colonies are started by flying termites that launch from the top of the mound during a full moon. Apparently, paste made from termite mounds is a bush remedy for diarrhea. Rick told the story of an ill-fated school camping trip plagued by a stomach virus, where a guide finally put the termite medicine to the test. Though it tasted awful, it did the trick.

​Unique to this location were the Magnetic termite mounds, so named because they point north/south to minimize heating from the sun. They were large and flat, like tombstones with spikes.

​The main activity in Litchfield was a trail that connected the Buley rockhole to Florence falls, with multiple swimming spots along the way. The whole area was located on a raised plateau, meaning it’s not accessible to crocodiles during the wet season – phew. We scouted out each spot, sometimes stopping to swim, other times skipping to find a better place. One particularly good rockhole was deep enough for jumping in. It had several natural platforms of varying heights. I eventually braved the taller jump! Being with a supportive group really helped with the nerves when standing at the top looking down.

​The final swimming place was the popular Florence falls. The shallows at the entrance were crystal clear and populated with medium sized black fish. It was a much larger and deeper pool. We swam across to feel the thundering power of the falls.

We had our final lunch at the Tabletop Swamp. Like most of our lunches, it was a sandwich bar with veggies, meats, and cheese. Supplying food for a 5-day journey was no small feat, but we were all well nourished.

​Back at lower elevation, Wangi Falls were closed to swimming due to the ongoing crocodile survey. We saw a giant cage with bait right next to the viewing platform. The hike to the top of the falls was also closed, but given it was the hottest part of the afternoon, no one was too upset.

Finally we drove back to Darwin. Rick was able to drop people off at their hotels or the airport. I was dropped off at a motel near my Servas host’s house. After a warm farewell to the remaining group, I hiked off into the tropical forest of suburban Darwin.
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While I wouldn’t normally plan a vacation around swimming opportunities, the chance to relax in natural rockholes and campsite pools was a nice feature of the organized trip. Even more so with the camaraderie of a tight-knit and fun-loving group. The secluded Moline Falls, the sprawling Edith falls, and the jumping spots at Buley Falls each had a different charm. It goes to show there are many different ways to appreciate Australia’s natural beauty.

​The highlight of my visit to Top End Australia was a 5-day guided tour that visited three national parks – Kakadu, Nitmiluk, and Litchfield. I was particularly excited at the prospect of seeing wild crocs, waterfalls in red canyons, and ancient rock art.

While it’s possible to see these places by renting a car, I’m glad I had the tour for a few reasons. One was accessibility, like making the treacherous Cahill’s Crossing into Arnhem Land, where a special permit is needed. Another was seasonality, as many attractions were not yet open following the wet season. The guide was able to take us to the best places that were feasible given the conditions. The third and more practical reason was the lodging. As a solo traveler, I didn’t want to pay for an expensive hotel room inside the park. These were not towns with hostels. Nor did I want to rough a campsite alone. The tour offered a way to stay at economical campsites with safety in numbers.

Rick was our driver and guide, a seasoned professional with 27 years of experience. He was exceptional at feeding us the right amount of information at a digestible cadence, giving us a proactive heads-up on bathroom stops, meal timing, and swimming opportunities. He was effective as a nature guide, pointing out unique plant and animal species, as well as a cultural ambassador when explaining the rock art sites. He was a competent chef, leading the dinner preparations every night while creating opportunities for us to jump in and help. Rick also had a great sense of humor. One time, in the middle of a nature talk, he reached into the hollow of a tree and pretended to be pulled in, a hilarious bit of slapstick that caught us off guard! We were incredibly lucky to be on Rick’s tour.

​The group itself also had a good dynamic. There were 10 of us in total, 3 foreigners and 7 Australians, and a mix of all ages. It felt like being on a family road trip!

There was a couple from Wollongong, Emma and Andrew, with their two daughters in 3rd and 6th grade. Emma did an excellent job of making sure the kids were behaving on the long drives, while also encouraging them to participate and engage. It was uplifting to see good parenting with an emphasis on learning through travel. The kids were precocious and added a dose of energy to the whole trip.

An older couple from Perth, Eric and Chris, played the role of good-natured grandparents. Chris was hard of hearing, a side effect of COVID, and Eric would occasionally sit out an activity, but otherwise they kept up with the younger crowd just fine. Eric had an interesting life story, having lived in several countries like South Africa and India, had been a priest, and worked with homeless people in rough inner cities.

And finally that leaves the other solo travelers. Gill was a lawyer from Melbourne who was relaxed and personable. I learned she was a fellow theater kid and also lived in Carlton. Emma (yes there were two Emmas in the group!) was a French working holidaymaker who had been staying with a family friend in rural NSW. She seemed a bit hesitant at times, but clearly had the self-confidence to embark on this adventure. Emma was full of hilarious French interjections, especially when playing cards. ​Ben was a jack-of-all-trades from Canada, who had been driving a tractor for his working holiday in Queensland. Soon he would be returning home to work at the Calgary stampede. Ben was extremely friendly and the principal daredevil of the group, seeking out rocks to jump off on all our swimming stops.

The bus was a hefty 4WD, smaller than the bus on Fraser Island, but still with empty seats. The entrance had a fold-down step and a water cooler, a lifeline in the Top End’s tropical weather. The back had a tiny luggage compartment and trunk, both of which were tightly packed. The main cargo was a pair of enormous blue eskys, which kept our food ingredients cold.

​The first day was totally jam-packed with memorable moments. Pickup was 6:30am in downtown Darwin. We briefly stopped in Humpty Doo for supplies, then headed to the Mary River for a billabong cruise. The wildlife spotting began en route. We saw around 15 types of animals in the first few hours alone. For example, water buffalo which are an introduced species that wreak havoc on the fragile wetlands. The most common macropods in the region are called Agile Wallabies, and they were indeed agile when scattering into the bush as we drove past.

​The cruise took place at the Corroborree Billabong. A billabong is a cutoff bend of the river, also known as an oxbow lake. It was teeming with mangroves, pandanus trees, water lilies, and birds. The water lily flowers extended into the distance as far as the eye could see, a stunning backdrop. The floating lily pads were hydrophobic, with beads of water resting on top.

​The Top End has two main seasons – the wet season, roughly November to April, and the dry season, roughly May to October. I visited at the very end of May, which was still early in the dry season. The water levels at the billabong were still high, but in a few weeks, many ponds would be gone.

The most striking bird was the jabiru (JAB-a-roo), Australia’s only species of stork. The tall and stately jabirus had a dark blue neck. When taking flight, their white wings had a prominent black stripe. Fun fact, female jabirus have yellow eyes, while males have black eyes. Other birds included egrets, herons, ibises, cormorants, magpie geese, and snake-necked darters.

​Of course, we were all hoping to see crocodiles – and we saw three! They were a mix of freshwater and saltwater crocs, with the saltwater crocs being larger. One “saltie” was resting in the grass with its yellow mouth wide open, apparently for ventilation. Another was floating in the shallows, with jabirus walking around it. The driver advanced the boat until it bumped into the edge of the water, just a few meters from the croc! It smiled for our photos.

​As we drove into Kakadu National Park, we saw dozens of controlled burns in progress. Late May is the beginning of the dry season, and the ideal time for these fires. Rick explained that a proper controlled burn would clear the understory without charring the tree trunks. The most striking thing about these controlled burns was the lack of people around them. I always assumed that controlled burns were closely monitored, but we didn’t see a single person near any of them. However, the pace of the flames seemed reasonably slow. Only one or two burns looked like they were picking up, and Rick said they would be watched more closely.

​Above these fires circled numerous whistling kites, hunting for mice or other smoked-out prey. Nicknamed “firebirds,” the kites sometimes carry burning twigs to start new fires, and apparently are the main cause of uncontrolled burns in the park. Driving through the charred bush with circling kites was beautiful in a way that was hard to describe. It was a front row seat to the area’s dynamic landscape, but also a bit ominous to be surrounded by fire-wielding raptors.

​We arrived at our campsite in the town of Jabiru, named after the storks we had just seen. I was expecting to be sleeping in a “bush swag,” a single person tent on the ground. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised to be staying in screened cabins. There were enough for us to have individual rooms. The cabins had electrical outlets for charging, and fans to cope with the hot nighttime temperatures. One night before going to bed, I checked the weather, and it was 83 F with 70% humidity. The humidity often increased at night, counteracting the dropping temperature. So we didn’t get the best quality of sleep, but it was much better than a bush swag.

​The intended activity for the afternoon was crossing the East Alligator River to meet with a local guide in Arnhem Land. However, when we reached Cahill’s Crossing, the conditions were unfavorable. On a good day, it’s still submerged underwater and surrounded by crocodile-infested waters. This was a bad day, with rapids too. I thought of my recent experience on Fraser Island, when the bus got stuck in the sand and we had to jump out. Crocs outside the bus seemed way scarier than dingoes. Thankfully Rick paused to assess.

​Cahill’s Crossing is close enough to the ocean that water level and current change throughout the day. When we arrived it was 0.7m deep (Rick said 0.5m was comfortable) and the water was moving rapidly. Rick mulled over the situation, while we waited at the viewing platform. Our tour was one of few that included Arnhem Land in the itinerary; most people just visit the platform to soak in the scene and watch other vehicles make the crossing. Anticipation was in the air. The tourists waited for someone to cross. The fisherman along the river waited for something to bite. And the crocs waited for someone to make a mistake…

Rick smartly decided not to attempt the crossing. The itinerary left the possibility of coming back the next day. Instead, we visited Ubirr, a famous rock art site and panoramic lookout that I was actually hoping to see anyways.
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The rock art at Ubirr was quite stunning. The paintings spanned many eras of history, from 20,000 years ago to European contact. Some paintings were of the “x-ray style,” which depicts animals in cross-section with internal organs. X-ray animals included barramundi, goannas, turtles, and wallabies. Other paintings were stick figures, like an Aboriginal fisherman or a European depicted with their hands in their pockets.

Some paintings were accompanied by the silhouette of a handprint, made by spitting ochre, as the artist’s signature. The ochre paints are able to sink into the porous sandstone 2-7mm, so even as the rock erodes, the paintings persist. Their sheltered location also helped. To further prevent rainwater damage, there was a line of silicone installed underneath the overhang, which causes the water droplets to divert.

A handful of paintings were improbably located on the undersides of rocky overhangs, several stories above. This included one of the Mimi spirits (from local folklore) and a Tasmanian tiger, now extinct in the area.

Another art location was an ancient classroom, with paintings of morality stories for children. The stories featured young people who disobeyed tribal norms, like eating a certain animal before they were properly initiated into adulthood, that escalate into inter-tribal warfare as a cautionary tale.
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The views from the top of Ubirr were also impressive, with the vast floodplains to one side and the rocky escarpment in the other direction. Not bad for a last-minute substitution.

​But the day wasn’t over yet! We were given the option to book an extra activity – a scenic flight over Kakadu, from the Jabiru airport. I had skipped scenic flights in several other places on the trip, waiting for the right moment, and here it was. My commercial flights to/from Darwin were both at night, so I hadn’t seen the Top End from above. I was also hoping to see some of the waterfalls that were currently closed for road access (though it turned out these were farther south in the park, outside of the flight path). At a price of $172 USD for a one-hour session, it also seemed within reach.

Seven of us said yes to the flight – the family from Wollongong, myself, Emma, and Ben. We were under the impression one plane would fit all 7 of us, but we actually got split into two planes. In mine, it was just the pilot and three passengers. I’d never been in a small plane before, and I appreciated that the wing was above the window, offered unobstructed views of the landscape. We wore headsets and could hear the chatter with air traffic control. Overall, it was very comfortable, with more leg room than Jetstar. The pilot described the features of the landscape with good detail and enthusiasm.

The scenery was jaw-dropping from start to finish. It was tricky to balance the pure amazement with taking photos/videos, but this was an excellent problem to have.
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Jabiru is a mining town, and the first thing we saw was the giant uranium mine. This area of Kakadu has high amounts of uranium, arsenic, mercury, and lead. The Aboriginal people of the area, the Jawoyn, have long called it “Sickness Country” – possibly due to these dangerous minerals causing illness. Mining operations pre-dated the founding of the national park, so when Kakadu was established in 1979, the mining land was excepted. Nowadays it’s winding down operations, but it still stuck out like an eyesore.

​Flying over Stone Country was like being in the establishing shot of a nature documentary. Beyond the scenic cliffs of the escarpment lay a vast metropolis of sandstone, carved into grids and cast with golden light. I glimpsed a small waterfall, almost hidden in the shadows. Even as we flew farther and farther across the Arnhem Plateau, the rocks still had no end in sight. I knew Kakadu was big, but seeing it first-hand was hard to comprehend.

​Eventually we turned around and started following the East Alligator River downstream into the floodplains. The river was lined with thick sandbars, all from eroded sandstone that washed downstream. 

​We flew over Arnhem Land, catching a glimpse of the green plains that we were denied earlier at Cahill’s Crossing. The pilot pointed out a few Aboriginal towns. During the wet season, both the river crossing and the airstrips are flooded, so Arnhem Land is completely cutoff from the outside world.

​The flight continued over the Magela Floodplain, an immense region of protected wetland. We were close enough to see details like flocks of white egrets and clusters of lily pads. The sunset was muffled by the clouds, but still amplified the beauty of the billabongs.

​Before returning to the airport, the pilot did a lap around the town of Jabiru to show off its most famous building – the Mercure Crocodile Hotel – shaped like a giant crocodile. He also pointed out a manmade lake, intended as a swimming spot for the miners. They stopped using it when they realized it can be accessed by crocodiles during the wet season.

​Back at camp, we had a sausage and steak dinner in the kitchen tent, and played card games, including Go Fish and a silly one called Taco/Hat/Cake/Gift/Pizza. After the kids went to bed, the adults continued chatting over beers. There was a large school group at the adjacent campsite, but they were quieting down. On the walk to the bathroom, I made sure to stop and admire the stars. What an unforgettable day.

To end, here's some GoPro footage from the scenic flight, set to the only music that's suitable -- King Stingray's "Sweet Arnhem Land."

​Darwin is the only major city on Australia’s northern coast. Though “major” is relative! With a population of only 148,000, this capital of the Northern Territory felt spacious and nonchalant compared to the big cities on the east coast. With its blend of a tropical climate, Asian and Aboriginal influences, and rugged outback character, it felt like a cultural anomaly shaped by geography. As my guidebook put it, Darwin is “closer to Bali than Bondi.”

​Visiting Darwin was my last major domestic trip within Australia, and my seventh capital city, completing the whole set. I decided to experience it through two different lenses. The first three nights, I stayed at a backpacker hostel to get a taste of the city center. The last two nights, I stayed with a Servas host in a quieter suburb to soak in the local life. In between, I went on a 5-day guided tour to the national parks. This blog post is just on the first part of my Darwin visit.

Arriving there just after midnight, I stepped off the plane and called an Uber. I was traveling light, with no checked bags, no laptop, and no clothing heavier than a running jacket. My driver was an immigrant from Melbourne with a hyper-relaxed demeanor who welcomed me aboard. I learned he was an accountant moonlighting as an Uber driver on weekends. He loved Darwin’s opportunities for professional advancement and lack of traffic.

He dropped me off on bustling Mitchell Street, party central on a Saturday night. Darwin has a reputation for its party scene, and well, here I was. The hostel entrance was squeezed in next to an Irish bar called Shenanigan’s and was directly opposite a zoo called Crocasaurus Cove. During the daytime, I could see into the crocodile tank from the hostel lobby. Welcome to Darwin, where you can party with the crocs!

​The hostel was named the Youth Shack, so my expectations were pretty low. It actually wasn’t too bad, with a pool, patio, strong AC, and a study room with computers. The most striking thing was the people. Even wearing shorts and a t-shirt, I felt overdressed. All of the men I encountered in the hallway were shirtless and had multiple tattoos.

​The three other people in my dorm were all “long termers,” staying at the Youth Shack while pursuing working holidays in manufacturing or farmwork, many in their second year in Australia. I gathered this trend extended to the rest of the hostel, as  there were piles of work boots in the hall, a prominent job desk in the lobby, and the many high-viz uniforms at breakfast. Far gone was the Queensland backpacker scene, with its fresh arrivals and gender balance.

​One of my roommates was an Irishman with a “slainte” tattoo behind his ear, who arrived on the same day as me. He interviewed for a job in concrete formwork and started right away. Another roommate was a muscular Italian with a buzz cut and several tattoos – a cursive “Made in Italy” and an AK-47 on his chest, a giant cross on his back. He had to change to a different room, and the original room was miraculously decluttered.

After a good night’s sleep, I set out for my first day of sightseeing. I restocked on snacks at the local Wooly’s, which had a nice-looking sushi selection for a chain store. The main pedestrian street was a bit dingy and virtually deserted, a sign that peak season was yet to come. I reached the edge of the CBD, where a bridge and an elevator took me down to the waterfront precinct. It was modern and polished. There were restaurants with lots of outdoor seating, an artificial wave pool, and a convention center. I continued walking out to the wharf, pacing myself as I was no longer in the protection of the shade.

Ten weeks after Pearl Harbor, the same Japanese fleet descended on the Darwin Harbor in a destructive set of attacks that sunk 11 vessels and killed 250 people. One vessel, the MV Neptuna, exploded while docked at Stokes Hill wharf where the museum is now located. The museum brought this cataclysmic scene to life in several ways. There were VR headsets that put you alongside soldiers on the wharf or a fighter jet pilot, a vibrating platform that mimicked the rumble of the bombs, and a hologram movie theater with detailed first-hand accounts.

The Flying Doctor part of the museum was similarly advanced. A hologram of John Flynn, the founder of the Flying Doctor Service, explained the progression in delivering healthcare to remote areas in Australia. Before modern technology, pedal-powered radios were used to call for help. Later, a simple numbered grid of the body was developed for communicating symptoms. Nowadays, the fleet travels 27 million kilometers every year, providing a variety of preventive and emergency services.
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The museum had a VR headset that allowed you to be inside the plane watching a nurse defibrillate a patient while communicating with the pilot about their arrival in Adelaide. There was also a retired plane you could enter – I hopped in the cockpit for fun. It was fascinating to think about treating patients on a moving plane as an extreme case for medical devices.

​On the walk back to the hostel, I admired some street art and stopped for a poke bowl at Fat Tuna. I picked out an interesting soda that I thought was local to Darwin, but the address on the label was a few blocks from my apartment in Carlton… oops!

​In the late afternoon, I walked to the Mindil Beach Sunset Market. There were lots of entertaining wares, from digeridoos to taxidermy cane toads. A booth selling cattle whips had a cordoned-off area where they would teach people how to use them.  There were Thai massage booths and a live folk band playing under the banner of Crocodile Country. I sampled a few types of beef jerky, and ultimately bought a pack from Bogan Biltong – “bogan” being an Aussie term for a rough person, and “biltong” being a South African style of jerky.

​Being an adventurous eater, I also took advantage of the Mindil Market’s incredible food selection. Dinner was a crocodile burger with mango and chili sauce, one of the better exotic meats out there. ​​Dessert was a red bean milkshake – yum!

Seeing a sunset from Mindil Beach is considered a quintessential Darwin experience, and naturally it was a bit crowded. The sunset that night was divine, with clouds stretching into the distance that reflected the changing colors. As the sun dipped into the Timor Sea, its enormous orange orb was eclipsed with the silhouettes of boats. The prettiest part was when the sky faded to violet, and the people by the water became silhouettes too.

​The next morning, I walked to Aquascene for the high tide fish feeding. Another one of Darwin’s long-standing tourist destinations, this was a unique chance to feed hordes of wild fish with… bread? The admission included access to tubs of sliced bread that we could break down and toss into the water or hand feed to the fish. After my basic breakfast, I was tempted to steal a bite too.

​The most common fish were the diamond-scaled mullet, which looked a bit like koi, and milkfish with pointy tailfins that frequently breached the water. Less common were the bat fish, with large flat bodies, and the mangrove jack, a red carnivorous fish with an underbite. The swarm was quite a sight! ​A guide narrated the whole experience, pointing out when the rarer types made an appearance, and handing out fish scraps so we could feed the carnivores.

​Kids and adults alike were having a great time. Among the modest crowd were a pair of monks in orange robes. There was also a couple from Perth, who were visiting a relative in Darwin that worked as a professional crocodile wrangler. I ended up staying to the end of the 2-hour feeding session.

Afterwards, I had a working afternoon at the hostel’s study room, sorting out some flight issues. Once that was buttoned up, I headed across the street to meet the neighbors at Crocasaurus Cove.
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The main saltwater crocodile exhibits were enthralling. I couldn’t believe how enormous and indestructible they looked! They could swim through the water so gracefully, and effortlessly sink to the bottom. At the same time, their gnarly teeth and jagged dorsal spines made them genuinely frightening.

​The crocodile facts posted on the walls added to their intrigue. “Crocodile” comes from the Greek word “krokodeilos” meaning “pebble worm.” It’s estimated there are 140,000 saltwater crocs in Australia, with 60% in the Northern Territory. They can spend up to 3 hours underwater and have a special third eyelid. Crocs have a sixth sense – the ability to detect small pressure changes in the water, and therefore the direction of potential prey. They even have a special heart valve that doesn’t exist in any other animal, which redirects blood flow away from the lungs while diving.

​One of the famous attractions at Crocasaurus Cove is the “Cage of Death,” an immersive experience where brave souls in a transparent tube are lowered into the croc exhibit. I got to see this cage in action from a comfortable distance as an outside observer. The keepers lowered a piece of meat on a string so the croc would show off its hunting skills at point blank. Wendell the croc was a little slow to strike, but the clapperboard smack of his closing jaws still made a powerful sound. There was a similar “crocodile fishing” experience in the juvenile croc tank. It was a little too much like baiting a circus animal for my taste. In the rivers outside of Darwin, “jumping crocodile” cruises are unfortunately a popular tourist draw.

​Some of the other noteworthy crocs included Burt, who starred in Crocodile Dundee and is now over 80 years old. There was also a breeding pair named William and Kate, after the royal couple. They nuzzled underwater and looked extremely happy together.

​The Cove had more than just crocs – I attended a talk by the fish aquarium, which had freshwater whiprays and adorable pig-nosed turtles. There was also a talk in the reptile house, where I got to hold a Hosmer’s skink and a Children’s python. Note: this python is not recommended for children, but rather is named after a guy named Children. There were tons of beautiful snakes and goannas, including one that leaped onto a hanging lightbulb and pulled it down to the ground in a daring escape attempt.

That night, ​I watched the sunset from a smaller, more secluded beach that was closer to the hostel. I was looking forward to seeing my friend Morgan, the Welsh guy I met in the Grampians, as he was in Darwin too. Unfortunately, he flaked on me. I consoled myself with fresh Thai street noodles.

​So far, Darwin was hitting all the right notes – tasty food, intriguing history, amazing animals, and spectacular sunsets. Stay tuned for more Top End adventures.