Grace's Great Voyage Down Under, Week 8: the penultimate.

January 12, 2018

Grace's Great Voyage Down Under, Week 8: the penultimate.

In case you missed my posts so far in this series, I'll reiterate the key point I cannot seem to say often enough: I am not becoming a legit travel blogger.

I’ve just decided to write the odd post about my trips to various Other Places – but not necessarily the way a seasoned traveller and blogger might. I’m going to write about specific things, moments; some will exist in a big compilation post while others may stand alone. For instance, if I had an especially magical dinner date, or discovered a secret spot nobody had told me about, or even just had a conversation with a native (of which I have already had many, in Australia!), then that might exist in its own post.

** I'm starting to feel extra good about writing these posts, because recently all my family keep bringing up our previous trips to this country, sharing the many most wonderful memories; adventures to this place and that, dinners or coffee dates here, here and here, friends we never get to see any more...and I'm getting quite panicked because I only remember maybe 1/3 of the things they mention. My memory isn't what it once was (wonder why), and being super aware and reluctantly accepting of that sad fact these days means I've had to also consider that someday I may be a little blurry when recalling this trip. But I'll always have these posts. **

Walking onto the beach after dark, stumbling slightly on the deep grooves in the sand where the rain's fallen today; my tummy's full of vegan Mexican grub, my head is swimming from the sangria. I rush to the water's edge and watch the waves break, only the white bubbling visible, then they soak my toes and push sand up my legs. I marvel for a moment at how this continues, all night long. The waves, and the sand. There's nobody else here, now. But tomorrow, it'll be swarming with sun-seekers again. Until then, it doesn't switch off.

The excitement I am filled with when I remember 'Lovesick' series 3 is available on Netflix is...worrying. (4 episodes in, my review thus far: more drama than comedy, but still lovely.)

Touching the enormous, smooth hunk of Clear Quartz at Crystal Castle, Queensland.

As the two of us drive along the soulless, flat multi-lane roads to the bottle-o in Miami, in search of more whisky and wine, I'm talking about some kind of nonsense when Dad abruptly raises a finger and says 'I've just had a brilliant idea.'

Five minutes later, we're in the subtly signed rum and whisk(e)y bar we've heard about from a reliable source and been meaning to go to for weeks.

There's a moment, every time, when I see koalas munching on leaves, snuggling into each other and swinging freely from branch to branch...I can't believe they're real. Like, actually right there, a few feet away.

We run through the park, from one sheltered spot to another, in and out of enclosures, as the rain pours down - it's when we're standing in the second gift shop you must go through to exit the sanctuary that I realise I'm actually cold, for the first time in 7 weeks, and I'm soaking wet. My arms are shining and my hair is dripping, stuck in its little bun. The air is stinking damp. And for the first time, I am reminded of home.

I did the thing.

The rainbow lorikeets are massing above our heads as we stand in the street; shrieking, squawking, telling each other about their days after being apart for hours, reconvening in the trees. I've had 3 Happy Hour wines, and so I'm twirling energetically as I look up into the blue sky and listen to the birds. Soon I'm shaking off my flip flops, dropping them on a bench and running down the beach to get my feet in the sea. The waves come right up and break, splashing me right up my legs and under my skirt, wetting my knickers - I cannot stop laughing.

Seeing a massive lit up Christmas tree, slightly blurry just along the dark beach on this hot night, is the strangest thing I've seen so far this year.