Australia's West Coast: our trip to Perth and the Margaret River

Before I give my verdict on Western Australia, this continent's vast golden state, I'll provide a bit of background to put it in perspective.

• Perth, WA's capital, is considered the world's most isolated city. Perth is closer to Singapore than it is to Sydney (4.5 hours by plane)!
• Western Australia comprises one third the Australian continent, but only 10% of its population, a mere 2.2 million people.
• 36% of Western Australia is covered by sheep stations. I didn't do the research, but surely some of these are bigger than small European countries.

You get the idea; WA is remote. And though Perth didn't knock our socks off, the Margaret River area with its rolling acres of vineyards and gorgeous beaches, really did. We loved it and I know you would, too. As long as you love wineries. Or beaches. If you don't like either of those, you're really missing out! Seriously, I felt I could have enjoyed a whole week or two in the region, and without recapping the whole trip, here's why.

The Foodie/Yuppie Scene

For some crazy reason I thought that once we got out of glamorous Sydney, prices for food and accommodations would go down. Silly me. That isn't the case at all, but I think I can sort of understand why. I've just been harping on about how remote it is; well, distance is one factor that can increase food prices. More importantly, though, WA is home to some really classy dining establishments: restaurants run by thoughtful chefs who care about serving fresh, local ingredients.

Mickey and I spent our first evening in Margaret River dining at Wino's, a restaurant and bar with an award-winning wine list and a tapas-style menu. The herby hand-cut chips were a treat, but we had to pass on the peach creme brulee... next time. We also enjoyed lunch at Wise, the only one of the region's wineries with an ocean view, and dinner at Must, arguably Margaret River's best restaurant. Our hosts at Llewellin's Guest House, Jo and James, hooked us up with free pate because they know the owners of the restaurant.

Speaking of which, Llewellin's deserves a lot of the credit for us falling in love with Margaret River. Jo and James have decorated the rooms beautifully, made excellent recommendations and took extraordinarily good care of us. James even made gluten free chocolate and pistachio scones for me on our last day!

Lighthouse Tour 2010

Mickey and I never used to give a lot of thought to lighthouses, but on this trip we found ourselves visiting two: one at Cape Naturaliste and another at Cape Leeuwin, the point at which the Southern and Indian Oceans meet. Both offered wildly expensive tours ($15, dude, it's picturesque, but it's a lighthouse), but we did pay a smaller fee to walk around the lighthouses and poke around their tiny museums. I was fascinated by the lives of the lighthouse workers in the days before lighthouse maintenance was automated. They had to tend to the thing every hour, worked in shifts and almost never took a holiday.

Mickey and I try to pick up a Christmas ornament from every destination we visit. The natural choice would have been a tasteful little lighthouse, and we found dozens of lighthouse magnets, key chains, pencils, etc. but alas, no ornaments. We instead took home a cow figurine decorated in a mardis gras style. The international traveling cow parade, featuring life-sized cows decorated by local artists, had reached Margaret River so we took pictures with cows in front of almost every winery.


The Wildlife

Cape Naturaliste is even more worth a visit in the months of June - November, aka whale season. This is the time of year when pods of humpback, right and even blue whales migrate north to calve in warmer waters. And apparently you can see them right from the coast! Though I kept my eyes peeled when Mickey and I stood at Whale Point, we didn't spot any of plumes of water and air bursting from blowholes, only miles of white caps on the glimmering sea. Likewise, we struck out when we visited Penguin Island off Rockingham (only saw penguins in the sanctuary) and failed to see any dolphins in Bunbury.

Still, you can supposedly see all these animals in the wilds of WA! After reading a particularly interesting wine label when back in Sydney, we learned that we also missed the blue-ringed octopus, a little creature possessing enough sting to kill two soccer teams we learned. Ignorance was indeed bliss, because if we had known about it, we might never have dipped our toes in the Indian Ocean.

Though we struck out with whales, dolphins and penguins, we were lucky enough to see an enormous sting ray at the gorgeous Hamlin Bay. Fishermen use fish heads to lure these massive creatures (1 meter across!) close to shore not to catch, but to amuse kids and tourists like us. We were also delighted by our unexpected lorikeet spotting outside Perth. Lorikeets usually congregate in groups of two to three, but when the sun set over Cottesloe Beach, thousands flew from north, south and east to descend on a row of trees lining the shore. The noise was deafening.

The Caves

Most of the wineries in the Margaret River region are located just off Caves Road, so named because the region has over one hundred limestone caves! Only a dozen or so are open to the public and the guidebook advised us to visit Jewel Cave if we were to tour only one. We followed that sage advice and were thoroughly impressed with Jewel Cave.

I especially loved the unapologetically unscientific manner in which the mysteries of the cave were explained by our tour guide. After introducing himself, the guide said something like, "well, this cave is pretty damn good." Right, this guy was speaking my language! In the early part of the twentieth century, an adventurous gentleman discovered the cave when he noticed gusts of air coming up from the ground. He bravely explored it in the days before proper belaying and safety equipment: using ropes and candles. Interestingly enough, knowledge of the cave's location died with this man and it wasn't rediscovered until decades later. In the late 1960s, they added platforms and staircases and opened Jewel Cave to the public.

You could then navigate the cave via a raft because a couple meters of water pooled at the bottom. Then, in the 1970s, the water started to disappear by a couple inches each year our guide explained. He went on to say that caves go through wet and dry cycles (in fact, the cave up the road was in a wet cycle at the moment), but that no one really knows why the water disappeared. What?! Really? I honestly believe that the managers of Jewel Cave could invite a cave scientist to study the cave and get some real answers, but they just can't be bothered. 'Eh, we like our own stories,' I imagine them saying.

Instead of naming the Jewel Cave's five platforms after the different geological eras during which they were formed or employing another scientific method, they clearly subscribe to the 'nothing fancy' school of nomenclature. "You see that feature over there that resembles a pipe organ? That's why we call this the organ platform. You see how that kind of looks like broccoli and cauliflower? Well, we call this the vegetable platform." Surely, you can guess why it's called Jewel Cave? That's right, there's a feature that reminded someone of a jewel case. Who thought I'd learn so much about the Western Australian mentality by visiting a cave?

The Sunsets

I don't consider myself sunset deprived; I'm from the LA area where air pollution creates some of the most vivid sunsets you'll ever see. Still, it was a treat to watch the sunset over the ocean, a phenomenon that Sydney just can't experience.  Mickey played around with the settings on his camera to capture the beauty. Can you see why we didn't want to leave?

Jennie's Hens' Night 2010: She who has the biggest boobs, has the most fun

Our dear friends Thor and Jennie are getting married in June on a small island in Norway. Though we, their Sydney friends, adore them, a trip across the globe just isn't feasible (especially not with this volcanic ash business). So, of course we had to send them off with really spectacular Bucks' and Hens' parties.

I initially envisioned a marathon day of girly fun: spa treatments followed by cocktails, dinner out and an old school sleepover at a hotel suite with junk food, truth or dare and bad movies. As delicious as that would have been, we simply couldn't ask Jennie's friends to fork over hundreds of dollars for a Hens' Night. My more budget-friendly agenda went as follows: optional cocktail making class at Cruise Bar in the rocks, dinner at a dosa restaurant in Darlinghurst followed by games at my house and finally dancing at the Retro.

About two weeks prior to the party I read a brief interview with Sofia Vergara in People magazine. "Who has more fun?" People asked, "blondes or brunettes?" She gave the following playful answer that was to become the catchphrase of the night: "who cares?! It's the one with the biggest boobs that has the most fun." I found this silly quote particularly appropriate and printed it on the buttons I custom-made for the party.

Unfortunately, it was hard to notice these buttons because of the other Hens' Night accessory I forced on the girls: cheap feather boas in a rainbow of different colors. Purchased at the discount store for $4 a pop, these feather boas were itchy, but made for some fun photos. Upon bestowing each guest with a boa, I made no promises about the feathers not dyeing one's skin or clothes, but fortunately the only thing the boas shed was feathers. Indeed, our gaggle of girls was like Hansel and Gretel with their trail of breadcrumbs; we could trace our path backward by following the feathers.

The cocktail making class was excellent considering we didn't actually get to mix any cocktails. There were rules preventing us from getting behind the bar so the master bartender basically demonstrated technique while we drank. At the end we decided that 'cocktail appreciation' would be a more accurate title for the class. Still, we learned a few new tricks. The instructor explained the importance of using the right ingredients and how to spot a good bartender. He also explained the difference between Scotch and Bourbon (there is none, really, both are whiskeys, but created in certain styles named for their regions of production) and revealed that Southern Comfort is not whiskey at all, but merely a peach liqueur marketed as a whiskey. His catchphrase, though almost nonsensical, could also have been printed on a Bucks'/Hens' button: "never turn your back on alcohol."

As we were finishing up, we were delighted to see Shannon pop in with her newborn baby James. I'm not sure that he enjoyed the smell of alcohol on our breath while we tipsily cooed over him, but he was a pretty good sport about the whole thing. He patiently endured our amateur photo shoot near the bridge and Opera House until we bid his mommy goodnight.

We hopped in some cabs and made it to Malabar on time for our 7pm reservation. We devoured dosas and samosas while the other guests arrived. Jennie was pleasantly surprised to see each new face because the RSVPs were mostly unknown to her. Malabar did a brilliant job of accommodating our vegetarian and glutard diets so I was pleased in the end with this choice of restaurant. By Sydney standards it was pretty affordable and we all managed to chip in to the total bill without awkwardness and consulting iPhone apps. Someone commented that that never happens when we go out with the boys. 

The girls wandered over to Wow Cow (fro yo) and Messina (gelato) for dessert while I made a beeline for my apartment. I strung up a clothesline full of panties for a racy guessing game. Each guest bought a pair and Jennie had to guess who brought which one. If she guessed correctly, she could take them off the line, if she guessed incorrectly, she took a shot of Polish vodka. After a couple minutes of this game we learned two things: 1. Jennie believed (erroneously) that her American friends are more inclined to purchase cow-themed underwear and 2. Jennie has a mind-bogglingly high tolerance for vodka. She is from northern England after all.

We followed that with a Mr and Mrs Quiz (so sweet) and a Hen-friendly version of Pin the Tail on the Donkey: Plant a Smooch on Johnny. We took turns applying harlot red drugstore lipstick, being blindfolded and spun in ten agonizing circles before fumbling toward the wall and attempting to leave a lip print as close as possible to Johnny's own perfect pout. After taking my turn, my friends asked if I always go in for a kiss chin-first; I laughed so hard.

A couple of bellinis later, those among us with children or early mornings made tracks for home, while the energized other eight jumped in two cabs and headed for the Retro. Jennie initially vetoed the Retro idea; Michael Scott-esque trivia host "Blades" (who we see every Tuesday, but who also deejays at the Retro) was to have no part in her wedding celebrations. Who could blame her? She eventually caved to peer pressure, though, because the rest of us had an itch to go dancing. And we weren't the only hens out for a night on the town. No, Jennie was one of maybe a dozen brides to be celebrating with girlfriends that night.

Still, we had a great time sweatin' to Whitney Houston and oldies mash-ups. Jennie good-naturedly let us drag her to the dance floor where Blades is king and snap a photo of the two of them in the deejay booth. A good time was had by all and Jennie walked away with new undies so I can't complain.

Now the Bucks' Night that Mickey organized for Jennie's other half Thor, well, that's another story.

Easter in Mudgee

Believe it or not, Australia is in some ways more Christian than even the US is. Or, at least it maintains some traditions relating to the national holiday calendar that the American separation of church and state policy left by the wayside. In other words, Easter is a four day weekend in Australia; woo hoo! But because everyone has a lovely long weekend off (or more if you're on a school schedule), hotel rates are sky high; boo!

So, we replaced our grand plans to rent a fashionable beach house with more modest plans to spend the weekend in Mudgee, a wine-producing region of country New South Wales, four hours drive northwest of Sydney. (Quite a step down if you compare sand and surf to a town whose name starts with M-U-D). No, seriously there was nothing muddy about Mudgee. The weather was warm and clear and our accommodations at Wildwood Guesthouse were comfortable and relaxing.

Mike, Laura, Jennie, Mickey and I piled into Chris and Jess' car for the mostly traffic-free journey. We took a delightful lunch break at the Secret Creek Cafe in Lithgow, almost certainly superior to the "workie's club" in town, an RSL-type establishment offering "family food" (shudder). In addition to the restaurant, the Secret Creek property also includes a small, native animal sanctuary.

We were seated at a table on the porch and were enjoying watching a trio of brightly colored rosellas flit from tree to tree when the silence was suddenly shattered by a chorus of animal howls. It was probably just a couple of dingos and some dogs, but the way the yelps echoed in the small valley made it sound like a whole pack surrounded the restaurant. Yikes. Among those not joining in the chorus were a pair of emus called Dumb and Dumber. When I saw Dumb look through the window of the cabin where their food is kept while Dumber made a break for the open door, I wondered how apt their names really were. We met a small marsupial named Randy on our way back to the parking lot. The keeper explained that Randy was a wallaroo, neither wallaby nor kangaroo, but an entirely different species. When we started asking more questions about this species we had never heard of before, he backtracked, "yeah, it's like a kangaroo and a wallaby." Hmmm...

Because Laura was eager to see an Australian Big Thing, we stopped at the Big Miner's Lantern to snap a few photos before continuing on to Mudgee. We made our first wine tasting stop at Logan, a fantastically situated winery serving okay wine disguised by great labels.

We relied on Google Maps to guide us to Wildwood and had a good laugh when, 1.8kms down a dirt road in the middle of the bush, the friendly navigation voice stated "you have arrived at your destination." Oops. Fortunately, a woman who had more reason to be on that dirt road explained how to get to Wildwood. In a few short minutes, we arrived at our destination for real: a beautiful property with gum trees, ponds, birds and roos. Our little party rented three of the B&B's four rooms so we pretty much had the run of the place. Wildwood offers cozy beds and a healthy dose of peace and quiet, but no TV and only spotty internet reception so we were forced to entertain ourselves the old fashioned way: board games and actual conversation. I can't complain; I thoroughly enjoyed revisiting Pictionary and learning Pass the Pigs.

I ordinarily would have been a mess after two days of wine tasting, but thankfully discovered the art of taking a sip or two and spilling the rest of the generous pour into the spittoon. That way I could taste a lot of different wines without the headaches and dehydration. It shouldn't have been such a revelation, but for me it was. We couldn't help but compare Mudgee to the Hunter Valley, the more commercial wine producing region only two hours outside of Sydney. I didn't detect any major differences in quality, but I have to give points to Mudgee wineries for their relaxed, inviting atmospheres. Many, Di Lusso especially, had patios with stylish tables and chairs for patrons to use while enjoying a bit of wine and cheese and contemplating the good life. Almost all of these patios looked out onto neat rows of vines and endless blue sky. I guess the spectacular weather didn't hurt either.

We avoided electing a designated driver on day two of wine tasting by renting bikes. Laura, Mickey and I were lucky enough to score comfort seats, the big cushy kind for those of us who prefer beach cruisers. Another great reason to go wine tasting via bicycles is that the extra exercise helps one justify consuming more cheese. Win win.

Wine and cheese aside, though, we don't believe that Mudgee is the foodie town that it thinks it is. On our first night we ended up at the Wine Glass, a brasserie with the reputation of being one of the better restaurants in town. The food was decent, but they actually served a wine that had gone off. The fact that it was on special for $20 a bottle could have been a clue, but we were in a wine town, not a Shakey's Pizza in Canton, Ohio for heaven's sake. We scored a booking at Blue Wren for dinner on Easter Sunday, by some accounts the best restaurant in Mudgee. We were immediately impressed that they pick up and drop off diners at their hotels for no extra charge. Despite the extra service, though, the food didn't blow us away.

Though as an adult I haven't been way into Easter, I decided to organize an egg hunt for my friends on Sunday morning after breakfast. I scoured my favorite discount stores for plastic eggs, but they were nowhere to be found. It turns out that Australia's Easter traditions are cemented around chocolate; only chocolate bunnies, bilbys and eggs will do. I can't say they're missing out on much regarding Peeps (sorry, Jess), but jelly beans and plastic eggs would be lovely. Anyway, Mickey and I woke up early on Easter Sunday and tiptoed around the B&B's porch, stuffing eggs in planters, hedges and outdoor furniture. Sadly, the owner's dogs found a couple of the chocolates before our friends did, but they still appreciated the effort.

Overall, Mudgee is a great long weekend getaway from Sydney. Even if you're not into wine, the bird and roo watching were really rewarding. We saw four black cockatoos fly overhead one afternoon and I spied tons of tiny birds chasing each other through the gum trees. The sights and sounds of the country are appealing enough to make me ponder what life there would be like. Then again, the kookaburra's 5am cackle reminded me that Sydney's not so bad either.

Photos courtesy of Laura Wandke. Thank you, Laura.

Auckland: Visiting NZ's one and only Metropolis

About a month ago, Mickey scored a work trip to Auckland and bought a ticket for me to tag along for the weekend. After two previous trips to New Zealand, one to Wellington and the other around the south island, we were eager to explore Auckland, the city in and around which one third of the kiwi population lives.

Mickey arrived mid-week and I followed him on a delayed Jetstar flight (during which I did not possess my $10 entertainment unit long enough to finish The Blindside) late Thursday night. Taking the direct shuttle into town was easy (take note, Sydney) and cheap, too, thanks to a pre-printed coupon Mickey left for me. Can you see why I love this man? I joined him in a small, but comfortable room at Rydges, a recently renovated hotel conveniently located near the harbour.

While Mickey was at a work event, I spent my first day wandering near the water's edge admiring the sleek racing boats and yachts that line the quays. After some pretty intense shopping, I stopped for lunch at Mexicali Fresh, a restaurant Mickey swore was legit, "Californian owner," etc. Foolishly I believed him and wasted my appetite on dry, shredded beef wrapped in a plasticky corn tortilla, their version of a Tijuana taco. I guess that's what I get for believing I could get a taste of TJ in NZ.

Window-shopping on High Street afforded a unique opportunity to find unique kiwi-designed clothing. I would have loved to wow my Sydney friends with a one of a kind kiwi fashion treasure, but found the prices shockingly high ($400NZD for a sweater - I don't know the conversion, but it certainly wasn't affordable). I would have been happy to take home another pair of thundies, mega fun and comfy underwear, but alas found none.

Mickey was free from his work commitments on Saturday so we took the ferry to Waiheke Island, a gorgeous spot known for its wineries. Spectacular weather helped us instantly fall in love with the place as we traveled in a crowded bus from one end of the island to a beach on the other.

We stopped at a couple of wineries in the afternoon, the most notable of which was Saratoga, a winery owned by a couple from Saratoga, California of all places. They also offered a Mexican-inspired menu, but I talked Mickey down to just ordering a plate of chips and queso. We also stopped at Wild on Waiheke, a winery/brewery/activity center in one. I question the wisdom of the person who thought offering archery and drinking at the same time was a good idea, but everyone seemed to be having fun. In fact, we enjoyed observing separate groups celebrating Hens' and Bucks' parties. I never thought I'd witness a grown man perfect his laser clay shooting skills while painted blue and dressed as a smurf, but thanks to Wild on Waiheke, I have.

There aren't a lot of differences between Auckland and some of Australia's capital cities in terms of architecture, food and culture, but I noticed an abundance of Japanese restaurants in Auckland's CBD. We briefly searched the internet for recommendations before settling on Tanuki for dinner on Saturday. The atmosphere was cozy and authentic, but sadly the food left something to be desired. I found the rice way too sweet and was forced to face facts about my favorite sushi rolls not being gluten free.

But what Auckland lacked in the delicious food department, it made up for in the adorable penguin department. Mickey and I spent our last morning at Kelly Tarlton's, the self-proclaimed biggest tourist attraction in Auckland, which features an Antarctic penguin enclosure. The reviews online were mixed, but we totally dug it.

The penguin enclosure is designed to mimic Antarctic conditions so they keep it at 1C. Visitors observe the little cuties via a revolving snocat car so there's no need for parkas or snow boots. Kelly Tarlton's is home to two species of penguin: the King and the Gentoo. The Gentoo were quite active: swimming, waddling on to the snow and then diving in to the icy water again. Meanwhile, the King penguins just stood there very proudly. They were so lazy that the trainers had to hand feed them! I really admire that kind of attitude in the face of captivity.

Kelly Tarlton's other major exhibit is a reproduction of Robert Falcon Scott's 1911 Antarctic hut. I was completely captivated by his tragic story of exploration, starvation and death at the South Pole. I forgot to mention that Kelly Tarlton's provides a free shuttle to and from the CBD. The shuttle bus is shaped like a shark. I'm not kidding. In other words, I had a great time at Kelly Tarlton's.

Auckland consistently ranks among the top most livable cities in the world and I can see why. It's clean, beautiful, friendly and there's lots to do. Maybe next time I'll find it even more livable if I seek some pointers on where to eat.

Honeymoon in Fiji - two and a half years after the wedding

Mickey and I are extraordinarily fortunate in that we travel for fun often. Thus, we didn't feel the need to take a honeymoon following our 2007 nuptials in Switzerland.

After returning from a quick trip to Fiji, though, perhaps our most relaxing and romantic trip yet, I asked Mickey, "can this count as our honeymoon?"

Booking the trip back in early December was easy; V Australia advertised a sale and twenty minutes later, we had purchased two round trip tickets costing only $600AUD all up. Booking accommodations, on the other hand, was trickier because the options seem endless. Did we want a super lux over-water bure (featured in that awful Vince Vahn movie Couple's Retreat) or a more affordable garden hut? Was the private plunge pool worth the money? Should we seek out a resort with all inclusive meal packages? What a lovely problem to have, right?

I consulted tripadvisor and our friends Chris and Jess who had recently visited Fiji for advice. Resort websites were no help; they all feature gorgeous pictures of white sandy beaches with crystal clear turquoise water so it's hard to differentiate between them. Tripadvisor wasn't too helpful in making a decision either. Every resort page featured glowing reviews declaring the place utter paradise peppered with the occasional but still worrying damning review along the lines of 'not worth the money.'

I was disappointed to learn that some of the resorts I liked best are hard to physically reach if your flight lands after 2pm. The last boats of the day destined for remote islands in the Mamanuca and Yasawa chains depart from Port Denarau around 3pm, leaving passengers on afternoon flights to either stay on the main island one night or take a private sea plane, jet boat or helicopter directly to their resorts. The first option didn't suit our needs as we were only staying four nights, and the latter two were a bit too extravagant. Private sea plane? What am I, Madonna or something? If I had mentally prepared myself for a splurge on an aerial tour, I might have opted for the flight, but I just couldn't justify spending the same amount as two nights accommodation on simply getting there.

To make a long story just a little shorter, I finally decided on Musket Cove, a resort in the Mamanuca chain that offers transportation on a 5pm catamaran. Perfect. It was pricey, approximately $320USD/night, but I compared resorts that were less and more and this seemed suit us best. When I rang the resort to make the reservation, the agent immediately offered me a 50% discount. I could have been jumping for joy, but instead I was skeptical. Other resorts I had called for quotes indicated they were booked out, not offering discounts. I asked the agent the reason for my (dubious) good fortune and she explained that it was "low season." What did low season mean? Was that code for cyclone season, disruptive hotel renovations or extreme political unrest? I optimistically decided that the GFC coupled with a genuine low season (neither US nor Aus/NZ have holidays at that time) made for a bargain, not a gamble.

Fortunately, I was right. Mickey and I were delighted with Musket Cove and Fiji in general. Spending approximately $160USD/night for a large, private beach bure (hut) in a 3.5/4 star resort seemed to be really great value. Snorkeling trips (and all gear) as well as an excursion to a native Fijian village were included in the price. Food and cocktails, of course, cost extra, but we didn't find these to be outrageously expensive. Likewise, I found great deals at the resort's day spa; my 50 minute massage was only $35USD!

Yes, we were pampered indeed. We spent our time between meals carving a triangular path between the pool, ocean and lounge chairs. Sunday morning started off quite differently, though, when we heard a loud knocking on the door to our hut at 7am. Mickey groggily answered the door and learned from the staff that we had to evacuate because of the tsunami warning following the Chilean earthquake. The funny thing about it was that we had three hours notice; the tsunami wasn't coming until 10am so we had time for a leisurely breakfast. The other guests didn't seem too worried. A local woman explained that the geographic location of our island and its reefs made us quite safe. One idiot piped up, "we think this is bad for us, think about the people in Chile." Comparing a mildly inconvenient evacuation to the total devastation of your town seemed ridiculous.

Anyway, after gathering the belongings that we absolutely didn't want to get washed away (passports, jewelry and my Bon Appetit magazines), we evacuated to a chapel on higher ground. The irony was too much to resist making bad jokes: how do you get two atheists into church on their Fijian vacation? Though it was very hot, the staff did a great job of keeping us updated on the tsunami-watch progress and provided everyone with food and water. After three hours in the chapel we were given the all clear. Hallelujah.

I thoroughly enjoyed our snorkeling excursion to the nearby reef. In some ways, it was superior to snorkeling at the Great Barrier Reef in north Queensland. Reaching the outer reef takes an hour and 45 minutes whereas boating to an arguably equally beautiful reef in Fiji takes only ten minutes. Observing the brightly colored fish from the surface of the water felt like gliding over an alien landscape; there's nothing like it. Mickey wasn't as moved by the experience as I was, but he did extremely well with the open water.

We initially planned to go snorkeling on our last morning in Fiji, but thought better of it when we crossed paths with a black and white sea snake while wading near the shore on the previous afternoon. It was just a little thing, but Mickey and I both had nightmares about it. Scarier still, we couldn't get a straight answer from the staff about whether or not it was venomous.

Sea snake aside, we had a wonderful time in Fiji and talked about wanting to stay longer or return for Christmas with my family. We experienced the joy of a honeymoon, but didn't get ripped off the way honeymooners often do. Now that's what I call paradise.