LIZARD ISLAND
From Sydney we flew to Cairns and then in a small plane to Lizard Island. Lizard Island is the closest thing to Paradise on earth. It is a small snatch of Island one mile long on the GBR. It is uninhabited except for a small research station and a luxury resort. The rooms have spectacular views, the dining areas is set in a crystalline harbor with a white sandy beach. The only sign dystopian reminders are three foot long lizards that lie on the walkways to remind us of our pre-historic past. The first evening we had a sea food barbecue in which we had our only true experience with “shrimps on the barbie”.
The most spectacular view, however is under water – a conflagration of multicolored coral interspersed with fish of tropical splendor – parrot fish, angel fish, trigger fish and giant ancient clams in iridescent blues, greens and purples. Roz and Nina conquered their claustrophobic fear of snorkeling, perhaps as a result of seeing their husbands – ready to take the plunge in their reptilian garb. Finally able to control their laughter, they joined John and Mike in an underwater adventure.
That evening we had our third unforgettable meal this time of lobsters flown in specially for us and an unlimited array of oysters, giant prawns and crayfish. We also had our first – and last – taste of kangaroo, after which we hopped to bed.

ADELAIDE
From Lizard Island we took what is euphemistically called “light aircraft” (one engine, four seats) to Adelaide. Adelaide is a planned city of a million people surrounded by parks that were planted as a defense against a feared Russian invasion two hundred years ago. It is on Australia’s southern coast. There, we had dinner with Roz’s cousin Nicolas – an ex-pat Brit who introduced us to some new wines and good restaurants. (One called Chianti Classico was especially good.)

KANGAROO ISLAND
The next morning we flew to Kangaroo Island. We were met there by “Ranger” Rob, a reformed newspaper man. (On “The Islander” he became managing editor at the age of 17. By twenty five he was the sole reporter, editor, ad salesman, layout manager and distribution director. By 26 he had burnt out and found it less stressful to take tourists such as ourselves into the bush. Five minutes out of the airport he regretted his choice.)
Our first stop was a grove of eucalyptus trees where Roz spotted our first Koala in the wild, a chubby, fur ball lodged in the crotch of a tree, high in the air engaged in its primary daily activity – sleep. A higher form of life, Koalas sleep twenty hours a day and spend the remaining four eating eucalyptus leaves. During the day we hiked through semi-arid topography and spotted more Koalas, an endless number of kangaroos, wallabies, cockatoos and a huge eagle with a wing span of 8 to 10 feet. We ate a delicious lunch, whiting fish caught and cooked by “Ranger” Rob himself and met a loony old geezer who regaled us with risqué jokes, stories and boasts. We walked on the spectacular beach with dozens of sea lions.
In the evening we stayed in a “bed and breakfast” run by Peter and Penny who announced as soon as we crossed the threshold that she was the great, great, great grand-daughter of an American President . She challenged us to guess which one it turned out to be none other than our favorite one, Millard Fillmore. Penny even had two pieces pf furniture which, she claimed, speaking slowly as a result of consumption of a large quantity of grape extract, had actually come from the Whitehouse. Penny and Peter raised border collies and had four children all eight named Millard Fillmore. In cased any one missed th connection. After dinner in which our hosts replenished their glasses several time, Penny told us that at some B & B’s the hosts don’t join the guests. (Just our luck.) After dinner Peter took us on a wild nocturnal game run in which he attempted to run down anything that moved especially feral cats, which for some reason struck a deep cord in his psyche. We all sat in shocked silence as Roz said, beneath her breath, “He’s totally insane.”
The next day we returned from Adelaide and went to he Barossa Valley. There we tasted Australia’s finest Shiraz with a guide – Michael who seemed to enjoy us as much as we enjoyed the wine. At the Barossa valley Nina, who to this point had only appreciated the fine qualities of Diet Coke, became an instant connoisseur and encouraged us to buy a case of the finest Shiraz – a Rockford “Basket Press” variety. Nina loved its “good nose”, “hints of blackberry, licorice and tar”, and “it’s long finish”.
On the way back, Mike spotted a Koala and baby in a tree by the side of the road. It was our best Koala sighting – undoubtedly enhanced by our mild inebriation.
That evening we had Champaign at Nick’s apartment and went to dinner at an excellent Indian Restaurant.

MELBOURNE
The next day we caught a flight to M and arrived at our hotel early. We instantly loved the City’s faster pulse and European/ San Francisco/ Boston feel. We had lunch at Federation square and impressed by the architecture. We walked to the Royal Botanical Guardians. Not much was in bloom but it was exquisitely beautiful.
That evening we ate at a great Chinese restaurant – The Flower Drum. We saw aborigine art, went to the disappointing zoo (worth skipping), and had another great dinner at Vue de Monde, a magnificent French Restaurant.
John tried to find “The Melbourne Hotel” where his father stayed in 1942. Despite a diligent search it could not be located and seems to have disappeared. We visited the old Melourne Gaol (Jail) the last resting place of the famous outlaw Ned Kelly.
We all enjoyed Australia and the Australians. We fully understood it’s appeal and bid it a final g’day.

NEW ZEALAND

We arrived in Auckland New Zealand in the late afternoon, a country of more possums than people. We went to the wharf for dinner at a dockside restaurant. The city was energized by the enthusiasm for a “big” rugby game between New Zealand and Australia. All eyes, except ours, were glued on the big screen tv’s in the restaurants and bars. Early the next morning we took off for the South Island. We were met by a driver named Ossie who is warbird enthusiast and in a stroke of coincidence knew all about the “the swamp ghost”, a downed world war two plain that is the subject of a forthcoming article by John. His boss it turned out was the cousin by marriage of the man who arranged to salvage the wreck in the wilds of Papua New Guinea. (Coincidence, we think not!)
In Christchurch, we stayed at the hotel George. It is said to be the most reminiscent of England of any in the Southern Hemisphere. (A claim strongly contested by Nina.)
We strolled around the town watching the buskers, taking in the ambience. At one point we saw in the distance several cheerful buoyant young people with cardboard signs saying “free hugs”. Roz saw them first and leaned to Nina and whispered “avoid them at all costs.” Alas, it was too late. One generously proportioned reveler threw open her arms to Nina who – alarmed -- hesitated and pulled back. “Come on, it’s just a hug”, the young woman beamed and moved in on Nina. Charitably and protectively, Roz came to the rescue and joined in a three person hug. As Roz and Nina disentangled themselves they looked behind to see Mike return for a succession of hugs. The alarmed huggers beat a hasty retreat with Mike in hot pursuit shouting “it’s just a hug”.

We visited the art center located in the faux gothic halls of the university. At the entrance was the outline of a house suspended by invisible wires. We had lunch at Annie’s and visited the new Art Gallery founded by Rosalind Burdon, the sister in law of Brad Gallant a friend of Mike and Roz. Ros and her husband Philip invited us for dinner at their modern apartment. Philip, a former MP from the conservative/nationalist party and former cabinet minister filled us in on New Zealand’s politics and problems. Despite our political differences we enjoyed the lively conversation and gracious hospitality.