A fine port

August 26, 2010 – 9:22 am

A little advice: When you visit the shower stalls on the Manly Quarantine Station Ghost Tour, be sure to mind the 6 inch drainage gap between the stall wall and the floor.  I received this advice myself from the tour guide. But if you’re anything like me, you’re not listening anyway because all you care about is which stall you’re most likely to have a supernatural encounter in.  And if you are me, what you are is the American tourist who does not mind that gap and falls spectacularly into the stall. It was the loudest noise in the history of Australia and scared the living shit out of my fellow ghosthunters. My brother snapped this picture right when they realized it was me, “Oh Goddamit, Sarah..really?!”

Quiet on the set!

We’ve moved into that post-production phase of vacation.  My brother and sister are back in New York  recovering from jetlag and sending the higher res photos I demand because I can’t stomach Facebook’s crap compression.  Meanwhile, I’m waking up to notes from every single person we convinced to participate in our comedy shorts throughout the country, because normal people shoot scripted movies on vacation.  And by “comedy” I mean a series of quick jokes that are so inside, a note saying, “We should add the Perfect Strangers theme song!” makes perfect sense.

Aaron and Bekah have used one word over and over to describe this trip to friends; epic. Going through all of this media in the quiet of a hotel room for my last few days in Australia, I couldn’t agree more. We have very different epic tales to tell, however.

Snorkeling on the Reef, the Great Ocean Road, Double Coat Tim Tams… their photos make up the classic first Aussie vacation which is a mind-blowing, jetlagged blast. Since I was just tagging along for the ride and skipping sights I had seen, my album is made up of all the people along the way who I had more time to spend on during this second trip to Oz. The first stop on my first trip was Port Douglas as it was this second time around..and will be on the third, fourth, and fifty-seventh trip to Australia. Now that I’m an obnoxious world traveler who calls her home country, “The States”, I can officially say that Port Douglas is one of my favorite places in the world.

Jai's tiles

Picture an Upstate NY or New England small town with a typical Main Street. Now imagine a marina with boats heading to the Great Barrier Reef at one end, and the Coral Sea with a gelato stand that sells the best flavor ever, Burnt Toffee, at the other.  That is Port Douglas. And because I was on my second visit, I was able to spend some quality time in the middle of Main Street with the people who live, work, or just meander through there.

The Host with the Most

The number 1 person being Conan, the Mayor of Port Douglas. Not really… but really, he should be. I have never met anyone who is so up for anything and everything. When you get to town, text him and ask him out for coffee or a beer… or a bike ride or tango lessons… or a police car chase or nude modeling… or a sleepover party or salon day. His answer will always be the same, “Fuk yeah! Where are you?” No “C” in the F word ever. Probably because it takes too much time to type and Conan just wants to get down to business.

This is our third visit together and it was most definitely a charm. The longer you know Conan, the better the texts get. “Right..went to karaoke tonight and sang ‘If I Could Turn Back Time by Cher’ didn’t turn out as great as I thought. BULLSHIT, IT WAS AWESOME!” Or after my family left Port and I had a few extra days on my own, “Dinner party tonight at an unreal apartment. Get dressed up and bring your swimmies!”

Crazy apt up on The Hill in Port Douglas

No explanation as to why we were getting dressed up, what this party is for, whose place this is, or what the hell swimmies are. For Conan, these details don’t matter; it was simply happening now, and I just needed to be there.

The boys did an excellent job setting the table

…Because the views of the ocean and forest are unreal and the table was set beautifully.

Salad prep

And we didn’t go to jail for breaking and entering, because our friend Guy was actually living here for a few weeks before he moved to Melbourne and wanted to share the awesome space with his friends.

Nancy from Montreal

And I met French Canadian Nancy, who regularly uses the word “destiny” in conversation and was willing to walk home from the party with me because I was terrified of being attacked by a crocodile on my way down the hill.

Chrissy's nickname is Big Red..wonder why.

And Chrissy from New Zealand, aka “Big Red”, was more than up for dancing to Arrested Development with me in the living room. I was on my own for “O.P.P.”, though.

Jai 2

Conan would say that all of my questions are proof that I worry too much. It’s difficult not to when he does stuff like arrange a party at your hotel room, and then sends five guests whom you have never met before in your life an hour before he arrives.

One of those guests is Jai, an artist who sells his excellent work at his own shop in Port Douglas. The minute he arrives he’s nicer, funnier, and cooler than anybody you have ever met. You want to marry him, or make him your maid of honor, or produce a television show all about him called, “Jai: The Musical”. He is a wonderful person, who told one of the best party stories I ever heard about dancing in clubs at Bali. There’s no way I could possibly do justice to it here, but suffice it to say I will never hear the song “I Know You Want Me” and not see Jai dancing in the middle of our room cracking us all up.

Once again, Conan was right.

The Port Crew

Of all my people pictures, I hate and love this one the most. The lighting is crap and does not do the Port Douglas Crew justice. There are at least three other awesome people in that picture that I would love to introduce you to, but they just melt into the shadows. But I also love this picture because it was my last day at Port and Conan had arranged for everyone to meet for lunch. It’s crap because I set it up as quickly as possible, knowing I was going to take off early to avoid crying in front of everyone. I got the shot and cried anyway, hugging everybody and saying, “Ok Ok… love you guys.” That’s a Sarah term of endearment, reserved for only my absolute favorites in life. I hadn’t said it since I left New York and said goodbye to my family at Comedy Central, and here I was saying it in the middle of Port Douglas.

Last day in Port at Jai

Jai took this picture in his shop when I popped in to say goodbye and I have a similar love/hate relationship with it. I could do without the crazy circles under my eyes which Conan caused by waking me up at 1 am after he was done with work just to hang out in the living room. And a shower would have been nice, but was pointless because I had get one last ocean swim in before leaving Port Douglas.

But I love it because I look more like myself than I have in a long time. I ain’t Halle Berry, but I look like I’m breezy and at home. A 20 plus hour flight away from a life I spent 10 years building back in New York, and I feel at home in a town with jellyfish warning signs.

It’s my connection to these people, Port Douglas, and Australia that is epic. I still have no idea why I feel so strongly about this place, but it doesn’t matter.

It’s simply happening, and I just need to be here.

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Checking In

August 10, 2010 – 4:14 pm

IMG_8759

I’m in that pool of adult children whose parents have embraced technology just enough to keep in touch with their kids, but could never be confused with Steve Jobs. They overindulge in emoticons, write entire messages in ALL CAPS, or send blanks messages with no note because they hit send too fast- which is totally freaky because the email feels haunted.

My father’s particular quirk is that he uses the same title for every email he sends…Checking In. Whether it be to see which bus I’m catching home for Thanksgiving, forward my Uncle’s email address, or to suggest adding Shanghai to my travels because he saw a very interesting documentary on PBS-my father is always only ever “Checking In”. His standard greeting is always “Hello Dear Daughter” and he always post scripts with “You are the best. Did I ever tell you that?” So, ya’ know..I can’t be too mad.

Still, it’s very difficult to find those two or three key pieces of information when I actually need them when every email has the same heading. Messages from 5 years past or 5 minutes ago pile up and overlap when you sort by sender. As I was sorting through the check-ins trying to respond to my father’s latest email asking how his children were doing in Australia, I realized I owed you guys a massive Check-In of my own, because..did you know that, orrrr..no? I’m following my younger brother and sister around on their first international trip and falling back in love with my adopted ancestral homeland, Australia.

Ok, you didn’t know that. Sorry. Consider this your one all-mighty check-in, bringing you mostly up to date with my goings-on in Australasia.

Which way?

Hello Dear Reader:

Remember when I saw that dog driving in Auckland? Well, I was waiting for a bus to get to an interview for my first job in New Zealand; filling in for an interactive producer at an ad agency in while he was away on leave. Funny how a two week job in the middle of extended travel can feel like another one of the excursions. It felt great to use my corporate marketing muscles again, and just as great to move on when the tour was done. Work holiday, indeed.

Then two days after I finished that gig, I got on a flight out of Auckland wearing a pea coat and switched into my over-worn travel hoodie in slightly warmer Sydney. I met up with my brother’s good Aussie friend Matt who took me out for an excellent Thai meal, not because he’s a good person but because he’s on a mission to prove that Australia has better food than New York. I don’t trust that guy for a second. The next morning, I valiantly fought alongside my sister, brother and family friend as they battled outrageous jetlag sightseeing in Sydney for two days and eating amazing tapas at this joint called The Passage. It would have been more delicious if I knew it wasn’t more evidence in Matt’s case against American cuisine.
Cooooo-nan.

Then we hopped a flight to Cairns…
to get to Port Douglas…
to visit our friend Conan…
..who arranged a good old-fashioned house party in our hotel room with old friends from my last visit, and new friends who took us out on boats for barbecues and humored us when we made them participate in our amateur short film which I am currently editing. One of our stars and new friend Mark says, “oh my god, that was so much more fun for no reason.” I agree. Think “Inception” meets “Australia”

Bekah waiting for George the Groper!

What else? I re-connected (and by “re-connected”, I mean french kissing)with a blast from Port Douglas past, which was fun… but kinda weird to return to old Summer Lovin’. Grease 1 was better than Grease 2 for a reason. And my brother went jet skiing. And my sister got obsessed with George the Groper, because how could you not be once you seen that massive fish being fed slightly less massive fish.

Remember when I didn't know Conan?

Once my family left for the next part of their trip, I went to a dinner at a beautiful house on a hill that looked out over the Coral Sea and I tried to remember a time that I didn’t know Conan or this wonderful town or amazing country. Impossible.

4 Mile Beach forever!

Now I’m sitting here at Conan’s place early Thursday morning on my last full day in Port Douglas before I meet up with my family again in Melbourne, trying to shake off the damp weather that’s descended upon us and updating you all without even one drop of coffee in my system. I must tend to that right away.

Sorry to have checked out for a month, but as you can see I’ve been pretty busy. I promise to check in more regularly and to use a different blog title every time so as to avoid any confusion.

Love,
Sarah

p.s. You are the best. Did I ever tell you that?

p.p.s. A sneak peek of some of the footage from “Port Douglas, The Movie.”

Flickr Video
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Think Pink

July 13, 2010 – 1:46 am

I keep forgetting to tell you…
Marshmallows in New Zealand are always pink and white. Always.

At the cafe, in the supermarket, the ones that I pretend will come to life and be my friends right before I cook them…pink and white. So cute my brain melts and I wish I had a million baby bunny rabbits to feed pink and white marshmallows to. That’s what they eat, right?

In other news, dogs can drive here. I swear.

While waiting to catch a bus in Auckland the other day, I looked up from my purse to see a large dog drive by in an SUV. Of course, I had forgotten for the one millionth time since I’ve been here that both the cars and their steering wheels are on the opposite side. So for at least a minute and a half my mouth was wide open marveling at this miracle. Then another minute of doubled-over laughter because I remembered where I was, and a dog on the wrong side of the car doesn’t look like a dog anymore. He’s just some dude on a road trip with a human through the North Island, hoping to discover himself.

Marshmallows are pink.
Dogs can drive.
Traveling really does open your mind.

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Independence

July 7, 2010 – 6:23 pm

This is my first blueberry pie which was supposed to be my world-famous peach pie for our Independence Day dinner party.

It’s kind of a big deal for me, because as a rule I avoid murky foods. Nothing freaks me out more than sticking my spoon, fork, or spork into a deep, dark dish not knowing what might come up. What lies beneath the calm surface of Miso Soup? Did they tuck a disgusting date into that bottomless morass of stew? God knows what has been packed into that terrine!

Rules are meant to be broken when you’re in New Zealand standing in front of a peach-less frozen fruit section, and you’re the only American at a July 4th dinner party held on July 3rd because Saturday was easier….

…And on July 2nd your flatmate’s mellow wine and cheese with the girls turns into a dance party in the living room with special guest stars, your 20something neighbor and his friend, who literally climbed over the patio walls to join the party.

…And after talking for way too long with the 20something friend about how in love you are with Tom Petty lately, you find yourself frenching a college student goodbye on his way back home over that patio wall…

…or Uni student, whatever. We definitely made out.
And pie plans changed.

I had to work with what was available to me at the moment, and against a slight hangover. No peaches in sight, but frozen blueberries as far as the eye could see and two kiwi flatmates at home napping, cleaning, and preparing for a party of 10. Throw excellent material for dinner conversation into the mix about our previous night’s shennanigans, “Oh, I did not ‘pash’ or ’snog’ him! It was a good old-fashioned American french!”. How could any pie with all of that inside be that bad?

My trusty-rusty crust recipe with a new murky blueberry filling, topped with a coconut almond crumble. Served in New Zealand, where the girls dance in living rooms and the boys climb over walls, to fantastic people I did not know existed 2 months ago who were all there to celebrate my independence.

Let freedom ring, and never fear the murk.

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Honesty Time

June 23, 2010 – 5:11 am

Remember when I told you I ate a chocolate bar in the bathroom?

Alright. That was not the coolest shit I ever did. But seriously, that was unavoidable. You have to do half of your business (don’t be gross!) in the bathroom to avoid disturbing your roommates with a light. And I got news for ya’, what I’m about to tell is way uncooler. I’ve decided I don’t care, though. Beause I’m traveling, and I can do whatever I want

So my friend Pooja turned me on to this particular variety of Whittaker’s when we stayed one miserable night in the worst hostel on earth. I tell you, this was the creepiest place I have ever been. If someone had told me it was haunted, I would have said “Oh my God, do you hear them too?!” If someone had said this was the Happiness Hotel from The Great Muppet Caper I would have said, “I love that movie. It’s so great to be on location.” And if someone had said we were in The Shining I would have been careful to not trip over that kid on the big wheel. If someone had said anything of these things, I would have believed them in an instant because it was that terrible.

The one bright spot that night was the lovely meal Pooja and I shared of potato chips, red wine, and a Whittaker’s Ghana Peppermint bar for dessert. It was embarrassing, delicious and a matter of emotional survival. Imagine the freshest Junior Mint you ever had at the scariest movie you’ve ever seen. That’s what the Ghana Peppermint Bar tasted like that night.

So flash forward to last week when I was at the end of my rope in hostel life. I was back in Auckland where I will be based until I meet family and friends in Australia in August. This hostel was decent, my last roommate however was not. She was either 20 or 80, I’m not sure. She may have been waiting for a work visa in New Zealand, or looking for flights to Perth so she could get on a boat that would take her to Indonesia, (or “Indo” as the most hardcore of backpackers call it), to continue her bike trip around the world. Again, I’m not sure. She was very confused and confusing. What I WAS sure of was that I couldn’t spend 10 minutes alone in the room with her because she gave me a good old fashioned case of the heebee jeebees. The minute she walked in, I walked out to do..something… every single time. Even if it meant leaving a bar of Whittaker’s Ghana Peppermint behind on the sunny window sill.

The thing is Whittakers chocolate melts beautifully because there is no weird waxiness or preservatives.
And there was more than half a bar abandoned that day.
And it was still chocolate even though it melted!

Soooo…maybe…I..ummm..
scoopedthemeltedchocolateoffthewrapperwithmyfingersandatethewholedamnthing.

I’M SORRY! It’s so shameful! And so good!!
SEE WHAT HOSTELS HAVE DONE TO ME?!

You’ll be happy to know that I have moved into a proper condo with two wonderful roommates who brew coffee in the morning, leave fruit in a bowl, and aren’t planning any long term bike trips through Indo. There’s a gym membership on K Road with my name all over it and a brand new running playlist with Jay-Z all over it….at least for a month or so. There are more destinations in the near future, which means more hostels, and definitely more Whittakers.

Because I’m traveling.
And I can do whatever I want.

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