Denouement: honeymoon

We just recently returned from our blissful 17-day honeymoon in Australia (19 days if you count the days we lost in flight), and I must say, the whole thing sort of feels like a dream. A really good dream filled with natural beauty, beer, pipes through which flows chocolate and precious golden retrievers. (The precious golden retrievers do not flow through the pipes. Perhaps I should have written, "...natural beauty, beer, golden retrievers and pipes through which flows chocolate.")

I normally keep very detailed diaries of my vacations, especially to Australia. I didn't this time; I blame this on my status as a Cascade-drinking, jet-lagged honeymooner. Truthfully, I was a little (a lot) lazy, and am already kicking myself. How else am I going to savor the incredible details? I know, I can blog!

Highlights:

1. Our obscenely posh hotel room at the Park Hyatt Sydney. The Opera House was about two meters away from our private balcony. Perhaps the most luxurious detail: I did not have to hurl the comforter into a corner immediately upon entering the room, fearful of the DNA that had certainly been left there by previous visitors. This room was so clean, I could have eaten Cadbury chocolates off the duvet, or off the marble bathroom floor. I did not actually do this, thankfully, but knowing I could have was more than enough.
   
   
2. Dukkah, a spice mixture of Middle Eastern origin that is very popular in Australia right now. It's served with crusty bread and olive oil; dip the bread in the oil, then in the dukkah, then inhale in mass quantities. I think it includes coriander, sesame seeds, pistachios, cumin and salt, among other ingredients. I spent several meals staring into the ramekins containing the mixture, trying to divine a recipe for it -- an action which no doubt made me look like an idiot to the waiters. Whatever.
   
   
3. Dogs of several shapes and sizes, although specifically golden retrievers. As I mentioned in an earlier post, we spent one perfect night at a bed and breakfast in the Huon Valley south of Hobart, Tasmania, called Matilda's of Ranelagh. There were delightful doggies, one of which literally met us at the end of the driveway as we drove in. She just trotted along, looking over her doggie shoulder every so often to make sure we were following her. These three goldens -- Pinot, Molly and Blossom -- live the good life in the Tasmanian countryside, enjoying a bowl of raw meat each afternoon and making merry with dog-loving guests from around the world. Pamela, our host, told me that people who don't like dogs don't stay with her, and she wouldn't want them to, anyway. (All this dog-talk glosses over another critical feature of our stay: the bed. I have never in my life slept in a more comfortable bed. Seriously. If Pamela needs some sort of live-in help, I am so there.)
   
   There was also a most excellent shih-tzu named Max at our B&B in the Barossa Valley, South Australia. He was an energetic little thing, and we watched him get into an amusing three-way stare-down with an alpaca and a sheep:
   
   
   
4. Dion: Strahan, Tasmania's, gregarious tree-loving man-boy. On the west coast of Tasmania lies Macquarie Harbour -- Australia's second largest harbour (behind Port Phillip Bay in Melbourne) -- and the Gordon River. A tiny port town called Strahan (pop. 700) is the only town for many kilometers, and trades mostly in tourism by offering cruises on the stunning harbour and river. We booked into a Gordon river cruise on the Lady Jane Franklin II for a six-hour tour, and were guided along the way by a young gentleman named Dion. Dion had the looks and boyish charm of Donny Osmond matched with the wisdom and tree-passion of John Muir. Dion exuberantly informed us that "this is a great time of year if you love trees!"
   
   And I do love trees, especially the amazing Huon Pines that grow along the Gordon River and contain a potent rot-resistant oil that makes the timber prized for ship construction. I understand his fervor, so I can't make fun of him too much. But my husband can. By the time the trip was over, poor Dion -- who is doubtless married to a nice school teacher and probably has a little baby -- had grown in legend to be this flamboyant naturalist who bathes in Huon oil and whose head cannot be turned by young women, such is his singular focus on the great pine.
   
   
5. Pipes of chocolate. Not a Wings song, but rather, literal pipes that run throughout the Cadbury Factory in Claremont, Tasmania, carrying melted chocolate and liquid candy centers to their respective conveyor belts and molding machines. Mostly I assume that pipes carry water, or sewage, or runoff. But these magnificent conduits are filled with Dairy Milk chocolatey goodness. If only one had burst while we were standing under it.
   
   On a related note, at several points during the Cadbury tour the guide distributes samples to the eager group. On our tour, there was a young mother with two elementary school-aged daughters. One was wearing a hooded sweatshirt. At a sample stop, the mum loaded up the hood with chocolates, and when she or the girls were hungry along the way they just reached into the hood and helped themselves. Resourceful.
   
   
6. HOFM 101.7, "Today's Better Music Mix," Hobart, Tasmania. A great destination on the dial if you'd like to hear Huey Lewis and the News, James Blunt, Creedence, Kelly Clarkson and George Thorogood, preferably in that order. If you're a frequent listener -- or are able at least to amass a network of listener friends -- you could have the opportunity to win $201 if they call you and you know that hour's song. Please pay attention; it is embarrassing how few people were able to collect the $201.

More to come. I haven't even touched upon driving on the left side of the road, the mildly frightening New Zealanders who were following us around Victoria, or the deafening silence of South Australia's Limestone Coast -- a vast quietness punctuated only by the distant mooing of stock.