Myndi’s Wisdom: Your trip begins even before you embark. Let’s start with a few simple tips about packing and wardrobe.

∞∞ You may skip this section if you are fortunate enough to have a
TARDES available for your use ∞∞

Because your travels will take you through numerous cities, catching flights, renting cars and checking into 8 different hotels/resorts in five different climates, pack light. Remember, your itinerary runs from Sydney to Uluru to Alice Springs to Adelaide to the Clare Valley to the Barossa Valley to Adelaide to Kangaroo Island to Adelaide to Melbourne to Hobart to the Freycinet Peninsula to Scottsdale to Launceston and finally back to Sydney. Naturally I’ve left out the flight from wherever to Sydney and back, but you will need to plan for them as well.
Even though you can check more than one suitcase, PACK ONLY ONE SUITCASE! (Stow a foldable carry-on for impulse souvenir purchases along the way, if you must.) And, PACK LIGHT. Your traveling companion cannot conveniently be exchanged for a pack mule, so you will probably be lugging your luggage yourself.

Myndi’s Wisdom: You are what you wear.

Your wardrobe choices need to be sensible and cover a variety of situations, both weather and whether. Flexibility is the key. You can always get things laundered (though you may need to arrange a second mortgage in advance of your departure to cover the costs). Do it yourself laundry is a great choice, but only if you will be in one place long enough for your clothes to dry – packing damp clothing isn’t bad, but unpacking it is.

Here’s my recommendation for the female traveler:
4 pair cotton pants – 2 Capri and 2 full length
1 pair dress black pants
4 long sleeved cotton tee shirts
2 linen or cotton gauze dress shirts – these can be worn as overshirts for a different look
1 shawl
1 sweater
1 fleece
1 pair pj’s (none if you fly Qantas Business or First Class, they give them to you to keep)
7 pair washable quick drying Ex Officio undies
Light weight sneakers
Ballet slipper shoes
Quick drying bathing suit
Socks and stockings are optional
LEAVE YOUR MANOLO BLAHNIKS HOME! (First, no one will notice; second, no one will notice; third, they are probably really uncomfortable for extended walks.)

Recommendations for the male traveler:
2 pair washable cotton pants
2 pair Ex Officio convertible cargo parts (the ones that unzip at the knees and become shorts)
4 linen shirts – 2 long sleeve, 2 short sleeve
4 Ex Officio “bush” shirts – quick drying, cargo pockets
2 permanent press Oxford shirts – probably best as 1 long sleeve and 1 short sleeve
2 cotton tee shirts
7 pair washable quick drying Ex Officio undies
1 washable quick drying Ex Officio undershirt (wear it outbound, wash and wear home)
1 sweater (I STRONGLY recommend cashmere because it’s light, warm, and classy)
1 fleece
1 pair pj’s (none if you fly Qantas)

Light weight sneakers
Sturdy Mephisto loafers with rubber soles (these are for slipping off during flights but wearing to dinner because light weight sneakers are sometimes garishly trimmed and make it hard for maitre d’s to take the wearer seriously)
Socks are optional (wear a pair on your outbound flight, wash them, wear them on your flight home – between times they really aren’t necessary, even with the Mephisto loafers)

For travelers of any sex:
Toothbrush
Razor
Deodorant
Prescription meds
Sunglasses
DO BRING AND USE SPF 100 SUNSCREEN (the maximum locally available is SPF 50, the sun is so strong it will completely cook you in a fraction of the time you are accustomed to)
DO NOT BRING COSMETICS (they will melt off you and, no one will notice)
DO NOT BRING SHAMPOO (all the luxury resorts/hotels have amazing toiletries)

∞∞ TARDES USERS RESUME HERE ∞∞

Myndi’s Wisdom: You are what you eat – if you’re lucky.

The food and food fetishes are different. Do not worry about gaining weight. Australians eat mostly things that are healthy and you will be so active you will actually burn the calories you consume. Because you are busy, there is no time to snack, and the hidden home hazards have no horrible hold on you. Aussies are big on really tucking in to a serious meal with serious spirits as integral parts of the repast – enjoy along with them. If you are a gluten-free vegan and shun alcohol as promoting unhealthy desires – the gluten-free part is OK, vegan is achievable though scarcely desirable, but temperance is NOT an Australian virtue. If you are a really serious TGV (temperate, gluten-free vegan) STAY HOME. Australia boasts great food and wine (well, it would be a boast if it weren’t true, but it really isn’t because it is).
While no one would seriously advocate abandoning French Bordeaux or Scotch Whiskey, the Australians make delicious wines and Tasmanians in particular, distill world-class spirits. Not drinking the Reislings and GSM’s (Grenache, Sauvignon, Mourvedre) of the Clare Valley, the Shiraz’s of the Barossa Valley and the Pinot Noirs ofTasmania is missing an opportunity to enjoy the very best – most of these creations are consumed locally and, like platypuses and echidnas, are never seen anywhere else. Seafood, lamb and beef are flavorful, plentiful and well prepared. Fresh fruits and vegetables abound, and are incredibly delicious. Great cheeses will surprise and delight your palate, and will seriously threaten your long held prejudice that a cheese platter isn’t dessert.
Note: Moreton Bay Bugs need the attention of a serious marketing department to rebrand their unfortunate name, they are really like eating the best lobster tails you have ever enjoyed – only better.

Myndi’s Wisdom: Go Native – when you travel you leave home and enter another world

Do not tip under any circumstances, unless there is a line for it on the charge slip. Australians take it as an insult, even the hourly workers are paid well. (How does $25/hour minimum wage sound?) Truly extraordinary services (your guide dealing with a mob of crazed “bargain” tourists on the “queue” for an exhibition or table service above the standard established by Czarist nobles waiting tables in Parisian restaurants circa 1922) should be recognized. Ten percent makes everyone your BFF, and guarantees your future “bookings” will be treated as sacred obligations. Do say, “Thank you.” It’s actually heard, and truly appreciated. Do tell your host/server/guide how much you enjoyed whatever. Again, it’s actually heard, and truly appreciated.

This leads to my final set of recommendations.

Mydni’s Wisdom: Walk a kilometer or two in Aussie shoes (preferably UGGs)

To walk a kilometer in Aussie shoes you will need to ask directions (a kilometer is just about 5/8ths of a mile). TALK TO THE LOCALS! They are are justifiably proud of their incredible country, anxious to share it with you and value your opinion. If you show a sincere interest, they willingly share everything – one of our very best experiences was an invitation to a BBQ from one of our guides. He invited us because he was concerned we had been eating too much hotel food. Australia is huge, diverse, sparsely populated and surprisingly sophisticated. Enjoy every moment you spend here; enjoy the beauty of this vast unspoiled friendly country. To do this, DO NOT RUSH! Slow down; even Toto will know instinctively you’re not in Kansas anymore. Smile! Aussies smile more than anywhere else I’ve ever been. Australia is not just a country, it’s a continent and a consciously chosen lifestyle.

Myndi’s Wisdom: Stuff (this is, after all, suitable for children – incidentally, the Australian word is “poo”) happens. Do not let the perfect be the enemy of the good.

It is inevitable that you will feel stressed (you are, after all, half a world away from home); you will make a wrong turn (they drive on the wrong side of the road); you will arrive late (wallabies, wombats and kangaroos have no respect for the rules of the road). DON’T PANIC. Everything will turn out all right because as this is Australia. Locals even have an oft repeated phrase encapsulating the quintessential Aussie truth, “No worries mate.”

Myndi’s Final Bit of Wisdom: PLAN TO RETURN! Of course having a great travel coordinator makes all the difference between struggling to get it all arranged correctly and just needing to pack your bag (REMEMBER – ONE SUITCASE!)

CRITICAL FINAL NOTE: Bring along a stuffed dragon (or, if such a thing exists, equivalent totem) with ATTITUDE to make notes. (I am available for private bookings – I’ve had all my shots and my passport is up to date.)

Posted out of sequence – my editor should never have left me alone with a keyboard close at hand. I filed this accidentally on a cyberspace spike with the review of Orchids.

When I travel two of the things I miss are my pre- and post-prandial libations. I used to be unhappy with the TSA-imposed ban on liquids in carryon bags and would never think of entrusting good whiskey or fine cognac to checked bags (The temptation presented to a bag-searcher is unfair and most aircraft still don’t have heated and pressurized cargo bays.) From this unhappiness has come a new understanding of the circle of life. While I can’t take it with me, I have found the search for intelligent imbibeables can enrich a visit to any city. It’s even better when the city has inhabitants who share my fondness for fine food and drink.

If you are a regular reader, you know that we recently dined at Orchids in Cincinnati – you can catch up with my comments elsewhere in the blog if you missed it. Being in Cincinnati meant leaving my library of single malts and the comfort of a familiar drink before dinner – an unthinkable circumstance. Once checked into the hotel, I grabbed my iPad and requested Siri find the nearest liquor store. Now Siri isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, so I wasn’t surprised when she told me the nearest place to buy liquor was Walgreen’s down the next block, and the second closest was another drug store a block further away. I rephrased my inquiry carefully including the words “single malt”. Siri must have decided that I really wanted was a malted milk, but in a smaller size than would be a dinner-spoiler. She quickly responded with Graeters. Siri and I were clearly miscommunicating, as even I know Graeters makes ice cream, not scotch whiskey. In desperation I directed Siri to find the nearest “single malt scotch whiskey” not wanting to take the chance she’d suggest a barbeque place which employed bourbon or moonshine in its sauce. Remarkably, Siri replied, “Nicholson’s” and gave the address as next door. I was pretty sure there wasn’t a liquor store adjacent, but what the heck, I gathered my credit cards and headed out.

Nicholson’s is a Scottish pub in the middle of downtown Cincinnati. They don’t sell “package goods” but they do have a terrific selection of single malts. If you look at my Facebook page, I’ve posted a photo of a small part of their library. In addition, they have a wonderful pub menu including Belwie Beer Cheese which is sort of melted cheezwhiz served with a soft pretzel that would make a native New Yorker homesick for the streets of Manhattan. Also special to Nicholson’s is their “create it yourself flights”. For a very modest sum, you can taste three single malts in one ounce samples. A brilliant idea that allows one to experiment with no risk of being stuck with an almost full bottle that is too far from one’s palate to ever be opened again. Milady and I passed a pleasant late afternoon sampling Scotland’s finest – and it never would have happened if the TSA permitted flasks. Serendipity in action. 

Everyone knows I have a winetooth. (It’s just like having a sweet tooth, but instead of a sugar high with the threat of dental caries, I get a hangover with the threat of a serious brain damage.) So it was natural that during our brief sojourn in Bordeaux, a vineyard visit and wine tasting was a requirement. Milady graciously consented and made the arrangements through the concierge at the hotel. Oliver, who had driven us in from the airport the previous day was our driver and guide. He met us at the hotel, settled us in the car, and as he drove he shared his knowledge of the Acquitane with us. It seems that the same region which gave us Eleanor also blesses us with fine wines. (If you don’t know who Eleanor was, I suggest a brief review of your World History I notes – there will be a quiz.)

St. Emilion is on the right bank of the Garonne, about 30 minutes from downtown Bordeaux. You reach it by driving through a bazillion tiny plots covered in grapevines. St. Emilion is proud of having lots and lots of small vineyards, even if some of them are owned by the same chateaux. Unlike the Medoc, which is the Left Bank, it does not have the 1855 Classification system, it has its own. The 1855 system was set in place by Napolean II and features an incredibly rigid, almost never ever reviewed differentiation by virtue of a vineyard’s merits at that time. The Right Bank system is equally arcane in its organization but has the virtue of decennial reviews, making its participants more interested in upholding quality standards than tradition. St. Emilion is a small, very hilly village with impossibly narrow cobblestone streets and more négociants (wine merchants) than anyone could imagine.

We opted to start our visit with a tour of the underground of St. Emilion. This involved a steep street, a deluge (the likes of which Louis XIV may have alluded to), a motley tour group and a guide named “Fabian”. The first stop is the alleged cave of Mr. Emilion (he didn’t get sainted until after he died) which he called home for the nineteen years he lived there as a hermit. It’s a nice enough cave, with a little rock sleeping platform, a freshwater catch basin (no hot water) and a built-in stone chair. The chair is reputed to have a special feature which should appeal to rightwing conservatives – if you sit in it and want a child, you will become pregnant – but only if you’re female. Mr. Emilion didn’t have a desk that I could see and never bothered to sign up for electricity or phone service – let alone high speed internet. Still, there wasn’t a lot of drippiness even with the torrential rain so I surmise the roof was still sound. The next stop on Fabian’s tour (his voice was OK, but his English pronunciation was unique, and it clearly wasn’t a farewell tour so no one kept asking him to reprise his golden oldies) was the crypts. Nice crypts, but once you’ve seen one crypt the next two thousand are pretty similar. From there we proceeded to the largest monolithic church in Europe. The monolith referred to is not theological, but rather structural. It was carved from a single limestone rock – and a really big rock at that because the main chapel is 19 meters by 38 meters with a ceiling height of 11 meters. Someone forgot to file building plans, so when a bell tower was added above ground, the supporting pillars were found to be insufficient to bear the added weight of the off-center tower, and began to crack. In 1999 engineers working as part of the UNESCO World Heritage project designed trusses to reinforce the pillars. The project was expensive, but private funding to do the work was obtained from an unlikely source. Now, every guide finishes his spiel with “and we are grateful to American Express for paying for and continuing to sponsor the supporting scaffolding. Don’t leave church without it”

Now we were free to get down to the serious businesses of vintner visiting and wine tasting. As the vineyards are small and outside the city, vintners do most of the production outside the city, usually at the chateau which owns the small plots. Most growers sell their wines through merchants. The Bordeaux futures market has been in existence for a very long time, and while Chateau Petrus may have withdrawn, it remains a powerful force – not only by providing a central market for the dozens of small, independent chateaux but also providing the financing mechanism through the sale of wine not yet ready for release. Tastings, therefore, are best arranged by négociants whose connections obviate the need to travel from chateau to chateau (and reduce the accident potential, because after a few tastes, the narrow winding roads and high speeds preferred by local drivers, present a hazard to the most dedicated tasters). Negotiating the négociants and finding the right one to ship home one’s precious bottles is best left to the professionals – and Oliver was on target with his choice.

We met Cedric, our négociant extrodinaire, at his place of business, the firm of Ets Martin & Cie. in downtown St. Emilion, to begin our private tour and tasting. We walked a short distance (yes, uphill in the rain) to the gates of Couvent de Jacobains, a vintner which does not offer tours to the general public. On our arrival, we discovered why. The Couvent is the private home of Mme. Borde, an energetic 78 year old woman who is the third generation of her family to make wine there. The winery was originally home to an order of Benedictine monks, the same order which claims St. Emilion as a brother. When the revolution came (in 1789) the house and grounds were expropriated by the Republic and in due course sold. We toured the cellars, including Mme.’s private collection which contains notable vintages going back to 1947. Cedric walked us through the production steps and was delighted we were present for the bottling and stacking of the 2012 wine. The Couvent de Jacobins produces only 30,000 bottles each year – at 10,000 bottles per day, the bottling and stacking requires only 3 days, so getting to see it was a special bit of luck. The wine is removed from the French oak barrels in which it has been aging (330 bottles to the barrel) for the last year or so. Knowing just when to bottle after oaking is part of the vintner’s art, and why Mme. B is who she is. The oaked wine is returned to the winery’s huge ceramic vats (something that can only be used in a small craft winery – the big guys all use stainless steel). It then travels, gravity propelled, through a hose, to the bottling machine. The bottling machine measures out 75cl into each bottle, and a live human being takes the bottle and moves it to the corking machine. The bottle is corked with a real cork whose top clearly displays “2012”, but is not foiled or labeled. (That will happen only when the wine is released for sale because the humidity in the cave will cause the label to come off the bottle). From there it is placed by another human on a wagon and lugged to the caves. Two really big guys with sure hands remove each bottle from the wagon and lay them side by side in the cellar niche designated for 2012 production.

After visiting the cellars, we walked through Madame’s rose garden which was originally the monks’ contemplative garden, and back into the real world. A brief stroll took us back to Ets Martin where we descended to the private tasting room. I realized that the human male was in deep trouble – the private tour and private tasting room signaled Cedric’s keen sense of the presence of a proto-oenphile. As we sat at the table, Cedric solicited the information that Milady prefers reds over whites, and that wine is an important food group in our household. We tasted eight wines and settled on the purchase of six; 5 from St. Emilion and 1 Pomerol. If you really want to know what we added to the cellar, here’s the list: 2004 and 2009 Couvent de Jacobins (Grand Cru Classe), 2005 Beausejour Becot (1er Grand Cru Classe), 2008 Clos Dubreuil (Grand Cru), and the Pomerol is 2010 Clos de la Vielle Eglise.

The tasting was an experience – the distinctive flavors and weights prompted discussions about food pairings, and resulted in the purchase of two mixed cases. Milady acquitted herself with great honor, accurately describing flavors and relative merits and charming Cedric who, after the wine was paid for, presented her with a small vial of sel de bordeaux, a salt mixture infused (how else would it get into the salt?) with Bordeaux wine. The salt is a charming purple and matches the stains on my winetooth.

Having left a small fortune (I now understand the phrase “king’s ransom” in its original French context) with Cedric, we returned to the car. Oliver, having earlier discussed with Milady the virtues of macaroons made in St. Emilion using the recipe of a 16th century nun, presented her with a box of them. As we rode home in triumph (actually a BMW 750) we shared the cookies and planned our dinner (see Le Pressoir d’Argent for a review of that meal).