From top: the meeting point at the main train station (a common place where anyone in Melbourne will meet others; we flew in); Dave standing in our little apartment (bedroom is behind Dave); and one of the very modern buildings in downtown Melbourne.

When we were on our journey throughout Australia – did I mention we were on a tour with a max of 16 people, with OAT (Overseas Adventure Travel), a part of Grand Circle? In one of my other posts I know I mentioned that this tour – called Ultimate Australia was an active one – not as active as a group of athletes would be, but for oldsters like us, it was active. Some in our group were far more active than we were. Dave, with his artificial legs, kept up with most activities – he was amazing, really. Occasional days (usually when we were traveling somewhere else) we didn’t have active walks, but most days we took walks of a  mile, or up to about three maybe.

Anyway, after touring Tasmania for nearly a week, when we flew from Launceston to Melbourne all of us needed clean clothes. Oh, were we ever happy campers to stay in a residence hotel, right in the heart of the city, where each unit had a washer/dryer combo. Some of us were more successful than others with using it, though. Our clothes washed, but never dried, but since we were there for 2 1/2 days, everything dried, draped everywhere.

We walked all over Melbourne, back and forth, here and there. And one morning we visited the Queen Victoria Market. Pictures below, and that’s Tasmanian fresh wild salmon bottom right.

Another day we visited the Old Melbourne Gaol (jail). THAT was really interesting. They used some fairly ugly techniques. The cells were incredibly small. None had windows or daylight.

There’s a photo taken from the ground floor looking up at the 2nd and 3rd levels. Each cell was about 5×9 feet, I’d guess. Some had hard wood doors; others had bars. This was before the era of soundproofing, so every noise could be heard. Down at the far end on the left was the hanging place (inside, see in photo below). Back during the era of this prison people believed in phrenology (the study of the brain – size and shape related to behavior), so nearly every prisoner had a death mask made (death masks are done post mortem) and the heads were studied as part of this phrenology movement. The most notorious of the prisoners was the famous bushranger Ned Kelly of the Kelly Gang. He was imprisoned and hung at the Melbourne Gaol in 1880 (his death mask is pictured below). The man has received nearly cult status in Australia – some people revere him like a folk hero (kind of like Robin Hood). Others, of course, know he was an Australian gangster.

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I interrupt this ongoing travelogue from our trip, to just tell you a little bit about our Thanksgiving this year. Since Dave had heart bypass surgery just 9 days ago, celebrating Thanksgiving was not all that high on my order of things to devote time to. Eat some of it: yes. Cook it myself? No. Although giving thanks to God that my dear hubby survived this surgery is/was in order!

Our son Powell and his wife Karen and our grandson did come for several hours that day and brought some lovely food. We had a potato/cauliflower casserole, a delicious parsnip and apple mash (Karen’s going to give me the recipe and I’ll share it), some soup made by her sister, Janice (recipe to come). I made one of my old-standby salad dressings to go on a simple green salad. A neighbor bought a Costco pumpkin pie for me (I think their pumpkin pies are just wonderful). Karen brought some already-whipped cream, and some cranberry relish (she used my recipe that I’ve made for years), some guacamole and chips too. I made gravy from the drippings in the roasting pan (removing 90% of the fat). No salt needed as the kosher brining provided sufficient sodium. We didn’t have mashed potatoes. We didn’t have stuffing. We didn’t have sweet potatoes. No peas. No green bean casserole, either. I didn’t miss them. At least not this year, although I never make green bean casserole – I just threw that in to see if you were still reading my blog!

There’s a funny story to tell about the turkey . . . last week I stopped at Trader Joe’s one evening on my way home from the hospital and bought a few things, including a 15 1/2 pound kosher turkey. On Thanksgiving I let the turkey sit out at room temp for an hour or two, put it onto my roasting pan with Teflon v-shaped rack. Feeling no particular desire to research the latest and greatest turkey roasting methods, I took a quick glance in one of my Thanksgiving cookbooks and thought I’d committed to memory (albeit quickly) what I needed to do. I coated the bird with some canola oil, plopped it in the pan breast side down, preheated the oven to 500. Into the oven it went. After 50 minutes the oven was smoking, so I turned the temp down to 325 and the bird was turned over breast side up. The meat thermometer had been inserted and I went about working on other things about the dinner, assuming we’d have another 1 1/2 hours to go. Exactly 30 minutes later (so the bird had been in the oven for 1 1/2 hours total) the bird was done. It was supposed to take about 2 1/2 hours. Done in 1 1/2 hours? Huh? I stuck the meat thermometer into the thigh. Also done. Wiggled the leg. Moved some. Yup, done. We removed it, put it on the carving board, loosely covered it for about 45 minutes while Karen and I whipped up the rest of dinner. Served. Delicious, all of it.

Then I glanced at the Thanksgiving book again. Uhm. I was supposed to leave the temp at 500 for just 30 minutes, not 50. No wonder the kitchen was smoking! But, you know what? It was delicious nevertheless. Not dry or chewy. I probably won’t try that again, but it’s amazing how resilient turkey can be!

Friday I couldn’t wait to have a turkey sandwich. For lunch I made a half a sandwich and Dave and I shared it, so we each got 1/4 of a turkey sandwich. Good wheat grain bread that I buy regularly from Corner Bakery, Best Foods mayonnaise, a generous dollop of the cranberry-apple-orange relish, some slices of moist, tender turkey breast and some fresh arugula from Karen’s garden. I think I enjoy the turkey sandwiches from the leftover turkey almost as much as the big turkey feast on Thanksgiving Day itself. How about you?

PS – thanks to all of you who have emailed me or commented on my blog about my hubby. He’s healing, although slowly. Understandably, open heart surgery is extremely hard on the body. He keeps thinking he’ll just wake up one morning and feel as good as new. Sorry, no, my dear! As a Type 1 diabetic (he’s been insulin dependent now for 63 years) heart disease is a common side effect. He’s been lucky to not have any kidney issues or eye problems. He’s got vascular disease, though (that’s why he lost both legs below the knee in the last 10 years) and he had a heart attack in 1997 (two stents). I knew yesterday that he was feeling better however, because he wanted a glass of red wine at 5 pm. We had a fabulous bottle of wine on Thanksgiving Day – a Foxen pinot noir. Dave said he didn’t know what he was saving it for (it’s a pricey wine, to be sure). We four adults enjoyed it immensely.

A year ago: Rum Raisin Apple Cake with Apricot Glaze

Two years ago: Cabbage and Noodles

Three  years ago: Turkey Gravy

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Did I tell you that visiting Cradle Mountain in northern Tasmania was one of the highlights of the entire 28 day trip? And did I tell you that probably 3 out of every 4 days the sun doesn’t shine on Cradle Mountain? So you can see why getting that photo above is so startling, so unusual, and so special! After traveling nearly all day (by small bus) we arrived at the Cradle Mountain Lodge, a gorgeous resort within the Cradle Mt – Lake St Clair National Park.

We had a beautiful room overlooking a small pond (see view of pond below, top right). Fantastic food in the Lodge was provided. That night about 9pm we took a night tour in an elongated truck/jeep thing to see all the nocturnal animals as they were feeding. That was truly fun (I didn’t even take my camera along as the animals were all about 30+ feet away and dimly lit), so I have nothing to show for it except a photo of the truck!

The next morning we took a nature walk (separate from the 20 some available within the National Park) around the Lodge, then drove to see Cradle Mountain itself.

The day we were en route to Cradle Mountain we stopped in the town of Ross. I remember reading about Ross (one of the early prisoner-developed towns in central Tasmania), and Marilyn, our guide, told us where she was going to have lunch, at the Ross General Store. Most of us followed right along behind her and Dave and I shared a salmon and brie pie (like a Cornish pasty, but with salmon and brie instead) and oh was it ever good! The dessert at bottom right is something called a “vanilla slice.” A kind of vanilla custard between two layers of pastry. I can’t say it was one of my favorite things, but it’s beloved by Aussies. Meat and vegetable pies were on menus nearly everywhere we went in both Australia and New Zealand. Every single one of them I had was really delicious.

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While in central Tasmania we visited a wildlife park called Bonorong. It’s a small place supported only by donations. They rescue abandoned young animals – usually because the mothers were killed by a car. The park personnel try to rehabilitate the animals so they can return to the wild, but that doesn’t always work. They also are raising many young Tasmanian Devils because the population of these animals in the wild is being decimated by an infectious facial tumor/cancer that kills them. Several wildlife parks in Tasmania are raising young that are not infected and will remain in captivity (but isolated) until this awful cancer has run its course. So here were the animals we saw:

Pictures L-R, top to bottom: A aging male koala. Did you know that koalas have a cartilege plate (called a carapace) on their rear ends? No wonder they can sit for hours on end in the fork of a tree? And did you know that koalas are really quite dumb? About all they know how to do is find and chew eucalyptus leaves (that’s all they eat), climb up and down trees, sleep (about 20 hours a day) and mate. The young male koalas sit in trees and wait for the available females to come to them. Hmmm.  Bennett’s Wallabies or Kangaroos. Bennett’s are smaller and have a multi-color coat. Young ones were very skittish about taking feed from our hands. I loved feeding the kangaroos – they’re very dainty as they hold down your palm to get at the goodies you have. A young Tasmanian Devil. The group we observed were young and they were just learning their charge and scare tactics. They scream and snarl at one another, although they’re mostly all bluff, we were told. However, don’t ever, EVER get in the way of a Tassie Devil and its food! Because they’re carrion scavengers, they’re usually the lowest in the pecking order, so they’ve adapted to eat bones. That’s just what they do – imagine the strength of those jaws! Tassie Devils screaming at one another. It’s all part of the eating ritual of protecting the food they’re scavenging. Cape Bretton Geese. Nearly all, if not all Australian birds are not winged as they have no natural predators. And lastly, a wombat. These guys, marsupials (and nocturnal) were a favorite at this park – they’re just so cute. But they have almost superhuman strength. If they need to, they can run (scamper, really) at nearly 40mph. They have unbelievably strong teeth (they’re similar to a badger) to chew and cut plants (they’re herbivores). Generally they’re docile with humans, especially if they’ve been raised in captivity. They also have a cartilage carapace (on their rear ends) because their method of avoiding their predators (usually dingoes) is to run into a hollowed log (or a hole) with just their back end sticking out. Predators can’t access any soft tissue and usually give up in frustration. If a predator happens to outlast the wombat, the wombat will allow the predator to climb in on their backs, then the wombat jams and whacks the predator into the top wall of their hole or tree trunk until it’s dead. Wombats are intelligent in case you hadn’t guessed.

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Picture: the small inner harbor at Port Arthur, the 200 year old prison where early  prisoners were sent from Britain. Such British prisoners had been sent to America, but because of the American Revolution, the British had to find another destination for its worst felons. First it was Australia, then Tasmania starting in 1803. We took a boat ride on that white boat you see in the distance.

Since I assume most of you don’t know a whole lot about Tasmania, I’ll give you a little history lesson. Hobart is a small city, the capital, at the south end of the island of Tasmania, which is off the southernmost tip of Australia. When we flew from Los Angeles, after 15 1/2 hours we landed in Melbourne, then took another flight to Hobart where we stayed for a few days. We took a long walk around the city itself, visited the Salamanca Market (a once a week event, beloved by the locals), visited the old convict camp, Port Arthur, and toured some of the pristine coastal bays in and around Hobart. Since the island is closer to the Antarctic than the mainland of Australia, it’s cooler there. You can see lots of pine trees in the photo at top.

Originally it was called Van Diemen’s Land. And the books (novels) I’d read in the past all called it such, the name given to it by Abel Tasman in 1642 when he landed on the island. Later it reverted to Tasmania to honor its founder. Aboriginal people lived there, but it was an unknown to the western world at that time. It’s 150 miles long – that’s all.

And I’d suppose not a lot of people go to Tasmania – it’s on some of the extended Australia tours, but it’s not exactly mainstream Australia. Lots of Aussies have never been there. My reason was because of a book I read many years ago, a novel called Morgan’s Run, by Colleen McCullough. It’s about the British prisoners who were sent to Tasmania, there at Port Arthur. It’s about their captivity, about a few of the prisoners, their stories (probably based on fact), but eventually the prisoners were released, the island was developed and grew because of the prisoners and the families they eventually created there.

I vowed that one day, I’d visit Tasmania. Just because. It sounded so unique. And was it ever! Dave and I just loved Tasmania. Not that we’d want to live there – probably not – but it was a glorious place to visit.

Clockwise from top right: tessellated pavement, a unique geological phenomenon that exists in two places in the world, where flat sedimentary rock erodes as if it’s been carved, like tiles, but it’s natural (see further photo below); remains of the church at Port Arthur; wattleseed flowers; the main prison building remains at Port Arthur; a lovely water view near Port Arthur; a natural ocean arch near Port Arthur; more tessellated pavement.

Here’s another photo, a real close-up, of the tessellated pavement which I downloaded from Wikipedia. It’s amazing to me that the creation of this is natural.

More photos and more stories tomorrow or the next day of Tasmania.

Here’s one more photo that didn’t mean much because we didn’t see any of the penguins while we were there. But because the little guys like to cross the road near this, they put up a nice warning sign to watch for them. Where we come from in Southern California, to even see a sign such as this is just hilarious!

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Just a short update for all of you who regularly read my blog. My husband (my DH, dear husband) came home from the hospital yesterday (Tuesday) after his double heart bypass surgery. It boggles my mind that he had open heart surgery on Friday afternoon and on Tuesday he came home! I won’t say it’s been exactly easy taking care of him – he’s not able to do much yet – but he’s recovering well. Sleeping a LOT (good thing) and in a moderate amount of pain (managed with meds). Getting up and down from a regular height chair is probably the most difficult and painful thing he has to do. As a double amputee he must use his arms more than able-bodied people and with the incision and sternum cracking they had to do, everything is tight and painful in or near his chest. He IS grateful to be alive right now (and so am I, obviously), but I won’t give you a photo at the moment – he’s not exactly a happy camper yet and there aren’t any smiles suitable for broadcasting! Maybe in a few days.

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Allow me to set the stage. We flew home from New Zealand last Tuesday (4 days ago), arriving via dateline change on Tuesday morning at LAX. A friend picked us up and we drove to our home about an hour away. I carried in the carry-on bags and Dave unloaded the big suitcases we took on this trip. I mean, 28 days away from home, you need more clothes! Each suitcase was 50 pounds including Dave’s 2nd set of prosthetic legs and 2 bottles of wine in each bag (they made it fine).

Dave felt some chest pain and just thought he was overexerting himself. (He didn’t tell me that it lasted for an HOUR for criminy sakes.) I threw all my dirty clothes on the laundry room floor, took a shower and Dave said he wanted to go grocery shopping. I asked him how he was feeling. All right, I think he said. He went, then unloaded his suitcase. I fixed us some lunch eventually and I even got far enough to post a blog piece. Then Dave called his cardiologist’s office (my DH had a heart attack in 1997 and has 2 stents) but they told him to go to the E.R. So we did. They weren’t sure. Dave had had one little, short bout of chest pain when we were in Australia, but it went away immediately. He gave it little thought.

Anyway, to cut to the chase (this story could take 3 more paragraphs if I let myself) on Wednesday they did an angiogram and in the recovery room he had a heart attack. A fairly major one. They’d found 2 blockages and some calcification. Yesterday Dave got a double bypass, and he came through it with flying colors, I must say. As I write this on Saturday night at 7:30, it’s a few more than 24 hours since he HAD the bypass surgery and he walked a couple hundred feet down the hallway and back. He’s having typical symptoms of cardiac post-op they say (weakness, dizziness). He got one unit of blood today because he’s anemic. And he was beginning to kid and joke with the nurses, so I know he’s on the right road to recovery. So, that’s why I haven’t blogged. That’s why I haven’t even looked at a single one of our trip pictures except the one at top taken in Queenstown, New Zealand with Dave wearing his Aussie leather hat. That’s why I haven’t cooked a single meal. (I’ve eaten cold cereal each morning – that’s it.)  That’s why I haven’t even gone through our 28 days of held mail. Now it’s about 32 days of mail. That’s why I hardly know what day it is. It’s why we still have piles of laundry here and there. It’s why I haven’t even turned on the heat here in the house yet (why bother? I’m at the hospital nearly all day). It’s why my suitcase is still resting on the guest room bed. Not unpacked yet. All of our kids have been here – supporting their dad and propping me up. Amazingly, jet lag hasn’t bothered me too much. Am sure natural adrenaline has something to do with that.

I’ll be back to posting just as soon as I have time. Our plans for Thanksgiving have been changed. You think? He may still be in the hospital. Don’t know at this point. He might be coming home that day too. In every thing I do, though, I know God had a hand in this. Otherwise Dave wouldn’t have had this heart attack 2 hours after we got home.

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This recipe was written up just before we left on our long trip, so I’ll ease you back into some easy Mexican cooking . . . although the ingredients here are similar to a Mexican layered dip (you know, the refried beans, sour cream, salsa, etc.) – and I suppose those are the origins here, there’s nothing in this that’s spicy hot. No chile powder, or chili flakes. It’s just wholesome good stuff – beans, cilantro, a bit of feta, roasted red bell peppers. The only higher fat stuff is the sour cream and yogurt. Because it’s what I had on hand, I used full-fat sour cream and low-fat yogurt. It might be fine with fat-free too.

Read the rest of this entry »

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We’re home from our long trip. Since I have hours of work to do on photos before I begin uploading some stories from out month-long odyssey, I thought I’d just give you this one. I learned something from an article I read about packing – I wrote up about it before we left – Advice for Travel Packing. One of the suggestions was to put all of your things needed at your seat during a flight in a plastic bag so they don’t get lost in the pocket in front of you. That’s what I did. It made it SO helpful to have everything at hand. The only thing missing from the photo was the shawl/wrap I kept over me through the entire return flight – the plane was SO cold.

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There will be a whole bunch of posts I’ll need to make once we get home and I have time to cull through all the photos and write up some stories about our adventures in the last 4-5 days.

As I write this, it’s our last day in New Zealand and we’re headed home. Currently we’re in Queenstown – on the south island, fairly down south on it – we’re actually at the 45th parallel (mid way between the equator and the South Pole). It’s crisper weather here, almost cold, although it is expected to get up to 18 C (that’s about 66 F) today, and maybe with some rain showers. We have been SO fortunate with weather on our entire trip – we had just a few showers when we were in Tasmania and that’s about it.

People who visit the Millford Sound experience 2 out of every 3 days in rain. We were there in perfect sunshine as you can see from the photo at top. I took over 100 photos yesterday, although relatively few of them ON the Sound. Technically the Sound is not a sound – it’s a fiord (here they spell the word with an i versus the Norwegians who spell it with a j as in fjord) but somebody long ago named it and it just stuck despite the technicalities.

I was not feeling very well (car and sea sickness) our day on the Sound. Not only did we take a 5 1/2 hour bus ride to GET there, then we did a 2 1/2 hour boat ride (about half of it on somewhat choppy water), then we got back on the bus and had another 4 hour ride back to Queenstown. I was “this close” to losing it at least half the day. I didn’t, but I certainly was woozy and queasy for about 12 hours.  So I didn’t take as many pictures as I wanted to. Somebody else in our group got photos of the Fiordland Crested Penguins, so will need to wait until I have a copy of that to share with you.

So, I’ll be back in a day or so with some new posts – stay tuned.

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