IT seems incongruous, but I am sitting down to pen my last blog for Here, I partook in an ancient tea ceremony where I learned that not only that tea is good for you, but apparently so is red wine.
Just sayin. Just as the weather started to cool down in Brisbane in March, my travel schedule started to heat up. In one week I visited Singapore, Indonesia and Vietnam. In Indonesia, in my four-poster bed, replete with white chiffon curtains, I imagined I was an Indonesian High Priestess. I arrived at the Banyan Tree Bintan Island in my usual disheveled state, the effects of some aeroplane turbulence as we crossed the Equator, a reasonable swell on the ferry as we sailed across the South China Sea, several prescription drugs and red wine to fuel my travels, all beginning to wear off.
I was home for a grand total of three daysโฆenough time to wash and repack my undiesโฆ before I was on a plane to Rabaul in Papua New Guinea. Having exhausted every possibility or hope of ever finding the man of my dreams in Australia, I cast the net wider.
While I was in PNG writing a series of travel stories, never let it be said that I waste any opportunity to find love. I am planning a return visit any day now. In April, my sister and me escaped to Fiji for a short Easter break where we indulged in snorkelling, swimming and sunshine while gracefully fanning away hot weather and men who were hot for us the last element of that sentence is simply not true. The highlight of this three-hour tour occurred Brett husked a coconut for me to drink.
It did not take much for me to disappear into fantasyland, picturing the man of my dreams clad only in loin cloth, presenting me with a husked coconut. Sensing my sexual fantasy, the happily-married Brett promptly disappeared in the rainforest, never to be seen by me again. While there were a number of domestic trips in May back to Port Douglas and the Sunshine Coast , the absolute highlight was travelling to Vienna to cover Eurovision.
