Homeward bound (Noosa)

Today is all about being in transit. An 11:30am pick-up at the hotel, drive to Maroochydore airport and a 1:40pm Jetstar flight to Sydney which should land, in a perfect Jetstar world at 3:20pm. We should be back on the balcony at Redfern by 4pm. In a perfect world.

But first to last night's dinner. We chose to eat at Seasons which is an a la carte restaurant on the beach. It's the place we chose for our final night here in 2011. A good choice then and now. Sitting at table nearby was David Williamson, Australia's best known (and probably most prolific) playwright. According to this morning's paper he is here for the opening of his play Cruise Control.

The view looking East

Seasons has the most beautiful setting and Noosa Beach really comes into its around sunset when the crowds are heading home. It is quiet and peaceful and any noise is washed away by the sounds of the waves lapping at the shore. The photos were taken with my iPhone because I left the camera back at the apartment.

Looking west along the beach

We enjoyed the meal and the wine as the sun went down. Then walked back over to Nitrogenie to try another variety of ice cream.  There is no doubt that the ice cream is the creamiest I've tried, but it also melts very quickly which would be an issue for young children or during the heat of the day. We both opted for Chocolate Roughy and much like the previous night it promised so much but didn't quite reach expectations. Whereas last night's was ice cream with honeycomb cracked through it, this was chocolate ice cream with coconut. Ah well, the holiday and the experiment are over, won't be trying that again.

Closer to sunset

This morning brings cloud and later, possibly rain, so we are making our getaway at the right time, although the weather in Sydney will take some adjusting to next week with tops below 20° celsius. Again we opted to try somewhere new for breakfast and ended up at 10 Hastings. The coffee was good, the sourdough just doesn't live up to Bourke St Bakery standards and it is not possible to get a freshly squeezed orange juice in this town. Clearly not trending. My OJ came in a jar (again) with a waxed straw - now that is seriously old school. So if we do waxed straws, why can't we do freshly squeezed OJ?

Back to the apartment to finish packing, write some more of this blog and take some snaps of some feathered friends who hang around the balcony. Given the purpose of this break was to ensure a complete rest from work related issues for a few days, I declare it a success. However, if you are not a beach person and do not have your own transport, then Noosa could prove a little challenging for you. If you are happy to walk slowly, to sit and read and to enjoy the cafes and restaurants then Noosa is definitely a destination you should seek. Of course, you could always mix it up; there are plenty of activities in nearby areas: day trips to Fraser Island, parachuting, fishing - I get tired just thinking about it.

Looking for dinner

A honey eater after a bath

And so we are home. It's 4:30pm, Jetstar was late arriving on the Sunshine Coast and was subsequently late arriving in Sydney. No surprises for anyone. Uneventful and predictable down to the lateness. Happy to home and back on our balcony. Until next time ...

The view from home

Redfern station

Message in a bottle (Noosa)

Ok, not message but massage (it's all in the pronunciation daaahhrrling) and not in a bottle but at Sensaura ... ahhhhhhhhhh, if only I could have a massage in a bottle, yeah.

We opted not to have dinner last night, but whiled the evening away with nibblies, wine, reading and of course MKR. Jayne's addicted. For a break from the hotel suite, we decided to have the obligatory holiday resort ice cream. We had tried the Copenhagen cones the night before which were underwhelming in the gustatory enjoyment they provided. Tonight, we ventured to the shop front with multicoloured incandescent cubes for seats which sports the name Nitrogenie. Here you order from a flavour menu to be served one of 2 sized cups or a waffle cone filled with what is claimed to be the most creamy, all natural, frozen confectionary on the planet.  Having selected our 2 out of this world flavours, we then watched as they concocted the fresh ingeredients in over-sized mixing bowls and then started the beaters to make our ice creams - a rather labour intensive way to make a buck since our experience of making ice cream is that you need to allow several hours of freezing, mixing and re-freezing to get the desired result.

We thought we were in for an all nighter until suddenly the just-out-of-primary-school asssitants whirled over to a gigantic gas bottle filled with liquid nitrogen and amid lots of vapour and pizzazz, they added copious amounts of this very 'natural' substance to our ice cream mixtures.  After some more beating and clouds of vapour, it looked like a scene form a horror movie, 2 cones of ice cream were produced and consumed.

Not yet sure if they have poisoned us but the Nitrogenie ice creams were the best we have consumed for creaminess.  Will be back for farewell cones this evening and to try 2 new flavours.  Brad is thinking of asking them to burn off a couple of skin cancers while we wait, for good measure.

A container of liquid nitrogen behind the shop.

After retiring to the hotel again, around 10pm a man with a drill began disturbing the peace. He was working on something at the back of the Nitrogenie shop that is between us and Hastings Street. Thankfully it didn't last long although Jayne complained of him banging around at 11:30 - I slumbered on blissfully unaware. (Is it confusing for your gentle reader if we alternate the narrative voice? I hope not. Generally it is me, although Jayne sometimes adds her thoughts prior to publication).

I rose with the sun again this morning (no picutres, sorry) and I must report that I am enjoying it. Having moved to a north-west facing apartment last November the sun plays no part in waking me and I need to go out on the balcony to see what the day is doing. 6:30am I read the paper online, cleared some email and completed our online check-in for tomorrow's flight home, only to later read that it was a pointless exercise and I would still need to check-in at the airport. Ah Jetstar!! I can't wait for the opportunity to fly with another airline.

After getting organised for the day we headed in a different direction down Hastings Street to search for breakfast and ended up at a cafe in the French quarter. Ironically there is a lot of Italian influenced eateries in the French quarter. Before we sat down Jayne asked did they do freshly squeezed juice. "We do organic fresh juices" he replied. Just like home I thought and we selected a table. There is a lesson here dear reader, never trust someone from your own generation who is so desperate to be a part of the current one. Our waiter had a spacer in his ear the size of a 10 cent piece, you could see through it quite clearly, which made me wonder if I turned him and his sad Hawaiian shirt side-on would I see through his ear to the restaurant beyond?

Where was I? Oh, yes, the juice. So, I had a jar - how hipster trendy... whatever happened to drinking out of a glass? - of organic juice Orange A. No oranges in sight. Or taste. It was carrot, apple, lemon and cucumber. Tick that experience off the bucket list, no need to revisit that. Who comes up with this stuff? Cut to two hipsters sitting in the back of restauarnt drawling to each other: "hey Codey I've got a great idea for a new drink. What about we blend chilli, cactus, kale and broccoli and add some lemon juice?" "Ohhh, Brayden that's just a super-awesome idea. We could call it Green Bee because it has a sting in its tail." Have a shave and move on. Hipster or homeless? Who can tell?

Anyway the coffee was the best I've had in recent times and the bacon, tomato and sourdough was lovely. Back home for a little more reading then another lap of Hastings Street and the beach before a massage. 

The beach walk once again confirmed a number of things for me.

1. Speedos are inappropriate anywhere, anytime, well perhaps in the comfort of your own home between consenting adults; or in championship swimming or diving events. This has been confirmed by a number of people over the past few days from 20 somethings with 6 packs through to middle-aged men who should know better. Neither six-pack nor the butch dog they were walking enhanced the speedos.

2. The sun is not your friend no matter what colour or tone your skin. We have seen leather tanned faces, people in their 50s with skin that looked 80, white skinned people frying themselves and turning lobster-pink. Tans may be fashionable on the young but look to the older generations for its full effect. As disgusting as sunscreen is, the message is clear, slip, slop, slap and stay out of the sun as much as possible.

3. A good massage is heaven. Today we both had an excellent massage and couldn't recommend Sensaura more highly next time you're in Noosa. Totally worth it. Anna even worked out my muscle soreness from the bushwalk last week. Even Jayne is now a convert.

Lunch on the balcony

And so to lunch on the balcony: pinot grigio, chips, peanuts and cheese. So civilised. This evening is an early dinner at a beachside restaurant we ate at last time we were here. Which menas this post will conclude in tomorrow's offerings, if for no other reason than I am going to read until dinner, or sleep, or a bit of both.

au demain

Feathers, fur and fins (Noosa)

Yep, we had a little difficulty coming up with a song reference for this post. Your thoughts and suggestions are most welcome. Maybe it should be 'feathers, burns and skin'. I await the avalanche of high brow thought.

Despite my misgivings about the possibility of a disturbed sleep due to the proximity of numerous squealing children, they settled with the sunset and the only things that woke me were the storm as it swept through and the morning sun. 

The view from our unit at night

You would know gentle reader that my darling wife likes to sleep in the equivalent of the bat cave, where any light is most unwelcome. Had I not seen her in daylight I might be swayed by Bram Stoker's musings on vampires. However, I digress. There were heavy curtains on one window in the bedroom and in the lounge area which also has a sofa bed. These were quite effective and of major importance as our unit faces almost due north. Sadly, there is one window without curtains, it has only timber venetians to shield us from the sunrise, or attempt to protect us from the morning light. Epic fail. At first, the light crept in like Dan and Leesh's dog Storm, creeping onto the lounge, and then - the sun was up and it arrived with blinding beams through the slats. There will be no sleeping-in here ... perhaps an afternoon nanna nap might be more in order. After the room has been serviced of course.

The view looking out

The view looking in

And so to breakfast. We meandered down the stairs and out to the forecourt where Aromas Noosa serve food and beverages from 6 am till late, whatever 'late' means. While not up to Bourke Street Bakery standards, the sourdough was OK as was the coffee. How difficult is it to get decent coffee in this country? The standards are so variable that Jayne has taken to drinking hot chocolate instead. Yes, another first world problem.

Aromas is desperately trying channel Paris with everything, down to the decor. The chairs are imitation cane and sit either side of a small round table. They are lined three rows deep facing Hastings Street after the style of a French cafe. It is quite enjoyable to spend the time sitting there watching the passing parade of locals and holiday makers, marvelling at the folly of young girls who think their bodies look resplendent with their sleeve tattoos. Old age is just around the corner and with it, sagging skin. I predict tattoo removal to be the growth industry of the next decade. That and an increase in the number of skin clinics to combat the damage done by the sun on unprotected skin. It's a pity that one generation cannot learn from the previous one; even I have embraced (well tolerate) sun screen in my later years. You don't have to look very far to see the impact of sun on the faces of some of the older inhabitants, much like any animal, our skin turns to leather once it has been cured and there is ample evidence of that walking along Hastings Street.  No amount of make up or expensive accessorising can hide it.

Wow - check out the surf.

After breakfast we went on the obligatory lap of Hastings Street and then up and down the boardwalk on the beach. No surf today although that probably pleased the crowd that was dominated by parents and young children. Sand castles abounded.

One of the locals on the boardwalk

 If you are not a beach person or a sun worshipper there is not a lot to do in Noosa and you would be well advised to explore the surrounding areas. Eumundi markets is worth a visit and there are plenty of other attractions - however, we are without transport and while our time away walking the streets and beach, sitting people watching and reading. We are here, after all, to de-stress before Monday's return to work. I plan to tackle nothing more complex or taxing than choosing where to eat and what to drink. Which reminds me, lunch ...

If you look close you can see the 3rd wave (CEDP joke)

The Surf Club balcony has a gorgeous view over the beach so we thought we might lunch there. The food is probably good pub grub and the servings are more than ample. They also have a good range and a small but intertesting wine list. In short, there is something for everyone.

One of the resident butcher birds at the Surf Club

Jayne had a burger reminiscent of a Gidget movie and I, unsurprisingly, had the seafood basket. With a bottle of Pinot Gris we settled in to eat, sip and watch the people traffic below and the impact of the butcher birds. They scared a number of patrons but didn't actually appear to reap any benefit, unlike the kookaburra on Great Keppel Island that was quite adept at stealing the meat from your hamburger when you were looking elsewhere.

We noted the dominance within our observed population of blondes and red heads.  As a result, we also saw a lot of unprotected skin and sunburn. We also commented on the decrease in inked skin in comparison with Sydney. Do you suppose people are more sensible up here? That's too funny to contemplate, being closer to the sun and all and the effect that would have, boiling your brain.

A slow walk down Hastings back to our to unit to read for a while, or more accuratley to sleep. After a nice nanna nap it's back to the books and the balcony. The sun has lost its heat and it is most pleasant sitting out here. The view is nothing to get excited about but we are protected from the noise of the main street and the noisy people traffic. The sound of the beach washes over everything else.

It's back to my book. I'm quite worried about that nice Mr Harker, he hasn't been the same since his trip to Transylvania and now his boss, Mr Hawkins has died unexpectedly ... oh dear, do you think there could be a connection?

au demain

Sorry (Noosa)

Warning: First world problem following. All text, no picutres.

Ahhh Jeststar! The airline you have when you're not having an airline. I surpassed frustration and even anger today at Sydney Domestic airport, terminal 2 and moved into sympathy for the Jetstar employees. Hence the title of this post, I was sorry for them given that they had to smile and be patient and nice to the increasing number of disgruntled passengers who were waiting in the queue for the baggage drop.  Let's move back in time a little.

Our flight this morning was at 11:35 and sadly with Jetstar. This was not by choice. We never ever fly Jetstar by choice. We were flying to the Sunshine Coast and Qantas no longer flies that route. In his infinite wisdom, or lack thereof, the CEO of Qantas, Alan Joyce has signed the route over to Jetstar. So, if we want frequent flyer points we fly with the budget carrier.

Due to my extreme paranoia about being late for a flight, we left with plenty of time to spare - and it was just as well, because it took almost an hour to get through the baggage drop and security check into the terminal. I get queues, I get busy periods, I get school holiday crowds (occupational hazard) but I don't get poor planning, out-dated facilities and incompetence. You know how many planes you have leaving at any given time, you know how many tickets you've sold, I'm guessing it's not rocket science to work out when the peak times will be and staff it accordingly.

Not with Jetstar. And they have temerity to have signs everywhere informing passengers that they must check-in 30 minutes prior to departure. Many people in the serpentine queue had arrived within a reasonable time period and still found themselves running late.

It is 2015. We are in the technological age. I might remember a time without the internet or mobile phones but that is not our world now. We checked in online 48 hours or so before departure. We went to the kiosk and printed out bag tags and attached them. Then we asked the unhappy, unhelpful Jetstar employee where the self-drop baggage kiosk was - you know just like Qantas have. "Don't have one. You have bags to drop. Join the end of the queue" which was now snaking it's way towards the Virgin counters ... tempting.

So, we joined the queue and made friends with lots of other disgruntled travellers who also would prefer not fly Jetstar. As we slithered our way past the coffe stall towards the bag drop, the happy Jetstar employee came over and informed us that we needed to move our conga-line out the door! This caused some small measure of confusion as people coming through the door tried to join the queue. As we finally made our way to the cordoned area I looked back to see the line now stretching out the door and moving along side the drop off and taxi rank areas.

Given every passenger with bags had to endure this process, why do they bother to have online check-in? It mystifies me. As we reached the front of the queue I spoke with the female assistant directing people to individual counters - at banks they have a light that signifies their availablity. This is even possible with car spots at shopping malls, but not Jetstar - they yell "Next!" and wave a hand in the air which this lady spots and then directs you towards the latest hand waver. "How's your day been?" I enquired. "You really don't want to know," she replied as we were directed to the hand waver at counter 32. Leaving the 1980s behind we moved to the security check. Curiously, the line here was almost non-existent and we progressed quickly, surviving once again the ubiquitous explosives tester who always gets me as I wait for Jayne to re-assemble her belongings from the blue trays. Only a few steps from the 80s back to the 21st century.

Once inside I became even sadder as Jayne pointed out that there was no Qantas Lounge for us to wait in. No lounge, no free food, no champagne. Sad face :-( If Qantas force me to fly with another carrier then I should have the same benefits. I want my Qantas Lounge!

We decided to eat something because I (mistakenly as it turns out) believed that we had opted not to pre-purchase food on the plane. After a quick toastie - no queue - we strolled past the Wine Selectors stand and had a chat with the delightful young lady working there. We may also have tasted some wine. Purely to alleviate the frustration of standing so long in a queue that had no right to exist. And, OK, I purchased another dozen. Well it was on special and will be on the way to your place shortly Dave - lucky for us, you don't drink.

The flight was relatively uneventful. We had seats 1a and 1b. Sadly not First Class or even Business but they did afford extra legroom and, dear reader, you know how important that is with my height. The hostess informed us that we had pre-ordered food, well, it is called food on a plane. A mini pie and mini sausage roll from Pie Face. I now have an insight as to why they went into receivership.

Being in the front row we were able to watch the faces of the cabin staff as the plane landed. I believe they thought my 6/10 rating was a tad generous according to their visages.

And so a short shuttle ride to The Sebel at Noosa and I'm wondering already if I should have spent the extra cash and gone back to Netanya. Lots of children in the resort. We'll see.

A wander down Hastings Street to re-acquaint ourselves with the eateries and decide where we will dine tonight and a quick trip to the bottle shop for much needed supplies sees me now sitting on my balcony, sipping champagne and writing this blog as the sun sets. As I said at the outset, first world problems. It's a tough life, but someone has to keep the Queensland economy ticking over.

Incidentally, we last visited Noosa in 2011 and it was experiencing a bit of a downturn, a number of shops were vacant and restaurants that had been recommended to us had closed. We can report that in 2015 things are looking much better.

That might do for today's rant. The bubbles have mellowed my spirit and soon we shall turn our thoughts to dinner. I will endeavour to blog everynight, but make no promise, I am only half-way through Bram Stoker's Dracula and that will take precedence.

au demain