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