Yes, dear reader this post will cover both New Year's Eve and New Year's Day. Why, you ask? Well, nothing much happened aside from relaxing, eating and drinking. And today's title? Thankyou to Good Charlotte circa 2002. Well, somewhere in advertising they suggested that the rich and famous all end up at Port Douglas, so you may never know who you will see around here. My problem is I wouldn't recognise them. And if I did, hey, I'm Australian, so I won't acknowledge them anyway.
Following our big day tour of the Daintree and surrounds we thought we might have a chilled day close to home. Sunday is market day in Port Douglas so after a leisurely breakfast by the pool we applied sunscreen (yuk) and hats and sweated our way toward the far end of Macrossan Street where the market stalls inhabited the park. It was all one way traffic and, at one point, the path was blocked by people making a decision about whether they would enter a shop. As we stepped around the women, the man with them apologised. "Was that John Hewson?" Jayne asked. And yes it was.
The markets were remarkable by being unremarkable. Although they did have a slight FNQ flavour, I'm sure markets around Byron Bay would be similar. There were henna artists creating pseudo tattoos (for the sensible), tarot card readings, palm readings all the usual shysters. There were also massage therapists using crystals, hot stones and the like, and one stall offering Thai massage. It was quite open so I'm not sure how they ended the massage; perhaps not in the traditional Thai way. Not happy Jan.
There were the usual stalls all selling the same style of jewellery. The more noticeable one here was red coral, but sharks' teeth and crocodile teeth were also prominent. There were clothes, coffee, carved timber, an indigenous set up with boomerangs and the usual tourist draw cards. Not a lot of fresh produce except for it being squeezed into cups of juice or frozen, refreshing on a hot, humid day.
Being enticed to purchase nothing more than a cup of freshly squeezed OJ we turned back toward the main street and home, where once again we saw John Hewson.
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| The front of the hotel. The bar area. |
Post lunch and after a nana-nap (hey, it's tiring being on holiday), we went for a walk along the beach and watched a stupid tourist testing the theory about box jelly fish and crocodiles. Sadly for the gene pool, he lived, but perhaps only because his six year old daughter was becoming increasingly frantic with her cries for her father to come out, the further into the water he went. Watching the Osprey catching fish was far more interesting and there were several games of beach cricket being played.
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| The Low Isles |
The 8:30p.m. fireworks were going off as we went to bed and I heard the midnight fireworks as well as the illegal ones later in the night. Happy new year dear reader, I hope you have a wonderful 2018.
The new year dawned as has every other day since we arrived in Port Douglas. The early morning cloud burnt off quickly and the forecast storms have been pushed back another day. After the regular breakfast by the pool and new year chats with family on FB Messenger, we ventured into town to secure dinner for this evening. There was no guarantee as to what would be open or closed on New Year's Day.
We walked down to ANZAC Park where the markets were yesterday and which was also a prime position to watch last night's fireworks. Against all advice, in the water, up to his armpits was a man fishing. Clearly he was a local. Really? Have I been conned all this time about the dangers of being in the water up here at this time of year?
After pointlessly waiting for the fisherman to attacked by crocodiles or box jelly fish, we walked across the park to book for dinner at On the Inlet, the next on our recommended list of restaurants. Except they were not open. No note on the door, just closed. We then set out for our next choice, Salsa, except, stupidly, I believed my geographically challenged wife and turned in a direction away from the restaurant. So, Watergate, the next choice was located using Google. Dinner booking assured, we returned to the Court Hotel for refreshments and to phone my brother and wish him a happy new year.
It was pleasant at the Court, except for the Gen X people next to us who found it impossible to speak at normal volume. I kid you not, I could not hear what Jayne was saying when they were in full flight. At this point my beer was gone and it was time to replenish supplies so we moved to a different part of the beer garden where we could speak to each other without shouting. A cheese platter and a bottle of French rose was now the plan. Executed well.
Back to the hotel for some pool time and a nap before a beach walk and dinner.
Dinner tonight was at Watergate. Curiously I didn't see Nixon or Woodward and Bernstein. However, every other American in the country was there. Not that there is anything wrong wth that. I guess they would be drawn to a place named Watergate.
The restaurant is totally cool. It is a mixture of indoor and outdoor, bar and restaurant. The smell of citronella, which I assume is burning in each of the torches, pervades the air . The citronella and the indoor ceiling fans keep the mozzies at bay and also cool the place down - well the fans do, the torches add to the ambience.
This place has an eclectic menu and is seriously worth visiting. You can choose from meals with crocodile, cuttlefish and prawns for entree through to kangaroo, duck and fish for mains. Believe me, it is a lot more interesting than I have stated here. And tasty. Oh, yum.
And that is probably enough for today. I'm exhausted just eating and drinking my way through the day. Until tomorrow.
We walked down to ANZAC Park where the markets were yesterday and which was also a prime position to watch last night's fireworks. Against all advice, in the water, up to his armpits was a man fishing. Clearly he was a local. Really? Have I been conned all this time about the dangers of being in the water up here at this time of year?
After pointlessly waiting for the fisherman to attacked by crocodiles or box jelly fish, we walked across the park to book for dinner at On the Inlet, the next on our recommended list of restaurants. Except they were not open. No note on the door, just closed. We then set out for our next choice, Salsa, except, stupidly, I believed my geographically challenged wife and turned in a direction away from the restaurant. So, Watergate, the next choice was located using Google. Dinner booking assured, we returned to the Court Hotel for refreshments and to phone my brother and wish him a happy new year.
It was pleasant at the Court, except for the Gen X people next to us who found it impossible to speak at normal volume. I kid you not, I could not hear what Jayne was saying when they were in full flight. At this point my beer was gone and it was time to replenish supplies so we moved to a different part of the beer garden where we could speak to each other without shouting. A cheese platter and a bottle of French rose was now the plan. Executed well.
Back to the hotel for some pool time and a nap before a beach walk and dinner.
Dinner tonight was at Watergate. Curiously I didn't see Nixon or Woodward and Bernstein. However, every other American in the country was there. Not that there is anything wrong wth that. I guess they would be drawn to a place named Watergate.
The restaurant is totally cool. It is a mixture of indoor and outdoor, bar and restaurant. The smell of citronella, which I assume is burning in each of the torches, pervades the air . The citronella and the indoor ceiling fans keep the mozzies at bay and also cool the place down - well the fans do, the torches add to the ambience.
This place has an eclectic menu and is seriously worth visiting. You can choose from meals with crocodile, cuttlefish and prawns for entree through to kangaroo, duck and fish for mains. Believe me, it is a lot more interesting than I have stated here. And tasty. Oh, yum.
And that is probably enough for today. I'm exhausted just eating and drinking my way through the day. Until tomorrow.
