I had a fine time taking in the sights of the Great Barrier Reef from above as the plane flew into Cairns. You know how petrol stains look like when it is spilt on the floor? The reefs looked just like that - like pretty blotches of luminous oil stains floating on the surface of the sea.
The blotches of reefs looked so small in the expanse of the sea that I could imagine Mother Nature sticking her soup spoon into the sea and skimming the gleaming layers away.
Port Douglas is a small town at the far north corner and an hour's car ride from Cairns airport. We drove along the coast to get to it, and I lulled myself to sleep while the scenery of the sea flew past.
I was put up at the Sheraton Mirage Port Douglas Resort. The property was more than 15 years old, so said the travel agents who were with me for the trade event.
The property lagoonafied itself. It looked as if all the buildings were surrounded by clear turqouise waters, white sands and lovely trees. According to the hotel's website, it is surrounded by five acres of saltwater lagoons.
You could leap in at any where - even out of your balcony, provided that you were not on the second or third storey - and swim your way to the main lagoon that swells in the middle of the resort. I was tempted, but I did not bring my bikini.
This was the view from my room. I woke up every morning to a serene sight of green, white and turqouise.
Although my room was huge, furnishings were old and the springs in the bed were so loose, I felt like I was sleeping on a fat hag's wobbly tummy. There were also yellowed stains on the aged green carpet.
I can't help but realise that the decor is very typical of luxurious hotels in the late 80s - marbled floors and gold taps. But I do love the roomy bathroom and jacuzzi. I also love how the cold air from the main quarters does not flow into the bathroom and threaten to freeze my tits off when I step out of the shower.
Beyond the hotel, however, Port Douglas is such as sleepy little town.
I combed the town centre from one end to the other within 40 minutes. I gave up trying to shop because the shops either sold tacky souvenirs at ridiculously high prices (AUD$40 for a t-shirt that reads I Love Australia!) or expensive beach wear. A few women boutiques sold clothes that my OG-loving mum MAY consider buying if she ran out of options.
There was also a shop called this...
It could have been worse if it was called bjhooker.
There were a couple of small cafes that sold sandwiches, fish and chips, juices and shakes, and four bars that looked hardly tempting.
Having nowhere else to spend my money, I ended up hitting Coles and stocking up on chocolates that are not sold in Singapore. I ended up with AUD$44 worth of choc and Tim Tams.
Holy shite! I just realised that was S$57 worth of chocs and Tim Tams!!! Even worse, I spent another AUD$50 on macadamia nuts at the airport later on.
Gah... This was one of those trips I did not bother to evaluate the exchange rate carefully before a purchase. But the Aussie dollar is so strong now, it is hardly kind on my pocket.
Oh, if you don't already know, Coles is a supermarket chain in Australia. Seeing the cheery red logo brought back memories of my school days in Perth. There was a Coles next to my hostel and I would go there with Mel to stock up on meat, veg, milk, juices and ICE-CREAM once a week. I would toss tubs of all sorts of flavours into the trolley and Mel would tell me to put them back.
Then we would push the shopping trolley down the road and back to our apartment cos we could not carry that many bags. Hmm, I missed those times with her.
Sorry, I digressed.
At the end of Port Douglas was a quiet stretch of the sea and a field where young parents brought their excited toddlers to run around. There was also a marina.
Upon arrival, the bunch of us sought out lunch at a local restaurant and bar called IronBar.
The quaint, rustic little place offered cane toad racing sessions every night. It was a common local entertainment, but I could not bring myself to be in close proximity with toads, whether or not they could race like Marion Jones or hop like Mas Selamat. Toads will be toads, and they will be icky.
One Aussie dude told me how he would, as a young boy, head to the sugar cane fields with his golf club, and send the toads on a free flight to the heavens. Ouch.
I don't know why everyone who goes to Australia must eat fish and chips. I was not quite keen on Australian fish and chips after being duped in Fremantle. Back then, I was told by the eager student union leaders at my Uni that a particular restaurant in Fremantle served the best fish and chips in the whole of Western Australia. But when I finally tried it, I cried. I cried because I missed the fish and chips that were sold at any hawker centres in Singapore - they were way better than the 'best in whole of Perth".
IronBar sold fish and chips this way:
Unbreaded, uninteresting and hardly filling. And it cost me AUD$9.99, which is about S$13. Urgh!
The highlight of my lunch would have to be a bottle of Cascade Lite.
For the rest of the three days of business, meals were unsatisfying too. The only saving grace was the endless flow of sparkling wine and the dry wit of British men.
Here's one example - A gentleman from Ireland said: "Ireland did a survey on tourists to find out what they loved most about Ireland and what would make them come back. Warm, friendly people scored the highest on the list. Now, every country would boast that they have the friendliest citizens. Even the French. But, aye, don't we all know the truth."
A BBQ dinner for all delegates featured tough chunks of chicken and slabs of beef steaks that were either too raw or too cooked.
Lunches were make-your-own-sandwich buffet spreads. I did not want to eat sandwiches for lunch, so I ended up eating the contents of the sandwiches instead - smoked salmon and mayo tuna chunks.
Thankfully, the media centre had endless flow of Coke and an assortment of chocolate bars all day, and I snacked till my throat was sore.
On the last day of the trade event, a Scottish themed dinner was held. True to the theme, the British men gamely donned kilts, entertainment was provided by bag pipers and folk musicians, and Robert Burn's famous poem, Address to a Haggis, was recited in Scottish slang.
Speaking of the haggis, here's one that tickled me. A gentleman from Scotland said: "The American say that the haggis is not a furry creature with short legs. But really, the haggis is a delicious traditional Scottish dish of meat, spice and oatmeal. The Americans are really a disillusioned lot."
This was a conversation I struck up with a Scotsman - I don't know his name - in a kilt:
Me: Hey, that's a pretty skirt you have on!
Man: No, love. This is a kilt! (Of course I know it was a kilt!)
Me: So are you wearing anything under your kilt?
Man: How auld are yer?
Me: 28
Man: Yer too yuung to know, love.
Then he plastered a kiss on my cheek and danced away to join the folks swinging to some Scottish folk song.
Well, that's all there is to my three days at Port Douglas.
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