Long-time readers may remember that when I first started traveling New Zealand in 2010, I booked a pass with a hop-on hop-off bus company called Stray. I’ve talked about my experience with this bus before, albeit rather briefly, and tucked away in this post about sailing in Abel Tasman National Park.
This past “summer” in the Netherlands was pretty much what I’ve come to expect after two years.
It was cold. It was cloudy. It was wet. I grumbled and pouted and questioned nearly every day why I had chosen to live in such a godforsaken place, which I can only assume means I should get my Dutch passport in the mail any day now. (“Je bent één van ons. Veel sterkte.”)
It goes without saying that, for many countries, the capital city is the star of the show.
But until I moved to the Netherlands, I didn’t realize the extent to which Amsterdam steals the spotlight from everywhere else. The amount of people who assume I live there is kind of staggering. (In case you’re new around here: I definitely don’t.)
“This friend of mine, we have really different views on a lot of things — but we just don’t talk about politics!” Sound familiar?
Or what about this one? “This is not the place to discuss politics. This is a travel blog/make-up channel/fashion account. I don’t follow you/read your posts to hear about your ~causes~!”
Melbourne is no stranger to praise or acclaim. The city has been hyped as the world’s most liveable for years, topping lists left and right, and generally garnering a reputation as The Place To Be. There’s festival for every season, a market for every budget, and a restaurant for every taste. (There might not be a café for every hipster, but it’s probably as close as you’re gonna get.)
Most people know Kaikoura, New Zealand for whale watching. Maybe they visit for its nearby colony of seals, or to eat some super fresh seafood (Kaikoura, in the Māori language, translates to “meal of crayfish”). Maybe they’re just lured by the stunning scenery of a peninsula surrounded by sparkling water and snow-capped mountains.
Welcome to the second post on our road trip through Tasmania! In part one, we went over the “back story” — renting our campervan, deciding how long to visit for, purchasing a national parks pass, and more. If you’re interested in the logistics, make sure to check it out. (Don’t worry; I’ll wait.)
Tasmania is Australia’s smallest and only island state. It’s named for the Dutch explorer Abel Tasman — a guy who managed to get like 47 world features named after him despite hightailing it outta New Zealand as soon as the Maori showed their faces. (Fun fact: according to Wikipedia, the spot on NZ’s South Island now called “Golden Bay” was initially deemed “Murderer’s Bay” by Tasman. Well, maybe “fun” isn’t the right word.)
By the time we arrived in Far North Queensland, we already had a pretty decent arsenal of Australian wildlife sightings under our belt.
So far, we’d encountered Tasmanian devils, kangaroos, koalas, dolphins, emus, and echidnas, to name some of the higlights. As far as kitschy animal sightings went, there was just one more big one to check off: the almighty crocodile.