It was topical some years ago because of the Commonwealth Games, but we have been to the Gold Coast on many occasions and nearly always stayed at the Hilton.
Nearly all of the photos here are taken from floor 13 through to 45, some close to the ocean, others facing north, and west, towards the hinterland.
Below is one of the main beaches, where the typical sun, sand, and surf pretty well sums it up. Been ion the water a few times myself, and it is amazing how warm it can be on some days, and how cold it can be on others.
And a surfer’s paradise it sure is!
At the bottom, the start of the shopping centers and eateries. The is more different types of food there that can be counted on the fingers and toes together.
The beach just to the north, and where the market stalls set up at night.
Further north, through the highrises, and far, far into the distance towards Brisbane.
North, again, looking up Cavill Avenue.
South, showing highrises and the Q Tower.
South, taken from the Q Tower, the coastline to Coolangatta dotted with high rise apartment blocks.
The two towers behind the Grand Chancellor, are the twin towers of the Hilton Hotel.
From the Q Tower, looking towards the canal residential precinct.
Yes, we were looking for whales, no we didn’t see any. The ocean, though, was unusually calm.
That meant we had to make the journey from New York to New Jersey, by train. It involved the underground, or as New Yorkers call it, the subway, from Columbus Circle which by any other name was really, 80th street, to 34th street which apparently was the New Jersey jump-off point for us to get overground, well a lot of it was overground. So, were we going uptown or downtown?
Apparently, it was downtown, and to 34th Street on the A train.
You would not think this to be a difficult task, but for people not used to the subway, and where they were going other than some internet derived instructions, but without the help of a man at the station, just getting tickets may have stopped us dead in our tracks. With his help, we determined the return fare for three of us and then get through the turnstile onto the platform.
We get on the A train, but soon discover it was not stopping at all stations. There was for a few minutes, a little apprehension we might just simply bypass our station. Luckily we did not.
Now, finding your way to the New Jersey transit part of Penn station might appear to be easy, on paper, but once there, on the ground, and mingling with the other passengers which all seemed to be purpose going somewhere, it took a few moments to realize we had to follow the New Jersey transit signs.
This led to a booking hall where luckily we realized we needed to buy more tickets, then find the appropriate platform, and then get on the right train, all of which, in the end, was not difficult at all.
Maybe on the return trip, it might be.
At Newark Penn station it was momentarily confusing because the exit was not readily in sight, so it was a case of following the majority of other passengers who’d got off the train.
This led us to exit onto the street under the train tracks. Luckily, having been before to Prudential Stadium to buy the tickets, we knew what the stadium looked like and roughly where it was, so it was a simple task to walk towards it.
We were early, so it was a case of finding a restaurant to get dinner before the game. So was a great many others, and we passed about 6 different restaurants that looked full to overflowing before we stopped at one called Novelty Burger and Bar.
It looked inviting, and it was not crowded.
It was yet another excuse to have a hamburger and beer, both of which seemed to be a specialty in American. I could not fault either.
And soon after we arrived, this restaurant too was full to overflowing. Thankfully there were other Maple Leaf fans there because being in a room full of opposition teams supports can be quite harrowing.
That was yet to come when we finally got to the stadium. I was not expecting a lot of Maple Leaf fans. We went to this game with high hopes. New Jersey Devils were not exactly at the top of the leader board, and coming off the loss in Toronto, this was make or break for whether we would ever go to another game.
It’s remarkable in that all the Ice Hockey stadiums are the same. Everyone has an excellent view of the game, the sound systems are loud, and the fans passionate. Here it seems to be a thing to ride on the Zambonis. At the front door they were handing out figurines of a Devil’s past player, and it seems a thing that you get a handout of some sort at each game. At Toronto we got towels. And, finally, we were in luck.
The Maple Leafs won.
And it was an odd feeling to know that even though their team lost, there did not seem to be any rancor amount the fans and that any expectation of being assaulted by losing fans was totally unfounded, unlike some sporting events I’ve been to.
Perhaps soccer should take a leaf out of the ice hockey playbook.
That also went for taking public transport late at night. I did not have any fears about doing so, which is more than I can say about traveling at night on our own transport system back home.
Oh, and by the way, there are train conductors who still come to every passenger to collect or stamp their tickets. No trusting the passenger has paid for his trip here. And, if you don’t have a ticket, I have it on good authority they throw you off the train and into the swamp. Good thing then, we had tickets.
We have stayed in two different types of accommodation in Coffs Harbour, New South Wales, Australia, as a timeshare owner who can trade their week for a week anywhere in the world.
Both are resorts, but different sorts of resorts. The first was a typical RCI resort, where everything is laid back and relaxing, with all the amenities one can expect from a resort.
The other, this one, the Wyndham in Coffs Harbour, is very different, and you notice it when you walk in the front door. You are virtually assaulted by hard-nosed timeshare sales staff who really don’t take no for an answer, and then when you finally escape, ring you every day to make an appointment.
I left the phone off the hook.
Aside from that, the place is excellent, the accommodation very good, and the situation one of the best with what could be called a private beach. There are also a number of bushwalks that cater to old people like me.
As you can see, lakes and greenery, and even a putting green.
And in places, they try very hard to hide the ugly multi-story buildings in amongst the trees
It is only a short walk to the ‘private beach’ and it is sufficiently long enough for a morning walk before breakfast. You could even try to catch some fish for breakfast, though I’m not sure if anyone actually caught anything
Or you can just stare out to sea
And, back in the room, this is the view we had from our verandah
This is the famous clock tower of the Flinders Street Station (the main train station for suburban trains) in Melbourne.
We were staying in a hotel (The Doubletree) directly opposite to the station and our room overlooked the station and the clock tower. I took photos of it during the day:
and this one, at night. It came out better than I thought it would.
In the first or is the second instance of the word Sore, we all know this malady can sometimes fester into something a lot worse.
Or that a person could be a sore loser
Or after spending an hour on the obstacle course, they come off very sore and sorry. I never quite understood why they should be sorry because no one ever apologises to inanimate object. Or do they?
Or perhaps he was sore at his friend for not telling him the truth.
Then, there’s another meaning, saw, which can mean the past tense of seeing, that is, I saw them down by the pool.
I could also use a saw, you know, that thing that custs through wood, steel, plastic, almost anything. And yes, it’s possible someone might actually saw through a loaf of bread.
There are hand saws, electric saws, band saws, coping saws, even a bread knife, all of these have one thing in common, a serrated edge with teeth of different sizes, designed to cut, smoothly or roughly depending on the size.
Add it to bones, and you have Captain Kirk’s description of his medical officer on the Enterprise. I’m not sure any doctor would like to be addressed as saw-bones.
But then, confusingly in the way only English can do, there’s another word that sounds exactly the same, soar
This, of course, means hovering up there in the heavens, with or without propulsion or oxygen.
Yes, it’s difficult to soar with eagles when you work with turkeys. I’ve always liked this expression though most of the time people don’t quite understand what it means.
The novel ‘Echoes from the past’ started out as a short story I wrote about 30 years ago, titled ‘The birthday’.
My idea was to take a normal person out of their comfort zone and led on a short but very frightening journey to a place where a surprise birthday party had been arranged.
Thus the very large man with a scar and a red tie was created.
So was the friend with the limousine who worked as a pilot.
So were the two women, Wendy and Angelina, who were Flight Attendants that the pilot friend asked to join the conspiracy.
I was going to rework the short story, then about ten pages long, into something a little more.
And like all re-writes, especially those I have anything to do with, it turned into a novel.
There was motivation. I had told some colleagues at the place where I worked at the time that I liked writing, and they wanted a sample. I was going to give them the re-worked short story. Instead, I gave them ‘Echoes from the past’
Originally it was not set anywhere in particular.
But when considering a location, I had, at the time, recently been to New York in December, and visited Brooklyn and Queens, as well as a lot of New York itself. We were there for New Years, and it was an experience I’ll never forget.
One evening we were out late, and finished up in Brooklyn Heights, near the waterfront, and there was rain and snow, it was cold and wet, and there were apartment buildings shimmering in the street light, and I thought, this is the place where my main character will live.
It had a very spooky atmosphere, the sort where ghosts would not be unexpected. I felt more than one shiver go up and down my spine in the few minutes I was there.
I had taken notes, as I always do, of everywhere we went so I had a ready supply of locations I could use, changing the names in some cases.
Fifth Avenue near the Rockefeller center is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.
The original main character was a shy and man of few friends, hence not expecting the surprise party. I enhanced that shyness into purposely lonely because of an issue from his past that leaves him always looking over his shoulder and ready to move on at the slightest hint of trouble. No friends, no relationships, just a very low profile.
Then I thought, what if he breaks the cardinal rule, and begins a relationship?
But it is also as much an exploration of a damaged soul, as it is the search for a normal life, without having any idea what normal was, and how the understanding of one person can sometimes make all the difference in what we may think or feel.
Of course, it could easily be Collingwood depending on who you barrack for in the local football competition, as it is Fitzroy, but the map and my GPS tells me the street is, for all intents and purposes, in Fitzroy.
Not that there is a football team for Fitzroy any more, that moved north to Queensland a long, long time ago.
But…
Going for a wander up and down the street shows two or three very different sides to inner suburban living, and the effect that comes from a diverse range of cultures, the city has acquired over the past few decades.
Once viewed as almost the slums of Melbourne, these inner suburban areas have moved upscale to become havens for the more wealthy middle classes and a home for many diverse outlets, not the least of which are eateries.
And. In just this small section of Smith Street, there are a lot of eating establishments, from the Old Kingdom Peking duck restaurant to a small place selling Falafel, and then everything in between. It says a lot about how Australian eating habits have changed in a single generation, where back in those infamous old days you would be lucky to have a fish and chips/ hamburger shop and one or two Chinese restaurants.
Now, intermingled with gourmet bakeries and cozy coffee shops, there are a plethora of other eating establishments that cater to any cuisine you can imagine. In fact, it’s possible to dine out on a different cuisine every night for a fortnight and only traverse about half a kilometre up and down the street. It could be ideal if you lived in one of the small fronted houses just off the main carriageway in a leafy narrow side street or laneway.
And, as you would expect in an inner-city suburb, the streets are narrow and made more hazardous for traffic because of the trams, a familiar sight in many of the streets in this area, and a much-used form of transport for workers making the short trip into the city. It’s almost possible to take the extra half hour, and walk.
The street is lined with old buildings, some dating back to about 1868, there’s around the turn of the century, but most are not inhabited except for the street level where there is an eclectic mixture of furniture, haberdashery, and clothing stores catering to a particular group of people, what some call yuppies or upwardly mobile men and women who are between 25-35, with high paying jobs, and preferably no children.
Then there a subgroup walking there streets, homosexual men, some wheeling adopted children in pushers, others walking hand in hand out for a Saturday afternoon stroll where they can feel safe among many others. It’s very different from other places I’ve been, but one can imagine there are places like this in every city all over the world.
But as a backdrop to the appearance of wealth, the shopfronts that cater to those upwardly mobile upper middle classes, there’s that exact opposite in full view, the homeless, and beggars, sitting on the ground outside the more run down shops soliciting alms, asking for a spare dollar, and even one asking for a cigarette.
Everyone walks past them, imagining no doubt there are not there, or that if they ignore them, they will go away. I think not. And, I suspect, more will come out of their daytime hiding places and take up residence in Smith Street itself.
The only surprise is that the local council has not asked the police to move them on. It’s an interesting juxtaposition of inhabitants in an area that no doubt can only attract the upper middle classes, as anything and everything is relatively expensive, particularly real estate, and permit driven parking spaces.
Would I live here? No.
Would I come here to wine and dine?
Maybe, if I could get parking, which there appear to be very few spots or any other form of parking such as under the local supermarket which can be very expensive. And if you are lucky enough to find a spot, who has the time or the memory if continually feeding a parking meter every two hours, particularly if you’re having a good time.
Equally, it’s a place I would not feel comfortable, even if it was once a safe haven, which up to a few years ago, I’d probably think it not. In fact, at times I was not sure what to make of some of the people on the street, but I guess if I lived here, it would no doubt be the norm.
Would I recommend people to come here?
Of course. One of the more interesting places in Melbourne to experience grassroots cuisine that is incredibly diverse in it range and price, and even from a place with tables and chairs that may have seen better days, but you haven’t come to see the furniture.
And to my mind, the dining is definitely better, here than perhaps Carlton, which in itself is Mecca to a plethora of university types, both teachers and students alike, and the coffee culture that pervade that area of Melbourne.
I have no doubt you will come and leave with a very good opinion of the place.
As for me, I came here for an engagement party held at the Hotelito de Jesus, a Mexican restaurant, serving a variety of Mexican dishes. As I’m no expert of that particular cuisine, everything was going to be new.
It was. It’s spicy but not too spicy, the pork belly excellent, the canapés delicious, and both the mushroom-based and shredded beef based mini tacos were equally scrumptious.
All of this was washed down with two particular Mexican beers, two of several available in bottles, cans, or by the glass.
Oh, and you can get sangria by the jug too if you like. I would have, but my passion for trying different beers won out.
The novel ‘Echoes from the past’ started out as a short story I wrote about 30 years ago, titled ‘The birthday’.
My idea was to take a normal person out of their comfort zone and led on a short but very frightening journey to a place where a surprise birthday party had been arranged.
Thus the very large man with a scar and a red tie was created.
So was the friend with the limousine who worked as a pilot.
So were the two women, Wendy and Angelina, who were Flight Attendants that the pilot friend asked to join the conspiracy.
I was going to rework the short story, then about ten pages long, into something a little more.
And like all re-writes, especially those I have anything to do with, it turned into a novel.
There was motivation. I had told some colleagues at the place where I worked at the time that I liked writing, and they wanted a sample. I was going to give them the re-worked short story. Instead, I gave them ‘Echoes from the past’
Originally it was not set anywhere in particular.
But when considering a location, I had, at the time, recently been to New York in December, and visited Brooklyn and Queens, as well as a lot of New York itself. We were there for New Years, and it was an experience I’ll never forget.
One evening we were out late, and finished up in Brooklyn Heights, near the waterfront, and there was rain and snow, it was cold and wet, and there were apartment buildings shimmering in the street light, and I thought, this is the place where my main character will live.
It had a very spooky atmosphere, the sort where ghosts would not be unexpected. I felt more than one shiver go up and down my spine in the few minutes I was there.
I had taken notes, as I always do, of everywhere we went so I had a ready supply of locations I could use, changing the names in some cases.
Fifth Avenue near the Rockefeller center is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.
The original main character was a shy and man of few friends, hence not expecting the surprise party. I enhanced that shyness into purposely lonely because of an issue from his past that leaves him always looking over his shoulder and ready to move on at the slightest hint of trouble. No friends, no relationships, just a very low profile.
Then I thought, what if he breaks the cardinal rule, and begins a relationship?
But it is also as much an exploration of a damaged soul, as it is the search for a normal life, without having any idea what normal was, and how the understanding of one person can sometimes make all the difference in what we may think or feel.
On this occasion, we drove from Florence to Innsbruck, a journey of about 500 kilometers and via the E45, a trip that would take us about five and a half hours.
We drove conservatively, stopped once for lunch and took about seven hours, arriving in Innsbruck late in the afternoon
The main reason for this stay was to go to Swarovski in Wattens for the second time, to see if anything had changed, and to buy some pieces. We were still members of the club, and looking forward to a visit to the exclusive lounge and some Austrian champagne.
Sadly, there were no new surprises waiting, and we came away a little disappointed.
We were staying at the Innsbruck Hilton, where we stayed the last time, and it only a short walk to the old town.
From the highest level of the hotel, it is possible to get a look at the mountains that surround the city. This view is in the direction we had driven earlier, from Florence.
The change in the weather was noticeable the moment we entered the mountain ranges.
This view looks towards the old town and overlooks a public square.
This view shows some signs of the cold, but in summer, I doubted we were going to see any snow.
We have been here in winter, and it is quite cold, and there is a lot of snow. The ski resorts are not very far away, and the airport is on the way to Salzburg.
There is a host of restaurants in the old town, and we tried a few during our stay. The food, beer, and service were excellent.
On a previous visit, we did get Swiss Army Knives, literally, from a small store called Victorinox.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 