Eating out in Singapore; same old bleat about winter and a change of scenery; avo-smuggling and avo-PTSD; small, sweet sins; real food – Taiwanese dim sum, French rustic at Le Bistrot du Sommelier, superb Sri Lankan, Indian tandoori and more; cheap eggs and coffee; decadent Sunday champagne brunch
Le Bistrot du Sommelier
As I like to remind my husband and anyone else who will listen, I was never supposed to do winter. Roy and I were in tropical Singapore for 16 years, until he retired from shipping in 2016 and we embarked on travels that ensured we’d always be in the appropriate hemisphere to benefit from eternal summer. (If you have a moment, click here, here and here for some of my earlier blog posts.)
Eating out in Perth WA often means heading into the city. Our northern coastal suburbs offer wonderful beaches, lots of fresh air and a healthy lifestyle, but not much in the way of good restaurants.
Sometimes, we’ll even pack our bags and do a dirty stop-out for a night or two – like we did on the first weekend of June. It just so happened that our great friends Lynn and Kim (based between Yallingup WA and Singapore), were enjoying a touristy stay-cay in the city, complete with a walking tour and a cruise to Fremantle.
A touristy weekend – but mercifully stopping short of boarding this topless bus
They would be at The Citadines. So Roy went online and booked us a studio apartment there too. It’s conveniently located at 185 St Georges Terrace. (Is it just me*, or are you wondering about the road name? I’d be surprised to learn that there were multiple saints with the same moniker. Ah… seems the Terrace was named after St George’s Cathedral, but the apostrophe simply became too hard.)
Travel in France: Post-Plague family reunion in Saint-Geniès; dining in the Dordogne; Death Row dinner; tricked into being side-tracked to Montech for lunch, poor Roy!; canal-side in Carcassonne, and why we seldom eat steak in France; Hotel Renaissance at Aix-en-Provence; murals and Ricard at La-Seyne-sur-Mer; cliffs and calanques at Cassis; flagrant disregard of cycle-path etiquette in La Ciotat; homeward bound, with a lot of excess baggage!
Three nights in the Dordogne
As a reminder, this is the first leg of our French triangle: from St Jean-de-Losne in Burgundy to the Dordogne. (NB: There will be a test.)
The heavier line, heading southwest from SJDL to the Dordogne
Before reading about beautiful Burgundy, please check out French Triangle Part One, where we said goodbye to our boat, Karanja; gorgeous gîte in Esbarres, near St Jean-de-Losne; homage to crossing the Channel on Karanja with David; flashback to cassoulet in Carcassonne; lamb shank and lavish scenery in Dole; by train to Dijon for lunch at Le Gourmand; onward to the Dordogne!
So, when we weren’t busy tearfully clearing our personal possessions off Karanja, prior to handing her over to her new owners at the St Jean-de-Losne Salon Fluviale, what were we doing? Exploring beautiful Burgundy while drowning our sorrows in duck-fat and Chablis, it would seem.
Goodbye to boating in France; dirty minds and a pretty map; shamelessly nostalgic Karanja flashback; 18 Pipers piping; celebratory sake with Masako and Yoshi; apéro, gorgeously Gorgonzola-ey pizzas and Toshi’s sushi; sterling beef tartare, and whitebait with too many eyes
For any dirty minds out there, no – this French triangle of which I speak is nothing nearly as exciting as a ménage á trois in a French farce. In fact, it’s mostly about the breaking up of the triangle that was Roy, me and our Dutch barge Karanja.
The last photo taken of us on Karanja, May 2023
In addition, it roughly describes the route from St Jean-de-Losne in Bourgogne, where we said goodbye to Karanja; southwest to the Dordogne to visit Roy’s sister Lyndsay and brother-in-law John; down to daughter Wendy in Provence; and back to Bourgogne.
One week in Phuket is barely an introduction to this lovely Thai island. After two tremendous nights in Phuket Old Town (see 1st Part), Roy and I spent five fabulous days on the popular west coast of Phuket – a good balance of gorgeous beaches, copious cocktails, Soi Banglah girly-bar sleaze, and pukkah Royal Thai cuisine.
When it comes to choosing accommodation, it’s tricky to advise anyone where to stay on their first visit to Phuket. That said, I think you’d be safe choosing any of the western or southern coast beaches.
Patong Beach, Phuket west coast
But which one? – Kalim, Patong, Karon, Kata, Kata Noi? And which hotel? Here’s a map of just the Patong hotels – the choice is mind-boggling.
Kalim Beach, closest beach to Indochine Resort & Villas where we spent three nights
With just one week in Phuket, here’s where to eat and stay – starting with two nights in the fabulous culinary melting-pot of Phuket Old Town
“I get my kicks above the waistline, Sunshine.” Me too, but not that far above the waistline. Right in the region of the stomach, actually.
Travel doesn’t have to be all about food – but for us it often turns out that way. Phuket is no exception: Southern Thai is a melting pot of Thai, Malay, Burmese and Chinese cultures, and Phuket was named “Thailand City of Gastronomy” by Unesco in 2017.
Roy and I visited Phuket at least half-a-dozen times during our Singapore years (2001-2016), but never spent any time in Phuket Old Town. I hadn’t been to Phuket since around 2014. For Roy, it had been even longer. Thailand is our favourite Southeast-Asian country – apart from Singapore of course. I was itching to get back.
Green papaya salad, laced with slivers of fiery fresh chillies
Though it pains my dearest to take time off from watching our new house in Iluka WA not being built (here and here), he agreed to a fortnight away from Perth. It helps that spicy green papaya salad (above) is one of his favourite dishes ever. We’d have a week in Singapore, plus a week-long side trip to Phuket.
Roy has always appreciated a surprise birthday treat, and now it seems that I do too. After all, what’s not to like about a WA Midlands getaway complete with Moët, spa bath, massage and attendant kangaroos?
My man had been obdurately tight-lipped about whether we’d be going somewhere on Tuesday, 17 January. But it was fairly obvious that we were – I’d been advised against making any plans for the next morning (the 18th), and he’d suggested that I move my birthday hair appointment back to 9am.
Once the birthday earrings had been unwrapped and it was time to rise, shine and carpe diem, he had to crack. Yes, we are going somewhere. Yes, you need to pack a nice dress for dinner. No, we weren’t going anywhere near the sea; but yes, there might be water, so pack a swimsuit.
Flashback to Crown, this time last year
Hmm… Crown Casino, where I still want to try a couple of restaurants? Or somewhere inland, like the Swan Valley? We had a lovely stay at Mandoon Estate once, courtesy of vouchers from the offspring. (Here’s my blog post about Mandoon.)
And so it came to pass that I found myself in the passenger seat of the Volvo CX40, heading – as far as I could tell – for the Perth Hills. Hurrah! – though I was better packed for a fancy night at Crown, I never mind being overdressed. (Here’s my blog post about our anniversary celebration at Crown last year.)
Solo in Singapore: a bit of background; a school night in Joo Chiat, plus Asador review; authentic heartland Chinese chow; Singapore Polo Club and Boat Quay; what’s new in Orchard Road; Basilico champagne brunch and CHIJMES cocktails; Seletar and Sentosa; feeling at home
This is supposed to be Travels with Verne and Roy – so what was I doing gallivanting off solo to Singapore?
Well, I’d just taken on a new role at my long time employer/client, Expat Living magazine, a glossy monthly publication that’s been going for 20 years, It also has a fabulous website that’s invaluable to expats and equally beloved by local Singaporeans. (Do take a look!)
Roy and I were stationed in Singapore for more than 15 years – from late 2000 until he retired in May 2016. I’ve been with EL since 2005, with a brief lull during the recent Plague Years. Now, I needed to reconnect with the EL team, and to spend some time with its editor-in-chief, my friend Rebecca.
Day One
So, that was my excuse for boarding an overpriced Qantas flight from Perth to Singapore last Thursday. To be fair, at around $1,500 it was the cheapest one to depart at a reasonable hour. Also, the service was efficient and friendly enough, the food was fine, and we touched down at 5.30pm, more or less on schedule.
Leaving Perth:
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
My hosts, Paul and Florie
A $30 taxi-ride got me to Paul and Florie’s beautifully renovated penthouse apartment in the Serangoon area, where I’d be spending the week. Paul, Roy and I go back more than 20 years and have heaps of history together.
Florie and PaulPaul and Florie’s conveniently central neighbourhood – Potong Pasir
Dinner in Joo Chiat
And by 7.30pm I was knocking on the impressive old door of Sue’s gorgeous new home in Lotus @ Joo Chiat – a three-storey heritage shophouse development in the East Coast neighbourhood of Joo Chiat.
I hadn’t seen Sue or Malinda for nearly three years. Lynn, though, is married to Kim, a Western Australian. You might remember her from this post about Roy freezing his bollocks off when we glamped on their Margaret River property one wintry evening last year.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
Asador
The upmarket Asador in Joo Chiat is a convenient 200 metres down the road from Sue’s. Though the highlight for me was the signature cochinillo, suckling pig ($118 for 1/4) that’s pre-brined and then roasted to crispy, succulent perfection in their wood-fired oven, the other dishes were outstanding too: anchoas, or anchovies on toast ($10 for two); col, or charred cabbage with burnt spring onion ranch, wakame and noisette butter ($12); calamar, or squid with caramelised onions and peppers ($28); and piquillo peppers ($14).
Though it was a school night, Sue allowed us back to her place for more drinks and late-night munchie snacks. Just as I was calling a cab, Malinda declared it was time to dance… so who knows what time that little party was eventually wound up?
Day 2 – Polo Club and Boat Quay
We like to say that Singapore has two seasons: hot and wet, and hotter and wetter. But Paul tells me that since May or June this year, they’ve been having the sort of cloudy, rainy and relatively cooler weather you generally get here only in December and January. Well, today it poured.
Waiting for a tardy taxi outside Singapore Polo Club – man, it poured!
I met Rebecca and the EL editorial team on the deep, wide verandah of the Singapore Polo Club for their regular editors’ meeting, overlooking the verdant playing fields in the pouring rain. Well, why not? It was great to catch up with her again, and to meet new members of the team. We all ordered something self-righteously low carb, healthy and yet tasty from the Nourish section of The Paddock Bistro menu.
After some boring banking stuff, I met up with another lovely client, Kristen, at Belle Epoque on Boat Quay. We both chose the Yuppie cocktail, which went to prove that we’re kindred spirits. (But we knew that already.)
With Kristen at Belle Epoque, Boat Quay
She heads up sales and marketing for Bawah Reserve, an Indonesian island paradise that has recently re-opened. Click on the link, and try not to drool. What with the plague and all, I haven’t managed to get there yet. But it’s on the cards… and if Roy plays his right, he might just get lucky too.
Going local – transport and food-wise
Having been in Singapore for less than 24 hours and spent nearly S$100 on taxis, it was time to switch to public transport – so I headed for Clarke Quay MRT station. My EZ-Link card still worked, and the $12 stored value on it meant I was good for at least seven or eight journeys by train or bus.
Back home in Potong Pasir, I found that Paul and Florie had booked dinner at Westlake Chinese restaurant. You never find it unless you knew where to go. It’s located in an HDB (Housing Development Board) residential complex that is typically and authentically local – the vast majority of Singaporeans live in this sort of development. They aren’t condos – they don’t have swimming pools and gyms – but they’re decent, well maintained, and well served by community facilities and transport networks.
We over-ordered, we over-ate (or at least I did), and still there were leftovers to take away or tapau (say ta-pow). Special fried rice, baby kalian in oyster sauce, black pepper crab, tofu, steamed pork dumplings, tender venison stir-fried with ginger and spring onions. You can bring your own wine to places like these, which is a huge advantage. Thanks, Paul and Florie!
Paul & Florie, Westlake Chinese
Venison, prawns and dumplings
Sizzling venison… superb!
Florie and Verne
Day 3 – Walking Orchard Road
I started by taking the MRT train from Potong Pasir to Dhoby Ghaut station, planning to walk back up Orchard Road to Scotts Road, which I’ve done so many hundreds of times in the past. (That’s because we rented at Belle Vue, Oxley Rise for our first four years in Singapore; and then in our own home at Townhouse Apartments, Cavenagh Road, for the next five.)
Translated from Hindi, Dhoby Ghaut means roughly “the place where laundry is done”, as there used to be a freshwater spring here, known as Sungei Beras Basah, where professional Indian washermen (or dhobies) would gather do laundry and lay it out to dry on the banks.
Near Dhoby Ghaut MRT Station, Orchard Road
It’s only been three years, and much of Orchard Road looked the same. (To me, anyway – but I am famously unobservant.)
This is something new – Design Orchard, a retail space that promotes Singapore designers and local brands. (In fact, I’ve been assigned to write a feature on it for Expat Living magazine.)
Design Orchard, home of local fashion and lifestyle brands
This was also new – a bar advertising $5 glasses of wine and $3 oysters!
Eggslut? Bizarre.
Eggslut? Note to self: Must try this one next time.
My main purpose in coming to Orchard today was to have a fantastic facial at the highly recommended La Source Spa & Salon, located in what used to be the Hilton and is now the oddly named VocoHotel. (The new Hilton is now where Meritus Mandarin used to be, upstairs from the massively in-your-face Victoria’s Secret shop window.)
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
Raffles City
The North-South MRT line took me the four quick stops from Orchard to City Hall and what used to be my favourite mall, Raffles City. We stayed at the Westin here the very first time I came to Singapore, with Roy, in the early 90s. I’d heard that the famous Robinsons department store had closed its doors forever, but it was still a shock to see how totally changed the mall was since the departure of its stalwart anchor tenant.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
Beauty Spot
Located in Wisma Atria mall on Orchard Road, Yann Beyrie Paris is one of Singapore’s top hair salons. As Yann is a client of Expat Living, and I’m the magazine’s lucky new Beauty Editor, I had the pleasure of a superb hair treatment. Here I am with stylist Nich.
Day 4 – Sunday Champagne Brunch
Sunday brunch buffet with free-flow drinks (meaning eat and drink all you can) is a Singapore expat institution. It’s an occasional treat; and when you do it, it’s generally the focal point of the day.
Sunday champagne brunch at Basilico, Regent Singapore
If I remember correctly, the price for the package including beer, wines and Duval Leroy champagne was $195 a head. It’s less if you take the Prosecco option, and less again if you limit yourself to soft drinks. (Fortunately, none of us was pregnant, to our knowledge.)
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
Here we are at Basilico, Regent Hotel: me, Lynn, Malinda and Bas, Paul and Florie, and Paul and Salinah. They gave us a private room, which was nice! Top marks went to the cold seafood (though no oysters, sadly), the truffle-infused mushroom risotto, and particularly the cheese. I reckon the Ritz-Carlton’s Colony offers a wider, better Sunday brunch selection complete with foie gras, oysters etc. (or at least it did); but Basilico was fine.
Once they’d kicked us out, well after closing time, someone suggested CHIJMES* for another drink. It seemed like a good idea, so here we are. (Note: CHIJMES stands for Church of the Holy Infant Jesus, and is an F&B complex located in a converted convent.)
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
DAY 5 – More Orchard Road, and Diwali Dining
Taiwanese restaurant chain Din Tai Fung is one of my favourite places of all time, and there are more than several branches in Singapore. Orchard Road shopping mall Wisma Atria has a branch, and that’s where Rebecca treated me to lunch: truffled pork dumplings, vegetable dumplings, beef tendon soup, seaweed vegetable salad, all washed down with green tea.
Wisma Atria, Orchard RdION Orchard sculptures, still there
Some things never change
I’m glad to report that some things hadn’t changed. The shopping mall linking Orchard with Wheelock Place, Shaw House and Tangs was as bright, beautiful and crowded as ever. (Not in this pic, which I took before the shops open at 10 or 11am.)
Subterranean shopping bliss, Singapore
Though Robinson’s and Marks & Spencer have disappeared from Raffles City, the M&S at Wheelock Place continues to flourish – even looks bigger than before. In celebration, it seemed only fitting that I should buy a bra from the world’s best lingerie department.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
And the ice cream vendors continue to ply their trade along Orchard Road. I would have stopped for a slice of bright-green durian sorbet sandwiched between two wafers, but the queue was too long.
Ice cream vendor, Orchard Road
This being the Deepavali (Diwali) holiday, the larger-than-life Paul and his sweet wife Salinah kindly took me to dinner at Punjab Grill in the Marina Bay Sands Shoppes. Afterwards, tea at the TWG teashop, and then home in a cab with a hilarious driver from Schenzen. (If you want to know what’s really going on in the country, ask a Singapore cabbie.)
DAY 6 – SEO in Seletar, and Sentosa Cocktails
Today was devoted to Expat Living. I took a cab to Editor-in-Chief Rebecca’s house in the British colonial black-and-white* enclave of Seletar, and we spent a couple of hours going over fascinating stuff such as SEO. For lunch, I’d brought chicken rice and pastries from the hawker centre at Potong Pasir. (You can tell I think I’m on holiday.)
Black-and-whites are the colonial houses built between 1903 and 1928 for British military officials. Only about 500 are still standing.
Portuguese egg tarts in Singapore…
.. called pasteis de Nata in South Africa
That evening, a staff get-together at the new One Altitude Bar at The Outpost, Sentosa. Present: Rebecca, Judit, Jacqui, Karin, Patricea, Susan and Georgina. I had at least one too many cocktails, naturally.
View from One Altitude bar, Sentosa Island, Singapore
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
DAY 7 – Wrapping Up
The Potong Pasir neighbourhood of Toa Payoh town is wonderfully conveniently located – thanks again for having me, Paul and Florie! With an hour or two to spare, I took a walk along the Kallang River, and then through Poiz Centre at Potong Pasir MRT station, through the hawker centre to another smaller hawker centre near this Indian temple.
Kallang River at Potong Pasir, SingaporeCorner of Opal Crescent and Moonstone Lane, Potong PasirSri Siva Durga Tamil temple, Potong Pasir
Last meal in Singapore…
… borderline scurvy
Before I knew it, it was time for a last shower to wash away the Singapore stickiness, close my bags and use the Gojek app to call a cab to Changi airport.
Feeling at home?
It took a day or two for me to settle down to Singapore life, but then I felt completely at home once more. Roy and I will both be back for a week at the end of January 2023, followed possibly by a week in Thailand.
And my bones tell me it won’t be long until the next trip, either.
Across Australia: Only two letters and a sarky Postmaster General in Orroroo, plus pet threats; farewell to the Queen at the Palace, Broken Hill; bureaucratic autocracy and the herdsman-barista at Little Topar; a ray of gluten-free sunshine at Emmdale Roadhouse; a culinary snob concedes in Cobar; biblical rain in Nevertire and Coonabarabran; down by the river in artsy Goondiwindi; destination Brisbane – is it better to travel hopefully than to arrive?
So, here at last is my no-doubt eagerly awaited third and final post on our first-ever (and quite likely last-ever) drive across the grand continent of Australia, from Perth, WA to Brisbane, QLD. For Part One, click here; for Part Two, click here.)
DAY 7: Port Augusta to Broken Hill (412km)
Though I usually take the first driving shift, for no reason at all I suggested Roy start this morning. It must have been a premonition: in addition to a wiggly start out of Port Augusta across the bridge roadworks, driving side by side with massive road trains in narrowed lanes, you’re soon traversing the hills and curves of the Flinders Ranges.
Suddenly, the world is no longer flat – the road out of Port AugustaEndless wind farms near the Flinders Ranges
Orroroo coffee stop
Welcome to Orroroo
An hour’s drive from Port Augusta is Orroroo, which lays claims to having the widest main street in Australia – so wide that the median strip has a shady park. It’s also notable for being the crossroads of the main routes from Sydney to Perth (East to West) and Adelaide to Darwin (North to South).
Things to see in Orroroo include animal sculptures, an early settler’s hut (c. 1870s), the Pekina Creek walking trail, the Post Office*, and the ruins of Pekina Station and Lookout.
*When asked to establish a Post Office in the town in 1880, Postmaster General Todd is supposed to have observed: “Dear me! There are only two letters in Orroroo. What do you want a post office for?”
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
Roy parallel-parked the Prado-camper-trailer rig across half a dozen main street diagonal parking spaces; is that allowed? In case it’s not, we kept an eye out for the local Plod. Coffee and my biennial sausage roll at the one café that was open; the cuter-looking one closes on Mondays and Tuesdays, not unusual for small, touristy towns in WA, too.
Pet threat
Overheard from a woman calling her little dog to her in the famously wide median park: “Bugger, come here. Come here, Bugger! Council says you’ve got to come at first call, or they’ll take you to the pound.”
Thirty-eight kilometres from Orroroo, many times its size and just as arty-looking and pretty, is the relatively unheralded Peterborough. What it may lack is animal sculptures, and perhaps someone’s daughter working at the South Australian tourism authority.
We stopped for fuel at Yunta. It’s just that – a fuel stop. A sign warns of no further fuel for the next 200km. It’s true: there was none available at Cockburn.
Broken Hill
Did you know that the BHP in mining giant BHP Billiton stands for Broken Hill Proprietary? Incorporated in 1885, BHP’s history began in a silver, lead and zinc mine right here in Broken Hill.
Argent Street, Broken Hill SA
An important city from the late 1800s to the early decades of the 20th century, Broken Hill is apparently doing well, despite the plethora of closed shops on its main street.
According to the receptionist at our hotel, once the pandemic lockdowns ended and citizens were allowed to travel within their own states, though not yet interstate or abroad, hotels like the Royal Exchange, the Palace, the Astra and others have been flourishing due to new interest from city-siders itching to go somewhere, anywhere. (We saw a similar phenomenon in WA.)
Wow… the Workies Club (no apostrophe)
Art Deco facade, Broken Hill
Broken Hill street corner
Civic building, Broken Hill
The Astra, Broken Hill
Mural art, Broken Hill
Argent Street, Broken Hill SA
Broken Hill pub
Review: Royal Exchange Hotel
The highly recommended Imperial Palace, Red Earth and Astra hotels had been fully booked ten days ago, when we were making our bookings. In fact, the Royal Exchange was perfect for us. Our spacious and elegantly furnished Deluxe Double Room ($180) had a big en-suite complete with deep, old-fashioned tub. (You’ve come a long way from Cocklebiddy, baby.)
The Royal Exchange Hotel, Broken Hill SA
Royal Exchange Hotel reception – a pity the bar was not open during our stayDeluxe Double Room, Royal Exchange Hotel, Broken Hill NSW
Several recommended restaurants mentioned by the receptionist at Royal Exchange were within walking distance: The Astra, The Barrier Social Democratic Club and the Palace were just three of them. We’d definitely need to book for dinner at the Palace, she said, as it’s famous for having been used used in the filming of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.
Palace Hotel
So, having parked the Prado and camper trailer in the nearby civic parking lot and ferried what we needed into the hotel, we strolled the couple of hundred metres to the Palace.
Roy had his eye on a cerise-sequinned beret in the Palace’s souvenir shop, but I managed to gently distract him.
Palace Hotel, Broken Hill NSW
We had a rare afternoon drink in the Palace’s Sidebar, followed by a gentle stroll up and down the main drag (pun intended). It’s called Argent Street, along with other road names like Oxide and Sulphite, reflecting the town’s mining history.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
Later, after a long soak in the deep tub of our olde-worlde and stylish en-suite at the Royal Exchange – aah! I do miss a bath! – it was back into the Sidebar for a G&T before dinner. The atmospheric interiors are all black-and-white tiles, lofty ceilings, crenellated mouldings, original Art Deco fixtures… and the ubiquitous gaudy wrap-around murals of Outback scenery.
Dinner at the Palace
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
After half-a-dozen oysters ($18), Roy had the porterhouse ($35) with salad; I ordered grilled barramundi with steamed sorrel potatoes and zucchini ($36); and both were very good. Just then, the swelling tones of church organ pipes and choral song from Westminster Abbey, screened live on the large TV on the bar stage, called us to watch the funeral of Queen Elizabeth II.
For anyone who might not know it, Australia is not just part of the Commonwealth of Nations: it’s actually ruled by the British Monarch of the day, if only constitutionally. Oz’s new PM has said this is not the time to debate the Republican question. And of course it’s not; not when King Charles III is slated for a Royal Visit in 2024!
On a more practical note, when you look at the appalling *embarrassmentof politicians (though they may arguably be no worse than those of many other countries), it’s hard to imagine how they would find a suitable President to head a future Republic of Australia.
*embarrassment: used here as a collective noun
DAY 8: Broken Hill to Cobar (458 km)
We’re still on the A32, the Barrier Highway, with nothing between Broken Hill and Cobar… except for Willcannia (after 200km), a small town that heartily annoyed me because the service station where we stopped for fuel didn’t have a toilet.
Broken Hill to Cobar NSW, along the Barrier Highway A32
Fortunately, I’d already pulled over earlier at Little Topar Roadhouse for an unsanctioned pee-stop – even though we hadn’t covered much ground yet and I could hear Roy’s eyes rolling.
Best pic of the whole journey – delightful animals at Little Topar Roadhouse on the A32 Barrier Highway
Behind the lavatorial outhouses at the back of Little Topar were these wonderfully photogenic animals, all of which he had raised from young, said the old man in a leather bush-hat and black eye-patch who made our coffees. (As he clearly didn’t like the sound of almond milk, I don’t think he’d appreciate being called a barista; neither did I think he’d regard being photographed for this blog as an honour.)
In answer to my questioning, he said: No, he’s not allowed to milk his beasts; raw milk is forbidden. Nor may he slaughter* them; that has to be done through a government agency. He’s not allowed chickens, either; only stamped eggs may be sold, or, indeed, eaten. Posing as health and safety regulation, this just sounds wrong to me. We’re in the middle of f**ing nowhere, after all. Little Topar roadhouse was for sale, and I wasn’t surprised. If I’m this annoyed, can you imagine how pissed off he must be?
*That said, it’s very hard to imagine our barista-herdsman actually wanting to slaughter any of his respectively woolly and furry family.
Between the toilet-shy Willcannia and our destination today, Cobar, is another ray of sunshine in the form of Emmdale Roadhouse. Offering a surprising variety of lactose-free, almond and soy milk, it had a sign saying: “Life is too short for bad coffee” – and this truly was good coffee.
Emmdale RoadhouseCamera-shy barista at Emmdale Roadhouse, stubbornly refusing to look up
In such a small, out of the way kind of place, it would have been rude to ignore another sign thoughtfully advertising gluten-free muffins. That said, separate signs offered a variety of whisky and other hard tack, which I didn’t follow up on.
“Still Life with Roy and Macramé” – Emmdale Roadhouse, 2022
Cobar
Cobar is an Outback mining town in NSW, as this hoarding faithfully represents:
Cobar NSW
The huge Great Western Hotel (below), built in 1898, is said to have the longest cast-iron and timber verandah and balcony in Australia. Imagine how many miners must have graced it with their presence. (Not to mention darkened its doors.)
Great Western Hotel, Cobar NSWGumnut gift shop and café, Cobar NSW
Apparently, Cobar is a popular stop for holiday travellers in wintertime. That would explain the unlikely existence of Gumnut, a thriving and upmarket gift shop with an attractive courtyard café that brews up up a good flat white. (Extra shot, extra hot, two sweeteners.)
Cobar Caravan Park
At the time of booking, all that was available at Cobar Caravan Park was a fairly dreary Budget Double Room cabin. (For me as a Genius Level 3 member, it was just $127 from booking.com.) The new cabins to the rear of the park look, and no doubt are, quite a lot better. As for the campsite, it was the scene of much walking of small dogs, and it looked fine.
DAY 9: Cobar to Coonabarabran (390km)
Following our shortest-route-from-A-to-B plan, we took the Oxley Highway to Coonabarabran via Nevertire, Warren and Gilgandra. This was our one rainy day – and it truly poured for hours and hours, making driving challenging.
Nevertire, a rural village located at the junction of Mitchell and Oxley Highway, is described as “a typical little one-pub railway town” with a dozen houses, which exists for grain collection. Spotting the XXXX sign on a building, I requested the driver to pull over immediately. If Nevertire was a one-pub town, this had to be that pub.
Having been all but destroyed by a mini-cyclone a few years ago, the pub has been rebuilt with all the mod cons. Here it before the cyclone (left), and after rebuilding (right).
Credit: John Flickr
Credit: publocations.com.au
It was currently being managed by a couple from the UK. They explained that this work counted towards the time they were required to work in a rural environment in terms of their visa application.
He was enjoying it, he said: Truckers who stopped there had travelled throughout Australia, and were giving him invaluable advice on where to go, what to see and what to avoid.
She warned us to check with the road travel authorities about possible flooding ahead. There’d been so much rain that the rivers were high and rising… and it was raining really hard right now.
That was good advice. Parts of the road were flooded, but not yet impassable, and I was glad it was Roy who was driving.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
Coonabarabran (Coona)
In such weather, we were not going to be able to appreciate what Coona is most famous for: star-gazing. Thanks to its pristine air, high altitude (505m) and low humidity, Coona is the star-gazing capital of Australia, and several observatories have been established in the area.
Memorial Clock Tower, Coonabarabran
We weren’t going to be appreciating anything about Coona, to be honest. All we were really interested in was getting out of the wet and into the dry.
It was too early to check into our accommodation at Acacia Lodge (a comfortable Deluxe Double Room with balcony, $159 on booking.com; recommended). Fortunately it was lunchtime: and the big Golden Sea Dragon directly over the road came highly rated on TripAdvisor.
I should explain here, perhaps not for the first time, that it’s extremely difficult to get Roy into a Chinese restaurant. Over decades of doing business in China, Taiwan, Japan and other Asian countries, he has been treated to the best of the best in Asian cuisine. As a result of countless banquets featuring rare ghost crabs, soft shell crabs, suckling pigs and the like, he’s become a dreadful culinary snob.
But now there was no getting around it: we were destined to have a Chinese lunch in a big, glossy restaurant in deepest, darkest New South Wales. In fact, the food was excellent, washed down with jasmine tea and presided by a friendly Cantonese matriarch who wanted to know all about our journey, and particularly our children and grandchildren.
My crab and sweetcorn soup and Roy’s hot and sour soup would have been quite enough for lunch; but of course we over-ordered, and had to tapau (take away) much of the barbecued pork omelette and hot-plate tiger prawns with ginger.
(Dinner at the Acacia Motor Lodge was good, too. But I made no notes, took no photos, and for once have no memory of what we ate there.)
DAY 10: Coonabarabran to Goondiwindi (Gundy), 344km
From Coona, it’s about an hour to The Pilliga, which is how Pilliga National Park or Pilliga Forest is referred to. From there, about 50 minutes to Narrabri; another hour to Moree; and another 1.5 hours to Goondiwindi.
It’s pronounced Gun-da-windy, according to the local couple who were having dinner at the Acacia Motel in Coonabarabran last night. (Her actual words: “My mother was English, and she pronounced it ‘Goon-da-win-di’. Wrongly, apparently.) We soon discovered that everyone calls the town Gundy.
Victoria Hotel, Goondiwindi
The Victoria Hotel boasts early colonial Victorian architecture, says the tourism blurb, and has one of a dozen pubs in the town. I count myself a lucky woman if I can coax Roy into one pub, let alone 12.
Victoria Hotel, GoondiwindiCoaxed into the pub at Victoria Hotel, Gundiwindi for a lunchtime beer – and looking quite cheerful about it
Having delicately sipped his way through the smallest size of beer available (a schooner?), Roy mildly agreed to come back for dinner. That was a good thing, especially as just about everywhere else was shut: today, 22 September, was a nation-wide public holiday to mourn the death of Her Majesty, QEII.
The Vic was packed that night, they were understaffed (understandably), and we were warned we’d have to wait 45 minutes to an hour for our steak dinners. We waited for an hour, and then the food arrived so cold that it had to be sent back to the kitchen. Ten out of ten to the indefatigable manager Ben Harrison, who insisted on refunding us on the spot when he heard what had happened. (That must be a first for us in Australia.) Because of that, I would gladly go back.
Opposite the Vic – Another gracious architectural landmark, this one Art Deco
Down by the river
As the weather had cleared, I was itching to explore what looked like one of the more interesting towns on our route. (To be fair, Coona might have had a lot to offer in different circumstances. Though perhaps not.)
So I set off in the direction of the Macintyre River, and here’s a selection of what I saw both on my 6km walk that afternoon, and on my run along the same route early the next morning.
The statue of a famous grey racing horse Gunsynd, whose connection with Gundy is remarkably tenuousStriking sandstone columns, sculpted by Chris Mackenzie in 2001Goondiwindi’s historically significant Tree of KnowledgeFantastic mural art on a water tank next to the Tree of Knowledge, GoondiwindiMore mural art along the Macintyre River – this one brightening up a public convenienceYet more striking riverside art – don’t you love the title?Macintyre River, GoondiwindiGoondiwindi Museum – small, well managed, and well worth a visit
Review: Pioneer Motel Goondiwindi
Pioneer Motel, Goondiwindi
There is plenty of accommodation in Goondiwindi, but we were well pleased with the Pioneer. Our Deluxe Queen Room ($132 on booking.com) had everything we required, and the friendly owner couple told us that whatever else we fancied in the way of toasters, crockery, cutlery and so on was available at Reception. What was more, we arrived a good hour before their 1.30pm check-in time, but they welcomed us anyway and allocated us a room right next to an extra-long parking space.*
*I may not have mentioned one small, worrying niggle that accompanied us all the way across Oz: that our accommodation wouldn’t have suitable parking for the Prado with camper-trailer attached. (In fact, we should have let each place know about this in advance.) Luckily, it all worked out fine.
DAY 11: Goondiwindi to Brisbane (354km)
Did I feel a sense of relief on this, the last day of our journey, as we made our ever-slower way, first through the busy city of Toowoomba and on to the motorway-heavy approach to our destination? No, I did not.
Though I’ve always described myself as a city-dweller at heart, happiest when able to walk to nearby stores, pubs and restaurants, there was something about this unlikely ten-day Outback journey that deeply appealed to something in me.
In fact, I felt I could have carried on – maybe not north to Cairns again, as we did last year (click here for Part 8 of that huge story), but instead right, to… well, to wherever the road might lead.
A good job well done, Roy! – outside our family’s new home in Toowong, Brisbane QLD
Next up? Well, my newly re-established editor role at Expat Living magazine will take me to Singapore next week, so I might have something to say about that wonderful city where Roy and I lived and worked for almost 16 years. My husband will be home alone in Perth, so let’s hope he behaves himself.
Three nights in the Dordogne
