Family judgments and passive aggression

At Chris’s and Chris’s cousin’s urging, Chris’s brother offered to host the wider family over at his place today for our fourth and final day of family festivities before everyone goes off and does their own thing until next year. The logic Chris’s cousin used was: it would be easy because we’d mostly be eating leftover food, and given we’d have a much later start (he asked everyone to come over at 5pm onward, as opposed to around 1pm onward for Christmas Day), he “wouldn’t need to do much” because we’d be playing games and chatting mostly. What no one actually did say in terms of effort, though, when it comes to hosting anyone over, is: you still need to… host. That means doing things like, doing what you can (in the leftover food situation) to tally and ensure there actually *will* be enough food); making sure you get everyone fed and hydrated, having adequate stocks of drinks, alcoholic and nonalcoholic; preparing and heating up the food; cleaning up surfaces and areas where leftover food could be; ensuring you have enough plates, cups, and cutlery for everyone attending. Chris’s mom panicked a little when she heard that her youngest offered to host: “He’s never hosted before. He doesn’t know what to do!” and when she asked him what he planned to serve, he responded, “Leftover food… and I can make everyone espresso martinis!”

It kind of panned out the way I thought it would: While Chris’s brother did deliver on making an espresso martini for everyone who asked for one, and he did provide enough plates, cutlery, and cups, he… didn’t do much else. As I expected, his mom took charge of things like reheating the food, laying out all the placemats and foods and ensuring people ate and drank, cleaning, loading the dishwasher, and helping people empty out their rubbish into rubbish bags. She spent most of her time looking preoccupied cleaning or rinsing or wiping something down that I came over a few times to remind her that she should sit down, relax, and eat, that this wasn’t her place. And she gave me this helpless look. “Poor Ben! He’s just all about his espresso martinis and just doesn’t know…” she said, with this sadness in her voice.

I refrained from saying this, but, no, he’s not poor. He’s so far from poor that he has no idea what the word “poor” actually means, in any sense of the word.

So, it was an interesting night at Chris’s mom’s house… I mean, Chris’s brother’s. And what made it more comical were some of the comments I heard Chris’s aunt make to me. Right before we started talking, I heard her ask one of her grandchildren to pass around the snack bowls that Chris’s mom had put together, because, “No one is passing out any food for anyone to eat. Can you go around and offer this to everyone?”

“Oh, just look at him,” Chris’s aunt said to me, with this half look of pity, half look of mockery. “He must not have ever hosted this many people in his life! You think he will ever find someone to marry? What do you think?”

I wasn’t sure if that was a rhetorical question, but I simply responded and said I wasn’t sure. Realistically speaking, how could anyone be sure who anyone would partner up with or marry or divorce or what? But it certainly felt like a jab not just at Chris’s brother, but also at their parents… for raising someone like Chris’s brother, who Chris’s aunt clearly was not very impressed with tonight.

Laksa station for Boxing Day

Ever since late last year, when Hot Thai Kitchen published a video about how approachable laksa broth could be to make at home, I started accumulating a very pathetic, paltry collection of shrimp heads in my freezer, which are being stored in a bag. But I would really love to make from-scratch laksa, by making my own laksa paste. It’s easier said than done, not just from time and effort, but from the mere sourcing of ingredients. Candle nuts are an authentic ingredient used in laksa; they are hard, if not impossible, to find in the U.S. Prawn/shrimp heads are a must for real laksa broth, and unfortunately, in U.S. food culture, while Americans love shrimp, they usually have them with no heads and barely any tails. The prawn heads are where all the flavor is to make a delicious laksa broth. So when we were in Springvale in the first week of our time in Melbourne, I was in the spice aisle at an Asian supermarket and came across some promising laksa pastes. I chose one (based on the ingredients list/least amount of preservatives) and decided I’d make laksa at some point during this trip. As we approached Christmas, I came up with this idea that I’d set up a laksa station on the day Chris’s parents hosted. They hosted today, on Boxing Day (the day after Christmas), so I decided to set up my station: I pre-cooked some cut up chicken thighs, blanched snake (long) beans, tofu puffs, fish balls/fish cakes, bean sprouts, and Hokkien wheat noodles. I omitted the prawns since I figured we’d have enough protein. For the broth, it was really simple and quick: I combined the laksa paste with water and coconut milk, boiled, then simmered. And that was it! As family came in, I ambushed them at the door to ask them if they wanted laksa. They came to my station to tell me which components they wanted, and then I made each bowl to order. It was definitely a different thing to do, since usually on Boxing Day, we have leftovers all re-heated and set up potluck style, but I thought this would be fun to mix things up.

And it seemed like in the end, it was a hit: even Chris’s cousin’s three sons, who are picky eaters, all ate some component of the laksa station. Two of them even said they liked the broth and didn’t find it too spicy. One of them ate my fish balls…. although slathered in ketchup. But you know what? I think it’s a win when a picky eater is willing to eat anything new for the first time. I also discovered some of Chris’s relatives’ eating neuroses: One of them has a slightly paranoid hatred of tofu in any form (he asked me three separate times to make sure that there was no tofu in his bowl) and has passed it down to his daughter, who greeted me with the same paranoia when I told her I had a bowl of tofu puffs. Another relative refuses to eat prawns, and when she found out the broth had shrimp paste, she said she wouldn’t eat it. Then, she subsequently told me excitedly that she is going to Vietnam with her husband, cousin, and cousin’s spouse in early January, but while this may be new and exciting, she’s terrified of eating the food (“No offense,” she insisted, knowing half my heritage is Vietnamese). “I just don’t like eating things that are unfamiliar!”

There is something about serving food to loved ones that always gets me excited. A bunch of relatives kept thanking me and saying it must have been a lot of work. But to me, a bunch of blanching, reheating a pre-made, store-bought laksa paste with some water and coconut milk, and a little stir-frying of chicken actually isn’t too much effort. Sure, it took time to set up everything, but all good things take some time. These are the times it’s yet another reality check to me that most of my from-scratch cooking isn’t done by most people of today; I’m truly an anomaly, even among people who love food. A cousin had exclaimed how amazing it was that I went to the effort to make laksa for the whole family, and to order, and I laughed it off, saying it wasn’t even from scratch; I used a pre-made paste! And he responded, “Oh, no — you don’t understand: in my household, that IS ‘homemade’! You don’t even want to know what we eat at our house most days!”

I may do another laksa station Down Under next year, or another made-to-order station in the same vein. I found this whole thing really fun! We’ll just need to tell people to make less food next year to prevent food waste.

Everyone’s aging this Christmas… and every day of the year

It’s Christmas day today, and Chris’s 43rd birthday. Chris has been telling everyone that he’s been loving his 40s and that his younger brother, who is turning 40 next September, should be embracing this new era of his life. Chris’s aunt and uncle hosted Christmas at their house. We did as we usually did and had lunch/dinner potluck style, so everyone brought a bunch of dishes to share. Given that we had a good chunk of the family away in Canada this year, there were fewer people to eat the food, so there was probably far more food than we really needed. In addition, some of the kids are slightly picky eaters, so Chris’s aunt made some plainer dishes like penne with tomato sauce and sausages in buns to ensure they ate.

Chris’s aunt just turned 70. She told me that she is feeling her age: simple tasks that were easy to do make her tired now. She has had her three grandsons over more often for babysitting because her older son’s place is undergoing some unanticipated renovations due to water damage; sometimes, she’s even had them overnight. She’s gotten stressed feeding them because they are so picky; one of them claims he’s allergic to vegetables or anything green. But she said that with age, she’s also realized she has to just let things go. “Let them!” she’s said to me about her new attitude when people say or do things she doesn’t like or she can’t stand. She said that there’s a podcast she wants to listen to that is literally called, “Let them.” His aunt said that hosting Christmas and events is tiring, but someone has to do it, and she still wants people to enjoy. So it’s worth it in the end. Though this year, she said, she wanted to make things a bit simpler and use disposable cups and plates. “It’s just one less thing to fuss over!” she said. If it’s easier for everyone, why not? Sure, it’s less environmentally friendly, but it’s just a couple days a year.

It makes me wonder, though, when it’s really our generations’ turn to do the bulk of the work for “hosting.” I think it really should be… NOW. Granted, Chris and I don’t live here, so it’s not like we could do it (plus, we already cook a big chunk of the dishes for the gatherings). But I think that given our parents’ generation is getting older and many are already in their 70s, it really should be more on us to do the work for hosting, whether it’s using our spaces (really, Chris’s cousins’ or Chris’s brother’s), setting up, organizing, laying out the food spreads, cleaning up. It’s why whenever Chris’s parents host, I try to do what I can to help set up, cook, and clean up. It especially makes up for the fact that their youngest son doesn’t do any of the above and just rolls in like he’s a guest. Sometimes, I can’t understand why it seems like everyone in the family of our generation is helpful when their parents host, literally every year and every time… except for Chris’s younger brother. Where did things go wrong here?

Running into an American while at an Australian Costco in Moorabin

It probably wasn’t the wisest decision to go to Costco just two days before Christmas to do a bunch of grocery shopping, but well, we did that today. Since Costco has come to Australia, the people Down Under have really embraced it: when we were exiting the car park just past 11am this morning, the queue of cars to get into Costco stretched farther than my eye could see. And of course, as each Costco has local goods for its local markets, you also see things here that you would never see in the U.S., such as Arnott’s Tim Tams, Dilmah tea bags, an endless and enticing selection of Australian shirazes from as far as Western Australia to South Australia, and lots of local seafood, such as barramundi, Tasmanian salmon, scallops on the half shell, and lobster from the Indian Ocean.

While in the produce section of Costco today, I asked for assistance from an employee since Chris’s mom had requested jalapenos and pomegranates, but I wasn’t able to find them. One of them told me that they had run out, and immediately, I heard her American accent. As I thanked her and wished her merry Christmas, she stopped me and asked if I was American, and I told her I was. We talked a bit: she shared that she had been living here for seven years already and was loving it. She came with her husband and two young kids for her husband’s work; since then, they’ve had two more kids and have zero intention of ever going back to the U.S.

“It’s so addictive being here!” She exclaimed enthusiastically. “You really get used to the lifestyle here and how much more relaxed it is. And also, I just don’t feel safe raising my kids in the U.S. How can you when it seems like every day, there’s a school shooting?!”

I always think of that in the back of my mind as the reason that most Americans (with kids) who leave the U.S. for other countries don’t want to move back. I told her I completely understood her view point, and that I had a toddler who had sadly already experienced lockdown procedures at her former daycare/school.

“That’s disgusting that kids that young would have to go through that!” the American Costco employee retorted.

During conversations like these, there’s really nothing you can say or do to defend the U.S. You just kind of have to sit in the contemplation of how deeply disturbing and awful American society has become, to think that school shootings are just another part of living there.

Free babysitting – a rare commodity for us

A few times while we are in Australia the last few years, we have taken advantage of the fact that Chris’s parents are here, available, and mentally/physically capable of taking care of Kaia, so we have gone out a few nights without her and left her in his parents’ care. Free babysitting is not a luxury we enjoy almost ever. One of my best friends babysat for us twice last year. I don’t trust my parents to ever take care of Kaia without me there. And Chris’s parents live all the way across the world from us. So these free childcare moments are definitely very, very rare for us. The first night this trip when we had his parents look after Kaia, Chris was doing a status flight to and from Sydney, while I was having dinner with a friend in a nearby suburb. The second night, we went out with Chris’s friend for dinner and drinks. While both nights out were enjoyable, what we did not expect to come home to (anytime between the hours of 9:30-10:30pm) was an awake Kaia Pookie. Kaia was holding out for us to come home and refused to let her grandma and grandpa put her to sleep. She fussed endlessly, making every excuse not to sleep. She even duped Chris’s mom into giving her more food after she had already brushed her teeth.

One night when we came back, we found her nestled in between them on the floor bed with an air mattress. She was lying on the bed, acting cheeky. Chris’s dad was pretty much passed out on the bed, while Chris’s mom looked exhausted and was attempting to soothe her into a much needed sleep. She saw us and immediately demanded to have daddy put her to bed. The next night, we both gave up, and she just slept in between us on our bed.

The older she gets, the more cunning and clever she becomes. I was hoping she’d just tire herself out and pass out from exhaustion, but she worked really hard to fight it off until we came home. More late nights are to come with Christmas quickly approaching, so this will be a temporary period of an increase in later-than-ideal bedtimes. But wow, her perseverance at such an early age is quite impressive.. even if I am not thrilled about her disrupted sleep cycles. I hope she can apply this perseverance to other parts of her life as she gets older.

Kaia attempts chopsticks at Lulu’s Char Koay Teow – a proud parent moment

A colleague of mine was telling me that despite having a PhD, well-paying job and successful career, a husband, and two twin boys, her dad has never really expressed pride for all she has accomplished. She is ethnically Indian, born and raised in the U.S., and said that when she started getting into making dosas (which she wasn’t raised with since her family is Punjabi), she *really* got into it and did many iterations of dosa batter to perfect her technique. When she mastered her batter, she then moved onto mastering getting it into the perfect flat, crispy circle on her tawa pan. And when she got it to where she was comfortable serving it to her relatives, she asked her dad to come over and be the ultimate judge. Her dad watched her carefully ladle the dosa batter onto the pan and spread the batter into a large, flat circle. And he grinned widely.

“Anita, you have mastered dosa!” he exclaimed. “This is my proudest moment as your father!”

She said to me, “Really? THAT was his proudest moment? The stupid dosa makes him prouder than everything I did throughout school, even my PhD, or the grandkids I gave him?!”

But it made me think about how proud I feel when Kaia masters things like… navigating around a lychee or cherry pit; when she was a baby and learned to “chew, chew, chew” before swallowing; when she cleaned her chicken drumstick of all the meat so that it was dryer than dry. And I was reminded once again of this feeling of pride when we saw Kaia at Lulu’s Char Koay Teow yesterday, clearly expending a lot of energy and focus in trying to master the art of using chopsticks to serve oneself food. Though she has been gifted two pairs of training chopsticks, we actually haven’t given them to her to try yet. In the meantime, she’s been demanding to use the regular chopsticks at our tables when dining out. At this meal, she attempted many times, failed a number of times, but simply just kept on going. She was successful more times than I could count getting the noodles into her mouth, and each time, she had a look of self-satisfaction on her face as she glanced at both of us for approval.

Everything has its season, as I was reminded by my night nurse three years ago, and as I am always reminded by parents of much older and adult children, and, well, as I remind myself all the time now. Kaia may not have cured cancer or earned a PhD at age 3. But the things she has mastered and is currently working hard on now, that are also seemingly age appropriate, are also worthy of recognition and praise. And so that’s why I love to sit in my moments of pride admiring her and appreciate it all for what it is.

Regarding my colleague’s story, this is how I replied, “I don’t know… I’m going to have to side with your dad on this one.”

Kilos and kilos of fruit at Queen Victoria Market, along with my favorite cheesemonger in the entire world

We went to Queen Vic Market today for our annual visit to one of the best damn markets in all of Australia. Today, we probably bought the largest haul of produce that we’ve ever gotten from Queen Vic: multiple bunches of choy sum, gai lan, and snake beans (Chinese long beans); eight massive Kensington Pride mangoes, twelve passion fruits (that were quite heavy for their size!); two kilos of super pink and sweet lychees, a kilo of Tasmanian cherries. The Asian vendor who sold us the greens was very particular about his produce, as he didn’t want us touching anything. We told him what we wanted and the quantity, and instead of grabbing the ones on display, he went to his massive buckets of greens, all soaked in ice-cold water, took out which bunches he thought looked good, did a quick rinse, then shook them out and placed them in a bag for us. All of his vegetables looked photogenic and perfect, and the prices were insanely low (especially once you converted them from AUD to USD). The Kensington Pride mangoes seemed like they were perfuming the entire open market; all I could smell was their sweet, honey-like perfume walking up and down the large, wide aisles. We sampled sweet cherries and lychees and sniffed fragrant passion fruits and other local fruit along the way. And in between tasting all this fresh, local fruit, we enjoyed a delicious canele and a fat slice of pistachio basque cheesecake from a French pastry vendor called Lemon and Butter. While the canele was certainly good, Chris and I were both totally blown away by how rich the pistachio flavor was in the basque cheesecake. I’d never had a basque cheesecake flavored with pistachio before today. And I figured that the baker must have used really high quality pistachio paste to make this absolutely perfect slice.

Another important stop at Queen Vic for me since last year that we made again today was at Ripe, the only all-Australian artisanal cheese market in the world. Hakim, the Singaporean-born owner, greeted us with friendliness and warmth from the moment we walked up to his stall last year. And I remember feeling thrilled to give this guy business. Most wineries and fromageries historically have been White-owned and run, and frankly, they also have a reputation for having an air of pretension and snobbery… especially when serving us since we don’t look like them. But Hakim was anything but that. He gave us samples, explained in laymen’s terms how the cheeses were produced and what flavors to expect, and was just an all around happy, fun, passionate-about-cheese guy. Last year, we purchased three cheeses to enjoy together as a family. When we walked up to his stall again today, he immediately recognized us (“Hey! You came here this time last year!”), gave us a very warm, toothy smile, and welcomed us back to the Southern Hemisphere. This year, we also picked up another three decadent cheeses, with one repeat from last year: the Silver Wattle, which he describes as a soft, bloomy lactic cheese in the style of St. Marcellin. It’s fudgy and lemony when young; soft, creamy, luxurious when ripe. Because it is pre-packaged and weighed in a cute little wooden round, we were not able to sample it, but that flavor stayed with me in how indulgent, rich, and multifaceted the flavor was. In addition to the Silver Wattle re-purchase, we also sampled and purchased the Ashed Triple Cream Brie (“Australia’s best brie: rolled in charcoal which enhances the creamy, nutty flavor of this fabulous cheese”) and the Banksia Reserve, “made traditionally like in France. It is aged more than one year. It is pungent and brothy/umami with age, satisfying with good length of flavour.” This is the second time we’ve spent a good deal of money ($59 AUD, or about $37 USD on fancy cheese) ever to bring home and enjoy, but what the heck — why not? I love supporting his friendly business, and he clearly has delicious, high quality stuff.

A couple other notable things we left with: over 1.125 liters of freshly pressed sugar cane juice from a sugar cane truck (WHEN HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A SUGAR CANE TRUCK ANYWHERE?), plus an ube “Morkshake” from Mork Chocolate, a chocolate stand I like at Queen Vic. The ube shake is made with a chocolate fudge sauce and matcha swirl, and it was so rich and ube-flavored that it was like a meal in itself!

We ended our outing with a visit to the famous eating street, Hardware Lane, for some char kway teow and char mee at Lulu’s Char Koay Teow. They had perfect “wok hei” in both noodle dishes, along with copious amounts of blood cockles in the kway teow and razor clams (which I rarely get but love!) in the char mee. Kaia got to try and indulge in a cold, chocolatey Milo for the very first time. Milo is nostalgic for Chris since it was a childhood favorite drink. And we got a perfectly frothy teh tarik.

It was a fun, food-filled day. Every time we come back home with huge food hauls like this, I always say to Chris, “We’re RICH!” It definitely feels like we’re rich with all the delicious culinary treats and indulgences we get. I’ve never brought home an entire two kilos of lychees in my life!

Annual Southern Hemisphere meetup with my Instagram friend

This evening, I went to Elwood, a suburb close to where Chris’s parents live, to have dinner at a Greek restaurant with a friend I made on Instagram during the pandemic. Since 2022, I’ve been meeting with her once a year in December when we come back down here. In 2022, we met at a cafe here in Brighton with our respective babies. In 2023, we met at a children’s museum so the kids could play while we caught up. And this year, we actually went out without the kids and just caught up one on one. She seemed really relieved when I suggested we just meet up 1:1 (which was at Chris’s suggestion). She’s had a slightly difficult year, and she was looking forward to the child-free time with me and some wine.

We’ve only ever seen each other three times, but we’ve had a lot of conversations through Instagram messenger over the years. We have a lot in common, as we originally found out about each other through each others’ food handles, and with a shared culture, plus the fact that she’s Melbourne based, it added to our commonalities. Once we ended up coincidentally having kids around the same time, I thought it might even be like fate that we were supposed to be friends in opposite hemispheres. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that there are not only different definitions of “closeness,” but also different definitions of “comfort.” Even though I’ve only seen her in person three times, every time we’re together, it feels really comfortable, almost as though we can talk about anything and everything is just an open book. She opened up to me about her family problems, marital problems, debate about whether to have a second child. She talked to me about her own evolution in terms of her views on therapy, as she’s currently in therapy and had convinced her husband to do couples therapy, as well. I talked to her about my family dynamics, Ed’s struggles and suicide at her request, and we talked a lot about intergenerational trauma and how to heal and move on from it.

Sometimes, you can’t always have frequency of in-person meetups due to, well, geography and life. But I feel lucky to know I have one friend in Melbourne who has no connection to Chris I can meet up with and feel comfortable with when I come all the way here. It’s nice to have someone so far away that will make time for you and look forward to seeing you, even when you originally started as complete strangers. It’s a really nice kind of kinship that I am grateful for.

Koalas: one of the most useless animals on earth that I love

Ever since I was a kid, I have loved koalas. I am very stereotypical in my appreciation of animals in that I love cute animals: I love dogs, koalas, pandas, and kangaroos. I appreciate tigers, lions, leopards, and cheetahs, and I’d clearly be terrified if I ever came across one near me that was not in a cage, but I’d never say I love them. Marsupials are a particularly interesting type of animal to me, as someone who grew up in the Northern Hemisphere, because they have… POUCHES. How can that not be fascinating to a human being, who relies on things like jackets and pants to have pockets to store things?

Probably to the detriment of animals across the globe that we actually need and make a true difference, the entire world is not too much different from me in their appreciation, fascination, and love of cute and relatively useless animals: tens of millions of dollars are spent by people and governments to preserve and help grow the population of koalas and pandas, another cute, fat, and lazy animal that pretty much does nothing. While both are useless and do little to help the planet, we all cannot help but gush and giggle at their silly, clumsy movements and every chew of eucalyptus leaves (koalas) or bamboo (pandas).

So that was basically me when I got to see koalas again this trip, first at the Port Stephens Koala Sanctuary, then at the Blackbutt Reserve. We got to see koalas moving along branches, chewing endless gum leaves, and simply sleeping. And with koalas, because they are so slow moving, you really have to observe them for a while to really see any “action.” Koalas spend anywhere from 18-22 hours per day sleeping. They spend the remaining time awake eating, moving through trees and branches, grooming, or mating. It sounds so ridiculous, but to this day, I could probably spend several hours standing there, watching a single koala move around branch to branch, chew on gum leaves, and simply blink their eyes, and I’d be relatively satisfied as though I were watching a live theater show.

My general sentiment in a weak defense of myself is: I’m allowed to have a few indulgences, and well, this is one of them. Not every single thing I do and like has to be to help the world progress and be better. And I suppose my love of pandas and koalas is one of those things.

“Why are you going there?”

I have a number of Instagram followers who reside in Australia. Some of them actively comment on my Instagram stories, and others I’ve actually had some private conversations with via Instagram messenger. One of them lives in Sydney, and she asked how long I’d be in Australia and where I’d go. I told her that Chris’s family is in Melbourne, so we’d spend the majority of the time there, but we always do a side trip somewhere else domestically. This year, Chris chose Newcastle in New South Wales. Her response was, “Why are you going there? Usually people only go to Newcastle if they have family. International tourists (like me) don’t really go there.”

I appreciate her conversation, as I do anyone who is technically a stranger on social media who wants to have non-combative conversation or engage with me in a positive way. But I secretly kind of love it when people ask me the question “Why are you going there?” of any place we go. Other people tend to dislike it. But I actually relish it because it’s ultimately indicative of the fact that not all the places we choose to go to are “mainstream,” that they may be roads less taken and traveled to. Perhaps they are gems that only locals or those within a country or given area know about. It’s one huge perk (or what I think is a perk) of having married someone who is from another country with family still residing there: it’s an opportunity for me to immerse myself in that culture and see places that I otherwise probably wouldn’t have visited, or visited to the level of depth that I have.

Places that are on the most traveled-to lists, destinations like New York, Los Angeles, London, Paris, ALL OF ITALY — these are places that need no explanation when people choose to visit them. No one ever asks, “Why are you going to Paris?” because the cosmopolitan city speaks for itself in its name. But there are so many other places less traveled to that are incredible and have special things about them. Back in 2018, I got so many concerned responses, warning messages, and “Why are you going there?” questions from people when I shared we were going to Colombia. Now, Colombia is ON THE MAP. Americans are going there in hoards. It’s one of the “it” places to visit. Endless bachelor/bachelorette parties are happening there.

We spent the day exploring Port Stephens Koala Sanctuary, Nelson Bay, and Tea Gardens today. We indulged in a sumptuous seafood platter, complete with fresh creamy oysters and mussels that Kaia went nuts over. We saw some gorgeous views at Gan Gan Hill Lookout of the Tomaree Coastline. We also spent some time at the beach, where Kaia had endless giggles and threw a tantrum when we told her we had to leave. Who knows — one day when tourists have tired of Sydney, Melbourne, and Cairns when visiting Australia, Newcastle and the surrounds may be next on the map!