South of broad

I dont even know what that title means. I think i heard it somewhere, or read it. Who the hell cares right? Anyways, on the weekend, i DID go down south, to Kiama and Berrima in the Southern Highlands of NSW. It's a very pretty area, and well worth the visit if you're ever in town, mainly because it's greener than anywhere else in this state - gets a lot of rain down there peeps.




The occasion was my friend Kama's birthday - and in typical Kama fashion, she chose a winery for lunch to celebrate. Hells yes! Thank you Lord, for boozy friends. I was in for sure, rain be damned. And since Jo is away in NZ, i was even picked up, at my door, for the long drive down. Sounds nice right? Except nothings really that nice at EIGHT IN THE MORNING!!!! (Tony, Kama - lunatics. Out of my bed at 7am on a public holiday?? It's lucky i like you're crazy asses.)




But first, we had to stop at Kiama for the markets. Kama is a secret market-whore. On weekends, she looks up which markets are on anywhere within driving distance so they can go. I know. I raised my eyebrow too. But what can i say, the gal loves homemade pottery. Markets run rife with that stuff. I can't deny her happiness on her birthday. (totally kidding Kama. we've all got a secret shame. mine is broadway musicals.)




It rained on the drive down, but stopped just in time for us to peruse the stalls in peace. Alas, there was no pottery to be had on this occasion. There were, however, some lovely tea towels that i had to restrain myself from buying. Saving for the wedding and all...

Markets at Kiama

A very windswept Kama and I. (what? it's hot.)

The thing Kiama is most famous for is its blow hole. (you guys. come on. i said blow HOLE.) It's absolutely obligatory that you go see the blow hole whenever you're there, even if you've seen it a thousand times before. I'm pretty sure the local authorities stop you on the (one) road out to make sure you have. You can get fined you know. For not supporting local blow holes. *sniggers*

OK. So yeah, we went to see the blow hole, which blew us off by not blowing all that spectacularly actually. You'll find the equally obligatory blow hole pictures below. Thousands of Australian familes have stood in this very spot, having this very picture taken, to be buried in photo albums under the bed for ever and ever amen.

Tony (my man for the day. well. i shared him with Kama. mainly when i needed someone to hold my handbag while i went to the loo), me, Mel and Con

Tony and Kama

Then it was off to Berrima for lunch, which was about another hour further south. South? West? Tony? The winery we went to was called Blue Metal, and their wines were in fact very good. A bottle of their sav blanc is chilling in my fridge as we speak. Nom noms. We had a taste testing (everyone did the whole sip and spit thing except me. i don't believe in waste.) and then shared some cheese and antipasto platters for lunch. By the way, i'm totally into quince paste right now. Contrary to popular belief, my palate is very refined.

After lunch, we headed back to the main street for a quick browse. I say main street as if there's actually more than one street in the place, which there's not. Let me tell you this. Every small town in the southern highlands has a jam shop. Its some sort of pre-requisite. They like to go all fancy with the jams too, and make really weird flavour combinations so that you'll be like 'hey! i can't get tomato and passionfruit jam from Coles! i have to buy this! if i don't buy this now, i may never get the chance to try it!' So then you buy it and take it home and spread it on your toast the next day and think 'wtf is this? why would i want a jam that combines the totally opposing flavours of tomato and passionfruit?' Don't worry if this has happened to you. It's happened to the best of us. Even i was sucked into buying a jam from the jam store on this trip. My flavour? Prickly pear and damask rose jelly. Sounds like something an old lady would spray on her pillow. But there you go, its in my kitchen right now, laughing at me, saying 'i can't believe you fell for that small-town charm and brought me home. you are a pathetic loser. palm me off to your mother as soon as possible.'

Here i am on Berrima's main street, in front of this fancy car that i was bullied into taking a photo with. I dont even know what kind of car this is. Why did i do this? Was i drunk? Can someone explain? Tony?




Spring in the southern highlands means TULIPS. They are everywhere.

I took this photo cause it looked like something straight out of the South of France. In fact, i've never been to the South of France, so i might be way off.

Kama and I, waiting for Con and Mel to be done already in the Christmas store. Yes, there is a Christmas store in Berrima, and those two crazy kids spent like an hour buying stuff from within its dark recesses. You guys. There's a Christmas superstore in Alexandria, 5 MINUTES DOWN THE ROAD FROM WHERE YOU LIVE!

Good wine and food and friends and a lovely way to spend the public holiday.