People like us don’t have holidays like this! My husband, however, is king of the deals, and this time, he got us a beauty. Five nights in Port Douglas, in a charming place two minutes walk from anywhere in town you might like to go – the main street, the beach, the marina.
The deal involves a bunch of other things as well. Champagne and strawberries on arrival. Dinner at one of the classier restaurants in town. A sunset cruise with free drinks and canapés. And the thing that really makes me feel as though I have slipped into a parallel universe inhabited by the rich and famous: two half-hour massages.
These happen in a ‘day spa’ - whatever that is. When I arrive, they bring a small porcelain cup of ‘herbalised’ tea on a platter with a frangipani blossom artfully displayed. The room where the massages take place has a heavily carved teak double door, which opens onto a small waterfall tinkling into a rock pool which harmonizes nicely with the ethereal music wafting from invisible speakers.
The place we stay is rustic rather than opulent, and perfectly charming, all decked out Balinese-style – contrived but effective. There is a lot of carved teak furniture, stone Buddhas and sliding louvered doors, and everywhere there is tropical vegetation trained around the buildings – creepers clambering up to our little balcony, heavy tropical blossoms, lily ponds. It’s like living in a tree house.
There are two pools, complete with curves and carvings and pillars growing down into the water, bean bags you can float on as you read your holiday novel, a spa of course, and a breakfast café that hovers enticingly on the decking surrounding the larger pool.
I love our camping holidays, our times at the shack at Anglesea, and all the crappy places we have stayed over the years; this is a new experience but I treasure every minute. We are both exhausted; all we want to do is loll, and this place is perfect for lolling.
Before we arrived there, I had only the vaguest idea where Port Douglas was, confusing it with all those retiree places in northern NSW. When our flight to Cairns takes four hours, I realise it is close to the top of Australia, and only an hour’s drive to where Jeannie Baker’s wonderful children’s book Where the Forest meets the Sea is set. We spend half our days in the Daintree rainforest – at Cape Tribulation and the incomparable Mossman’s Gorge – rambling along the tracks, peering down at the thick undergrowth and up at the massive ferns and vines and trees of all descriptions. Magically, it rains in the rainforest. Best of all, we swim in deep pools of clear water.
Actually, although it happens more often these days, we’ve always tried to celebrate the big milestones in style.
There were a couple of anniversaries where we stayed one night at Mietta's in Queenscliff on a dinner bed and breakfast deal that were wonderful. I remember our 25th wedding anniversary, ten years ago, when we rented accommodation in Gippsland that was charming, quirky, luxurious and not cheap. On the Saturday night, we sat in the bubble-filled spa, toasting each other in sparkling shiraz, and listening to the crackly old cassette tape of our wedding ceremony. Both our clergy fathers did the honours, my dad doing the vows and giving the address. ‘Clare and Al are committed to a simple lifestyle…’ said his dear voice on the tape, and we looked ruefully at each other, between sips of bubbly.
Lash outs, however, have never been the norm, nor are they ever likely to be. So I always feel slightly incredulous – is this us here, doing this fancy thing? Which only adds to the already intense pleasure and the sense of feeling like excited kids allowed, for once, to stay up late with the grown ups. You’ve really got to feel a bit sorry for the rich people who get to do these things all the time.