Ever since I laid eyes on such a crazy cartoon character, I have always wondered what other mysteries that a place like Tasmania, with all its devils, could hold.

Although my time on this Australian island proved both of my Looney Tunes life lessons quite wrong, Casey and I discovered the adventure that awaits you around every corner of this exotic territory.

As we walked the colorful alley ways of the Saturday morning Salamanca Street market and inhaled the crisp 13 degree air, we sensed there was indeed a different spirit about this place. Something undiscovered and untamed lingered around us. Perhaps we were already psyching ourselves up for the ghost tour we had later, but whatever it was, the feel of adventure was unmistakable, and we were ready to explore.

After mountain biking down Mt. Wellington and feeling confident that my fingers, nose, and toes were absolutely going to fall off from the biting cold, we celebrated our survival by heading to a nightly safari at Bonarong Wildlife Sanctuary. It is here where Casey and I were properly introduced to the infamous Tassie Devil.

Was it 6 ft. 3 and twirled around like a tornado? I don’t think so. Casey resembled the cartoon character more than these guys did.

No, these animals were more of a muscular black cat with some rat-like facial features. However, their meow was something straight out of a Hitchcock film. Think screaming banshee plus growling demon.

Before we know it, our guide throws us each a huge leg of raw wallabee meat, and we are to hold it over the pit of these ferocious animals. Rupert, my favorite devil, latched on to the end of the leg, and we had ourselves a good ole fashion game of tug-o-war. I lifted the leg up in the air, and rupert held onto the other end solely with his strong bite. Shockingly enough, the devil won fair and square.

The next day, we embarked on a rather treacherous 4 hour hike up Mt. Amos. As I climbed up the 89.5 degree angle rock face, I thought to myself, “I wonder if I fell all the way down this thing, if I really would turn into a cloud at the bottom?” Gravity did not feel so gentle as I slid down over 4 times due to lack of proper treading and got a nice blue and purple bruise on my thigh to prove it. However, the view at the top was breathtakingly beautiful, and we even spotted a baby whale in Wine Glass Bay.

At the end of the day, we could not deny that Tasmania is a force to be reckoned with. From the Tassie devils and beyond, this island exudes adventure!

However, our time in the Tasmanian wilderness took me back to those fifth grade days of old, and I became enamored with sea life yet again.

After a long day of sight-seeing, our tour group returned to our cabin (think along the lines of a rustic Tasmanian real world house) and cooked a family dinner of spaghetti bolognese and chocolate cake. Our Crocodile Dundee Jr. tour guide, Greg, told us to “eat like your life depends on it because we have a parade to see.”

A Penguin Parade that is.

This is the moment I had been waiting for all day. I put on every ounce of warm clothing I could find to ward off the winter chill and was ready to go.

On our walk to the beach, Greg points out that we know that we are getting close to the right area because of the white stuff on the ground.

“What’s the white stuff?” we ask.

“Penguin poo,” he says with a hearty Aussie chuckle.

Great. So we settle down into our ocean view seats on the rocks and wait. And stare at the waves crashing. And wait. And it’s getting darker. And colder. And we wait.

And finally, I see a tiny black and white speck emerge from the white sea spray. It floats in and out with the surf, but eventually it appears on the sand. It’s a penguin! I am amazed at what these waves just birthed. Nature’s magic trick you could say. Then, I look to my left and 6 more little birds are huddled together, trying to decide if they should stay in the water or waddle to their nests.

“Please waddle, please waddle,” I whisper to myself.

They waddle and frolic over to the other solo penguin and get together to have their penguin pow-wow. To the nests they must go they decide, and we watch these precious birds in their tuxedo attire parade past us and into their holes.

Later that night I contemplated a second degree in marine science.

Casey and I managed to snag a behind-the-scenes tour of this city in Oz thanks to the amazing hospitality of the STA Australia staff. These guys are incredible. If you are ever in Melbourne, call them up because they know their stuff.

After enjoying the posh seating areas, colorful mood lighting, and (my favorite) powerful outdoor heaters on the best rooftop bar in Melbourne, Brendan McGrath escorted us to his blue sports car our tour commenced.

1st stop – Hosier Lane. It is here where we beheld a collection of the funkiest graffiti murals in all of Melbourne. Artists have been painting in this area for years, creating the most unique displays of spray paint; even the dumpsters and bins were covered with amazing scenes of color.

2nd stop – Federation Square. This central building of crazy, modern architectural design looked similar to a massive igloo with its glass cubes stacked on top of each other. As you walk through the ice cube entrance, you will see that this is the city’s hub for shopping, eating, and cultural exchange. The outside boasts an enormous amphitheater for Melbourne to gather and watch movies or see concerts. When you look up, you won’t believe your eyes… and may need to whip out some sunglasses. Why? Because an enormous, glowing sphere has been suspended in mid-air to represent the sun. Yes, that’s right. Melbourne, owns the second sun. There are even lounge chairs for the public to lay on and catch a few rays.

3rd stop – Puff, the Melbourne Dragon fire show. Ok now I can explain the dragons. As Brendan whirls his speed racer car into a makeshift parking spot on top of the central bridge, we hop out having no idea what to expect. The sight of the city at night over the river alone was breathtaking.

Then we hear it. The hissing sound of the dragons warming up their throats AKA the $35,000 worth of gas needed to produce this nightly spectacle. As the clock rapidly approaches midnight, Brendan sprints with us over to the left side of the bridge to get the best seats. As the clock strikes twelve, the first pillar alights with flame and the dancing fire begins. After a few minutes of the overwhelming orange, the five pillars burst with a fierce ball of fire. And these are great balls of fire indeed.

Moral of the story: Travel to Melbourne and have your faith in dragons restored.

The runner slows down and removes his headphones.

“Pardon?”

“Your bats.  I hear there are bats around here.  In your botanic garden,” I ask.

He looked around the Sydney Botanic Garden and attempted to catch his breath but there was a look of confusion on his face.

“I’m not sure what you mean” he said in a kind, Australian accent.

“Bats!  You know.  Sleep upside down?  Hunt at night?  Turn into vampires if you’re not careful?”

“You mean Flying Foxes?”

“Excuse me?”

“We call them Flying-Foxes.”

“Foxes don’t fly,” I scoff at the Australian runner.

“They’re over there.  If you stand up at the highway at dusk you can get the best pictures.”  He put his headphones back in and turned to run away.  A sound similar to “Stupid Yank” seemed to come from his direction, but it may have just been the wind.

While on a park tour in the Hunter Valley tour I asked our guide if there were any Flying Foxes in the woods where we were walking.

“Flying what?”

“Foxes…ya know.  Hunt at night.  Turn into vamp–”

“You mean bats?”

I thought I was fearless, but today I realized how much of an enemy I have in cold weather as I bundled up with my hat, scarf and gloves on the way to our surfing lesson. You tell me what’s wrong with this picture. I could feel the hypothermia entering my body as Casey and I ducked into the cab headed for Bondi.

9:30 in the morning. Wind blowing. Rain drizzling. Temperature dropping. Sounds like an ideal day to try surfing for the first time ever, right?

As the taxi neared the beach, we stared at the rain on the frosty window laughing in disbelief that we were about to surf in an Aussie winter.

When we stepped into the “Let’s Go Surfing” shop, I felt an immediate wave of relief. Wet suits. This was going to be the one item that stood between me and cold-induced cardiac arrest.

Tonya, our attractive surf instructor, eased us into the process. Her enthusiasm for this sport she has been mastering for over 30 years was contagious. I didn’t have time to think about how cold I was because I just followed her every move. From yoga stretches to board positions to reading the waves to paddle strokes, she made sure we had it all down in the sand before we ventured into the water. Stay on the beach as long as you want, Tonya… I am in no hurry to submerge myself into ice water. I’ve seen Titanic. The ending is not pretty.

But alas, the time came for me to face my fears. Casey and I both looked up in the sky before heading in, and there, before us, was a massive rainbow from one end of the horizon to the other. That had to be a good sign; that neither of us would get eaten by a shark or experience death-by-surfing.

As I waded knee-deep into the ocean, I literally could not believe my senses.

The water was warm(ish)! I thought this must be adrenaline talking because there is no way this can be real!? It was a Bondi miracle. The water had not completely dropped to its winter temperatures yet. We had timed it just right because the cold front was coming in a week!

I was so elated by the warm water that the fact that I never completely got up on the surf board didn’t phase me!

Note to self: Always trust a rainbow at Bondi Beach.

Our adventure included everything from riding in Brazilian taxi shuttles that look like squashed Land Rovers,
to passenger drop-off areas at airports,
to chugging bottled water before going through security lines,
to being patted down by a-bit-too-friendly female security guards,
to power walking on moving sidewalks and feeling the superhuman need for speed,
to gates and terminals,
to duty-free shopping (both Casey and myself in need of some duty-free Febreeze),
to planes,
to surprisingly delicious plane food,
to perusing the new movie releases on the screen in front of us,
to testing out the complimentary eye mask and ear plugs,
to sleeping with our mouths shamelessly hanging open losing the battle to gravity,
to more airports,
to middle of the night lay overs,
to metal benches-turned-beds,
to multiple breakfasts as we tested out the best coffee/ danish combos that Buenos Aires offered,
to the endless search for power outlets to charge computers,
to more terminals and gates,
to more planes,
to drifting in and out of sleep consciousness,
to more delicious plane food almost every two hours (like we are talking apple pie crumble and chocolate ice cream bars here… yes),
to jolting awake as the plane hit the ground in Sydney at 4am Buenos Aires time,
to waiting for our hostel shuttle to pick us up as we wearily sat on top of our luggage in the Sydney airport letting delirium set in,
to FINALLY arriving at the vibrant Westend Nomads Backpackers hostel in downtown Sydney,
where we ended our 37th hour of travel by collapsing onto bunk beds at 8:30pm Australian time.

We are officially down under.

“This place stole the 2016 Olympics from Chicago, and I am going to find reasons why it doesn’t deserve it,” I thought to myself when we arrived.

In the bus ride to the iconic Christ the Redeemer I looked out the window at all of the passing buildings and people.  The Copacabana beach flew past us as our tour guide attempted to explain the significance of the city.

“Chicago’s still better,” I thought to myself as we arrived at the Corcovado mountain.

We took another van to the top of the hill and were allowed to walk the 222 steps to the summit.  When I arrived I was dumbfounded.  I was in awe.  The statue, which had been funded my public donations in the early 1930s, was a masterpiece.  Its art deco style made it seem even more powerful atop the mountain.

Our guide told us that the weather had been lousy lately and they had been doing a lot of construction work so we were very fortunate to see it in its full form.  I tried to take it all in while simultaneously digesting an incredible panoramic view of the city itself.

“Okay.  This place isn’t that bad,” I conceded as we made our way back to the van.

Next we visited the main Catholic cathedral in town which had been built in the style of a Mayan temple.  The ceilings rose dramatically and were  lined with a variety of stained glass and religious symbols.  I snapped about a thousand photos and moved on.

“Well that was…amazing,” I thought to myself while getting back on the bus.  The Olympic win seemed more and more plausible with every stop.

We made a few more detours in town before arriving at  Sugarloaf Mountain.  This was another sight that took me by surprise.  We rode in two cable cars between the large landforms before arriving at what had to be the best vantage point for a sunset that I’d ever seen.  Natalie and I took pictures and wandered all around the top of the mountain before sitting for a moment to have a hot chocolate to warm up.  It was truly stunning.

“Well I suppose the Olympic committee knew what it was doing,” I thought as were dropped off back at our hotel.  “I can’t wait to see all of this again in 2016.”

But GAP Adventures threw us a curve ball today.

Our tour guide, Marcus, led us through the favelas of Brazil, which are essentially the city slums.

As he began to give our group a run down of what to expect, Marcus mentioned the current omnipresence of drug lords and automatic weapons and the 200,000 people who live their lives in such conditions.  We weren’t sure what we had gotten ourselves into.

“Our tour begins at the top of the mountain,” he told us.  “In order to get there, we need to ride these.” He pointed to a group of motorcyclists who were idly waiting for us.  We all hopped on the back of one these rickety motor vehicles and hung on to a complete Brazilian stranger for dear life. We took off racing up the crowded mountain, zigging and zagging between trucks and other bikes, all completely uphill with no helmet.

When we eventually screeched to a halt at the crest of the hill, Marcus said, “Now up here at the entrance, you will see young men who have guns and drugs. Do not be alarmed. These are my friends and I follow the rules.  We will be fine,” Marcus calmly stated.

Sure enough, we passed men holding automatic weapons and getting rowdy in the local bars on Sunday morning.  “They are harmless,” he explained as we walked by. “But absolutely no cameras in this area… We don’t want anyone to get shot.”

Our group proceeded into the labyrinth and stopped periodically for Marcus to explain certain aspects of the village. He showed us local artisans, introduced us to children who lived there and pointed out a local child care center that was run by volunteers.

“This is important for you to see,” he told us, “because there is hope that lives here too.”

Despite the weight of the place, he envisioned a better future for this place. He told us of ongoing municipal projects to better the space as well as other grassroots efforts to raise the standard of living.

As we walked out, our heads were spinning from witnessing that side of the city, but we were appreciative to have our eyes opened to reality.  It is enlightening for tourists to see all sides of humanity that exist in a place like Rio to get a more holistic understanding of its culture.

Casey & Natalie

We took a quick bus ride with our group of fellow GAP Adventurers to our big Tango dance class.  I have enjoyed dancing with my friends before (in more of a free-form, embarrassing way) so to go to an official class was a wholly new experience for me.

When Natalie and I arrived we were asked to be seated around the edge of the dance classroom.  We shook hands with other fellow Tango classmates and waited for our teacher’s arrival.

After a few minutes, our confident, bilingual dance instructor  strutted into the classroom.  He simultaneously put me at ease and made me feel quite anxious.

“Tonight we will be learning the basic Tango dancing steps,” he told us.  “Afterward,  we will all watch a real Tango show so you can appreciate how incredible the dance truly is.”

We did a few warm up exercises (walking around the room, positioning our arms appropriately, awkwardly laughing at how foreign it felt to move so methodically) and got into the groove of things.

Men and women were split up as we were shown our gender specific steps and movements.  From there we were mixed and prepped on how to do the full dance together.  It was funny and embarrassing to attempt to move so gracefully with a  complete stranger, but it made for a jovial atmosphere.

After about an hour of these movements, we dined on an incredible Argentinian meal and were then treated to a spectacular Tango performance.  Lights.  Colors.  Singing.  Incredibly coordinated dancing and fancy footwork.  It was a real delight and a chance to truly appreciate how powerful and difficult the Tango can be.

Well Casey and I found them today. Right at the intersection of Paraguay, Argentina and Brazil.

After seeing over 14 rainbows in one sighting of the massive Iguazú waterfalls, I am convinced that this is where those leprechauns call home.  I wish someone had let me in on this secret when my eight-year-old self savored the rainbow marshmallow cereal, contemplating the whereabouts of these little men.

I can truly say that seeing Mother Nature shine in all her powerful splendor today through these roaring falls proved to be one of the most soul-shaking experiences I have had to date.

I first caught a glimpse of the beautiful expanse of water through a helicopter ride from the Argentinian side. I love heights and had never ridden in a chopper before, so I guess you could say this was a big moment for me. When I hopped in the co-pilot seat with my touristy HD cam in hand, I gave my pilot an excited pat on the shoulder “hello.”  Apparently this enthusiasm did not go over too well because he sneered at me with disgust and did not speak the entire flight. Maybe the shoulder pat is more offensive in this country than America. Who knows.

So up, up, and away we went, and my eyes poured over the sea of lush greenery. About five minutes after take-off, I spotted the magnificent falls. If you’ve seen Avatar and remember those floating Hallelujah Mountains with the waterfalls, that’s about what this felt like… minus the floating part.

Then we took a high-speed boat ride up to the base of the Falls and we came face-to-face with the immense beauty. We were speechless. We had never seen anything like it. As we ended the day on a walking tour through the vistas, I could have sworn I saw a short green figure dart away into the forrest out of the corner of my eye. That’s when I knew that experiencing this natural wonder will forever be more valuable to me than 14 pots of gold at the end of rainbows.