It never rains in Perth

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What is it they say about best laid plans? So we were off to a great start with the mad rooters out the front of our house in Sydney. Then we went to Perth, where it never rains.

Yeah, it rained and rained and rained. Which made it really hard to get into the next Airbnb that I had rented in Scarborough, a beach side suburb of Perth in Western Australia. This one allegedly also had a magnificent view, this time of the Indian Ocean. I say allegedly, because at one point I thought I’d never see it. I was trapped in a video game. Or a really bad scavenger hunt. Pokemon Go?

There were three pages of instructions on how to get in and a lockbox that was actually in a different building. And once you got into the lockbox, the instructions were completely different to the emailed ones. We eventually found the place by stalking other residents and following them in before the door closed. It took a very long time. It reminded me of the time I got divorced and a man at the store sold me a piece of flat pack furniture. If you ever see my children ask them about the black TV cabinet. I feel like the words were: “WHO SELLS FURNITURE WITH 17 PAGES OF INSTRUCTIONS. AND GLUE? TO A SINGLE MOTHER? I AM GOING TO KILL HIM.”

Anyway, we eventually got into the apartment. The view was great. But apparently it does always rain in Perth.

We made do by spending our one (rainy) day in Perth visiting the wineries of the Swan Valley. Elizabeth is a manager at Stone Tower Winery in Virginia. She is very knowledgable about wine and she also brought a wine suitcase. I felt it would be churlish to let it go back empty.

So we went to a couple of fantastic places – Mandoon for lunch, then Upper Reach where we met a lovely couple. They told us about another great winery, just a short walk up the road. “You have to go there,” they said. We looked outside. Still raining. “No problem,” the woman said. “I’ll drive you.” So the very nice woman packs Tina and the Americans into her car and drives us to Mann Winery. Bob said: “What if she is a serial killer?”

Elizabeth and I looked at each other. “Have you met us? She is the one in danger.” Our new friend dropped us off in the middle of nowhere. No one died.

It was a magical experience to press the doorbell and await the arrival of the owner and winemaker, Dorham Mann, who came down from his house, just to share his wine with us.

Suffice to say, the wine suitcase was full after that. Well, metaphorically. We’d actually left the suitcase in Sydney for later. And then we lost the wine. But that is a whole other story.

Note: sorry for the delay getting to RWTH4: Episode 2 but there was a writers’ strike.

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