Kurt of Gerolstein: My Winter Palace 2024

This comes to you from Australia. For I am finally back here, in my Winter Palace, after two seasons of enforced absence. Yes, we've been suffering from a period of appalling mal-government down here in the Antipodes, which has turned the lives of many of us downwards, in a sickening, ruinous spiral ... and the quiet, comfortable old age I had envisioned for myself is taking a deal of hanging on to. But that's another story. Which after half a litre of gin I may one day write. Or relate to my biographer.

Last year, Wendy came here without me. After months and months of toiling on the farm, looking after ten horses, eight cats and me, seven days a week, a wee break at the seaside is the least she deserves! But I was in a bad way, one way and another, so I didn't come. I think, now, I may have been wrong, but wrenching myself away from the comfy and familiar purlieus of Gerolstein, from the nightly arms of Schnidibumpfl, and my loo-radar ...

This year ... I'm not sure whether Wendy and Paulie, my two 'spouses', colluded; but Wendy nominated June for her time at the Palace, and Paulie decided on July-August. I would have a 'carer' if I came for the winter. And in a burst of enthusiasm I booked us all in ... booked flights .. even booked massage appointments.

In the months leading up to the event, I had qualms. Several falls, difficulty walking and, a week before departure a sudden rush of blood to the head. Blood Pressure 200/100. I should not fly. Wendy looked sideways and got out our old BP machine. Her version was 128/85. Called in Brett the Acupuncturist. He diagnosed 'white coat syndrome'. See a doctor and the BP skyrockets. He agreed with Wendy. I decided that if I were going to go pop! on Air NZ, then so be it ... so equipped with a ton of Losartan and instructions from Rebecca, the eminently sensible doctor, as to reporting back ... off we set.

Air New Zealand. I normally have no quarrels with AirNZ. Their staff -- ground and in-flight -- are superb. BUT. Their booking arrangements are something else. I booked our flights months ago. I specified 'no cost spared', the best seating, near a toilet, wheelchair embark and disembark, the Works. We were allotted seats in Row 20. I complained at the desk. Bingo! Promoted to Row 4. So, I thought, let's have a peek at who's in Rows 1, 2, and 3. Two seats in Row 1 were empty. Next time I'm saying Row One (where my duff leg and arm can have room, and I don't get whacked by every fat passing person, or stewardess with a trolley!) or NO BOOK. Trouble is ANZ know the only alternative is Jetstar and that low I have not sunk. AirNZ, get some planes with a 1st class that IS first class, and put us legless folk in Row 1, instead of .. who were these people?

The flight itself was splendid. Comfortable (although no pillows, so whacked-out Wendy had to snooze on my shoulder) and efficient. The meal was one of my top half-dozen airline meals of all time. And I can do four hours of Bejewelled wotsit, when it's not interrupted by half-comprehensible 'Passenger Announcements' to which nobody listens, and the most ghastly filmed stuff with cute/killable ?actors advertising or 'informing' ... whoever dreams up this stuff should be sacked. An instruction needs to be simple, clear and with no koala bears or budding Shirley Temples.

So, safely arrived at Coolangatta. The wheelchair assistant was only allowed to trundle me to Immigration, after which Wendy took over. Immigration was swift, polite and efficient, and we trundled on to collect her suitcase (obviously, I don't travel one) and oh gosh! The processes have been smoothed out sensationally ... Next thing, find a taxi ... Another grand experience. The man in charge of the taxi queue was a honey. He trundled me straight up to a cab driven by an adorable young man with a hushed voice and twinkling eyes, who had probably been hoping for a long fare (night time/weekend?). We only wanted to go to the Car Hire place ... Well, I gave him double the metre and Wendy did the safe-box thing and got the car. Its an MG. I don't like it as much as our Suzuki, but it did well to get us down the Pacific Motorway (once the confusing signage was sorted out!) by our projected 9pm.

Home! The Winter Palace.

Will I still love it as I did?

https://kurtofgerolstein.blogspot.com/2016/04/yambanese.html

Short answer. YES!!!!!!!

Long answer .. coming up!

At 2am (how can one be jetlagged after a 4 hr flight?), having realised that I was not dead, I got up and started putting my little Palace back into order. In spite of my STRICT orders that the furniture NOT be rearranged ... it had been. From my arrangement, focused on the view, the sunshine, the sea ... to being focused on .. the TV set. Which I rarely turn on. So you come to Yamba to watch television?

The sun rises behind the palm fronds ...

Sunday morning I began. Clothes that had been stored in the basement had, in two years, become somewhat musty. Four wheelie bins of washing. But first, breakast. Wendy was yearning for her avocado toast, and I hadn't eaten since my Moroccan meal in flight.

When I first purchased my Palace, eight years ago, there was, a few metres up the road, a small ... um ... eatery. Useful, I thought for ... for what? As it turned out: nothing. Just a caff. Rather walk a kilometre down the hill to the delicious Beachwood Café for real food. I was not surprised to find it listed, soon after, 'for sale'. I investigated. It wasn't viable. The premises were leased from the adjacent motel at an horrific rate, and the departing tenants wanted a large extra cash payment for 'improvements'! WHAT improvements? Well, a lovely young couple took it on, did it up, and rechristened it the Sandbar, and it became a regular stop for me for an early morning coffee ... occasionally a bite, but I still walked down the hill to Beachwood or the Thai Payu for my real meals. Or most especially across the hill for the exquisite food at the French Pan Tree. There is so much nice food to be had in Yamba ...

Then disaster! The French Pan Tree closed! And I noticed that the young man was mostly alone at the Sandbar. The lassie had another job. Probably to make up the shortfall from the Sandbar. Especially in the winter season. And then they were gone, too. And in their place was a young Frenchman ... Well, just to say, he has turned the place from the caff of eight years ago into a bright, lively restaurant with delicious light meals and fine coffee ... Wendy gave her avocado on toast top marks, and I had a stack of gravad lax on ... We are now going to be regular Sandbarrers and I don't even have to walk down the hill. Which, I may tell you is very much more difficult at rising 80 than it was at 70!

After this promising start, we headed for the monthly market, near the ferry wharf. It had barely changed while I had been away. We wandered round, and I flashed my nice new NAB card here and there (my old one had run out in my absence, but a new one was waiting me at the Palace reception) and breathed in the sea air ... Next stop, the supermarket to stock the empty larder ... a BP test at Soul Pattison (down from 200/100 to 129/98), Yamba prawns from the Fish-O ... after which I was zonked. But we pressed on. I had more washing to do, the Palace bureau d'hiver to set up ...

Roast chicken for dinner in Wendy's kitchen ... Masterchef? 7.30pm. I was in the Land of Nod by 6pm!

Botero: my favourite tea and coffee joint

Monday, Tuesday mainly devoted to 'settling in', plus a trip to Maclean to buy coffee and tea at beautiful Botero, in the company of Max the kitten, a bag for Wendy and my favourite Slumbies slippers for me ...

Max the kitten

Manufacturing the superb Botero coffee ...

And then, 7am Wednesday, as always, the wonderful Yamba Farmers' market. It, too, had changed but little. And my old friends remembered me! Alas, my very best friend, Warren of the Boorabee Dorper Lamb Farm, was not there. Someone else honed in on his patch and made the long trip to Yamba every week, for reduced returns, not worth it. I shall have to become a vegetarian ... easy enough here! You should SEE the avocados ...

The best meat in the world .... dammit.

But the market, though it yielded up two vast bags of edibles, also proved a nemesis. Nine times I flashed the NAB card ... but the tenth time, at Orchids Plus, the little white box refused me. Odd. Oh well, just one of those things. Pete the Orchid Man grows fabulous flowers (mine has no less than seven budding spikes), but he's not a mechanical genius.

My first Orchids Plus of the year!

But the next purchase it was the same refusal. And when we went back for 'more' at one stall, where the card had been flashed successfully before .. 'not valid'! We stashed our shopping and headed for the bank (which is only open 2 1/2 hours weekday mornings) ... My nice new card was dead as a dodo. Why? It has had a 'stop' put on it? Allergic to orchids? Well, the lovely Yambank ladies have ordered me a new card ... and supplied me with enough real live cash to get me through the 7-10 working days (why?) it will take to manufacture said card ... but it seems I can use my ANZ card from New Zealand here ... ladies and gents, the perils of a 'cashless society'. Don't fall for it!

Thursday already. No appointments. The Kiosk on Main Beach doesn't open Thursdays! So that'll have to be tomorrow. Before our magnificent massages!

Blue sky with some white fluffies which the sailor's trousers are already busy devouring ... it'll be the usual scorcher by midday. Wendy's gone for a wander ... perfectly safe with no bank card!!! ... I have made scrambled eggs to start the day, and promptly got very woozy. Better pop down to Soul Pattison for a re-check .. sigh, it's so blissfully quiet here you could hear that sailor's trousers drop ... twelve weeks of this will do me just fine!

That's the ocean in the background

It comes up almost to the building, out to the left

but the trees and shrubs round my terrace have grown hugely while I've been away, and made a delightful green wall and shady corner outside my office ...

Oh, I should say that the Cove is in great condition. It looks better that when I first came here. The gardens and trees have matured so that I no longer look at the neighbours' houses, the buildings and gardens have everywhere been kept in tip-top order, simply everything around our complex is splendidly organised and maintained.