Written by:
Margaret Webb
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this Issue of Curve:
Vol. 14#1
As she slathers my naked body with mud, her hands are warm fish swimming upstream toward my breasts. She has covered my eyes. I can see only what I hear: the trickle of a waterfall, the singsong of tropical birds, the mournful didgeridoo. The mud is an ancient potion, she says, of ancient riverbed salts and wild rosella flowers. It will heal my body and my spirit.
From some distant corner, as if to keep my soul from wandering too far, my girlfriend snaps pictures.
I was forewarned that I would hallucinate.
I am lying naked on my back in the middle of the desert outback when the warm rain starts falling. The Daintree Spa masseuse is manipulating six shower heads over my body — this is water therapy to the rhythm of Aboriginal music. Simulated tropical rains wash away the Mapi muds covering me.
My girlfriend and I have come to Australia on a unique mission: to revel in the sister spirit of the land Down Under. With just 16 days to play, we concentrate our visit to two of the gayest places here: the area around Cairns, where a 100-million-year-old tropical rain forest kisses the lapping waters of the 18-million-year-old Great Barrier Reef; and that screaming metropolis of Sydney, site of the largest and longest queerfest on earth, Mardi Gras.
To the Beach
The Cairns area is Australia’s Key West — only with better weather and a much warmer ocean. There’s no gay center, but the entire area is studded with gay and lesbian resorts, most mixed.
The tiny Top Trop is run by Gigi and Andrea, who traded in their jobs as party organizers in the Sydney lesbian scene for this bit paradise. Set in rain forest trees, a five-minute walk from the hip but tiny Trinity Beach, this rare Aussie pole house is a secluded enclave, more like a tree fort. The house wraps around a swimming pool. A wooden walkway on the second level leads over the courtyard to two guest rooms.
To experience both the beach and the rain forest, we split our stay between Turtle Cove, set on a secluded stretch of ocean, and the newly opened Liberty Resort, nestled in the lush tropical forest in the mountains near Kuranda.
Turtle Cove is the more relaxed and rustic of the two — meals and cocktails are served from a poolside beach bar. Here, the beach is the main event — the boys frolic naked at one end; the girls sunbathe nude at the other.
The Liberty, more remote in its mountaintop locale, works harder at being special. Our two-room villa is set on stilts, has a loft bedroom high in the forest canopy and is decorated with Balinese furniture. Here, we fall asleep to tropical bird song and take our meals in the sexy Tribe Bar that runs alongside two swimming pools, which are connected by a waterfall and lined with rocks and tropical plants.
Though men far outnumber women at both resorts, we feel welcome, even special, like rare birds. Everyone is eager to talk to us. The Cairns area is not an overheated cruise scene. With reef and rain forest to explore, there’s far too much to do here.
Each day, we’re up at dawn, partaking in what my partner quickly dubs “the lesbian Amazing Race.” One day we’re on a Haba dive and snorkel tour to the Great Barrier Reef. The next day, we take a far shorter Franklin Islands catamaran cruise to a deserted island, where we explore a small reef right from shore. Next up is an all-day safari into the Wooroonooran National Park to trek through the rain forest, and see crocodiles in the wild and at a game farm. The highlight is a short hike into Josephine Falls, where we take a natural slide ride down a 30-foot waterfall.
On our last day in paradise, my gal is pooped and wants an evening in — until the limo arrives, with a bottle of champagne in the backseat, to take us to Tjapukai, the Aboriginal cultural park, for a dinner show of dance and mythic tales.
Sydney Beckons
The next morning, we catch a two-hour flight south to Sydney. How to describe this formal penal colony, to which 17th-century Britain shipped thieves, beggars and, so it would seem, their buggers?
We get oriented with a Sydney by Diva tour. Drag queen Verushka Darling has us don wigs and take drag names for her rose-tinted dish on local history. The finale is a drag show at the Imperial Hotel, featured in the film The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.
Quickly, we settle into a perfect gay vacation. Mornings (OK, late mornings), we check out the city’s plethora of gay-friendly and nude beaches, starting with the crown jewel Bondi Beach and a surf lesson at Let’s Go Surfing, run by former national competitor Brenda Miley. In a one-hour lesson, I manage to ride the board for a thrilling 30 seconds. (The sisters surf at Maroubra Beach, five down from Bondi.)
We spend other mornings at Redleaf Pool, a netted harbor pool popular with the upscale Double Bay (dubbed Double Pay) gay crowd; Lady Jane Beach, a nude beach at Watsons Bay, and the Coogee Women’s Pool, an all-women’s ocean pool at Grant Reserve Coogee that’s become particularly popular with lesbian travelers.
Afternoons, we cruise leather shops, boutiques and art galleries in the gayer districts along Oxford Street in Darlinghurst (Karnal Leather has great gear for lesbians) and in Paddington, where Saturday’s huge open-air market attracts hordes of dykes checking out the crafts, art and clothing by up-and-coming designers.
Into the Night
Tanned and outfitted, we head out each evening to sample Sydney’s incredible restaurants, which are often a fusion of the local with Thai and Indian. Our favorite is the cozy Yipiyiyo, just off Oxford in Darlinghurst, which blends Tex-Mex with spicy humor. Four gay septuagenarians from New York — right out of Boys in the Band — pronounce it the perfect gay restaurant after getting sassed by the cute dyke waiter.
On Wednesday nights, the girls gather at Suma Lee, a Thai restaurant in the Bank Hotel. Sitting in the packed outdoor café (picnic-table style) offers an opportunity to rub shoulders and other body parts over hot and tasty bowls of Thai noodles. Afterward, it’s girls’ night upstairs in the hotel.
Bistro Lulu is a cool Manhattan-style bistro that attracts a gay and mixed crowd. From a street-side table (with windows open) we watch lipstick lesbians shop the boutiques of Paddington. To our delight, many stop in to Lulu’s martini bar afterward. Guillaume at Bennelong is our blow-the-credit-card night out. Nestled in the Sydney Opera House, with a magnificent view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, we dine on basil-infused tuna and sealed harvest Springs Bay scallops.
And then, tongues aroused, we head out into the night. BumpHer Bar — a narrow second-floor sweaty venue with occasional drag king shows — serves a younger sporty crowd. The Bank attracts arty Newtown dykes. The lipstick crowd sips $14 cocktails at Gilligan’s and Ginger’s, a mixed gay cocktail lounge in the Oxford Hotel. But check out Lesbians on the Loose for once-a-week lesbian dance nights hosted by various gay bars for dance-till-dawn (or until you get picked up) events. The sleuthing is worth it — while Oz girls have that sun-kissed look of innocence, don’t believe it for a second.
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