Daydream Island (August 9, 2008)

Are there wallabies on your island resort?

There are on mine. Today, Cara and I woke and began packing for our two-hour flight to the Whitsunday Islands on the southern end of the Great Barrier Reef. After checking into our Jetstar flight (Qantas’ version of Southwest Airlines), we breezed through security and headed to our gate. One note – when I say breeze through security, I mean breeze through. The Aussies must either have the best intelligence in the world or are taking their “no worries” philosophy too far -- not only do you not have to remove your shoes or limit yourself to 3 oz bottles of liquids (love it!) but they don’t check IDs either (love….uh wait, is that really such a hot idea?).

Our pilots managed to land our 737 on the rather short Hamilton Island runway, thankfully without going into the water. From there, we collected our bags the “old-school” way, on carts instead of conveyer belts, and boarded our ferry for the 45-minute ride to Daydream Island. For the entire ride, we were mesmerized by the absolutely beautiful color of the water – I finally understand where Crayola got the inspiration for the blue-green crayon.

After a brief stop at South Molle Island, we disembarked at Daydream and promptly checked out our cheese-tastic resort hotel, complete with a stingray and shark-infested lagoon out front, giant plastic tropical fish and disco balls hanging from the ceiling, and family bingo in the lobby bar (for a nominal fee, of course). Further exploration of the island, however, led us to our most surprising discovery – families of wallabies hanging out everywhere, including on the beach and by the pool. I wonder if they enjoy the swim-up bar as much as the other resort guests.

Before dinner, we attempted to walk to the other side of the island, which had tennis courts, shops, a café, a bar and miniature golf. We were stopped in our tracks, however, by the flocks of giant bats flying out of the island’s rainforest to partake in their daily, nocturnal activities. The worst part was the sounds that the bats made, a creepy, high-pitched screeching noise that would give even Batman the heebie-jeebies. Cara also says that it’s not pleasant when they pee on your head. She clearly speaks from experience, so I’m more than happy to have faith that she’s telling the truth.

We made our way back to the main resort in time for the night’s only dinner option, a $42-per-person Italian buffet that was probably the worst meal I’ve had in years. It takes special talent to screw up spaghetti bolognese, but our fine friends at Daydream seem to have risen up to the challenge. Cara and I agree to starve rather than eat at the buffet again and we head up to our room and sleep in preparation for tomorrow’s Great Barrier Reef excursion.