Gibraltar itself represents a geographical and political anomaly, a British Overseas Territory situated on the southern tip of the Iberian Peninsula, just across the Strait of Gibraltar from Morocco. As we drove closer, the landscape transformed completely, and soon we could see what defines the entire region: the Rock of Gibraltar towering massively above everything else, its limestone bulk rising over 400 metres above sea level.

First Glimpse: Europa Point and the Southern Edge

Our initial stop was Europa Point, the southernmost tip of Gibraltar, a flat, rocky headland that marks the boundary between the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. The point gets its name from the mythological figure Europa.

Near Europa Point sits Gorham’s Cave Complex, a cluster of archaeological sites. The complex consists of caves situated at sea level, each containing archaeological and palaeontological deposits spanning over 100,000 years of Neanderthal occupation. In 2016, this site received UNESCO World Heritage status, earning its designation because of the exceptional evidence it holds about how Neanderthals lived. We tried making a spontaneous visit, only to be turned away as the site operates on an extremely restricted access system, with a three-year waiting list to gain entry for serious visitors. The limited access, while unfortunate for us, reflects the delicate nature of these sites, where any uncontrolled traffic would risk disturbing irreplaceable scientific evidence.

The Monkeys on the Mountain: Encounters with Barbary Macaques

As we ventured toward St Michael’s Cave, ascending the winding paths through the Upper Rock Nature Reserve, we began encountering the Rock’s most famous residents: the Barbary macaques. They represent Europe’s only free-living wild monkey population.

Tourists constantly attempted to feed them, despite clear warnings. The animals have learned to exploit this human generosity, demonstrating remarkable problem-solving by unzipping bags and rifling through pockets in search of food.

The Cathedral Beneath the Rock: St Michael’s Cave

The path to St Michael’s Cave climbs steeply on a well-paved road for thirty minutes before reaching the entrance. Several lookout points along the way made the walk up less of a grind.

The cave system itself is a network of interconnected chambers carved over millions of years by rainwater slowly percolating through limestone. Today, the largest chamber functions as a space for hosted concerts, theatrical productions, and opera performances. The cave derives much of its visual drama from its extensive formations of stalactites and stalagmites – mineral-rich water dripping from the ceiling deposits layer upon layer of dissolved rock, gradually building downward from the roof while simultaneously building upward from the floor. Some stalactites hang like pale icicles; others have fused with stalagmites rising to meet them, creating continuous columns of mineral deposit.

The name derives from a similar grotto in Monte Gargano, Italy, where – according to Catholic tradition – the Archangel Michael made an appearance. This connection explains why the cave carries religious significance despite being fundamentally a geological formation rather than a sacred site in the traditional sense.

An installation called “The Awakening,” a light and sound show, transformed the cave into an additional cultural experience. Within this light installation appears an ethereal figure – an angel formed by the projection mapping technology and the natural rock formations.

A Short Stay

Despite the natural and historical richness of what Gibraltar offers, we didn’t linger longer than a few hours. Tourism in Gibraltar often works this way – the territory is small, and its main attractions cluster around the Rock. Many visitors arrive on day trips from southern Spain, explore the key sites, and then depart. We were no different. We faced a 4.5-hour drive toward Granada, leaving Gibraltar behind and transitioning into the landscapes of inland Andalusia.

See more of Gibraltar here

Our private tour guide collected us from the port with an enthusiasm. As we left the port, I spotted something interesting: Morocco’s traffic stop signs read in Arabic script, rather than using the English “STOP” typical in so many other places, which I thought was pretty cool.

Where Two Oceans Meet

Cap Spartel, located approximately 14 kilometres west of Tangier, juts out 326 metres above sea level, a promontory that marks not only the meeting point of the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean, but also the northwestern edge of the African continent. The lighthouse standing sentinel on this rocky point was constructed by Sultan Muhammad IV in 1864, making it one of Morocco’s oldest lighthouses.

Near the lighthouse, a simple sign warned us not to feed the wild boars. The warning carried more historical weight than might first appear. The Barbary wild boar subspecies (Sus scrofa algira) inhabits the forested regions of North Africa, from Morocco through Algeria and Tunisia. An ironic thing is that Islam is the largest religion in Morocco, and they don’t eat pork, so whenever a boar is caught, they may be exported for sale elsewhere.

First Time Riding A Camel

Next, our guide arranged a camel ride on the beach as part of the day’s itinerary. While none of us explicitly asked for it, the camel ride was included in the tour package. The experience proved physically uncomfortable in ways I hadn’t anticipated. The animals had no traditional saddles, leaving my legs to dangle awkwardly while the camel’s gait sent jolts through my body with each step. At one point, the camel began walking the wrong way, and the handler slapped it on the head to correct its behaviour. This moment made me think about how these camels might not be treated well, and how we should avoid supporting such tourist activities next time.

The ride lasted approximately twenty minutes, though it felt considerably longer. The animal moved in jerky, unpredictable motions that kept me gripping tightly to avoid slipping sideways. When the time came to dismount, the camel lowered its head first, extending its front legs flat against the sand before tucking in its rear legs – a movement that made me feel as though we might flip forward over the animal’s neck. The whole experience left me tired despite sitting and with mixed feelings about the ethics of animal treatment in these settings.​

A Cave Made of Legends

The Hercules Caves hold a peculiar place between geology, mythology, and human labour. According to Greek legend, Hercules himself rested within these caves during the eleventh of his twelve labours, and some stories claim that he split the rock to create the Strait of Gibraltar. The cave’s opening to the sea has been carved into the unmistakable silhouette of the African continent, a feature believed to have been shaped by the Phoenicians in ancient times.

Yet the full story of the caves involves human hands as much as it does myth. Berber people quarried stone from the cave walls to craft millstones, and evidence of Neolithic occupation has been discovered within.

Obligatory Arranged Shopping Trip

Our guide’s next destinations were shopping stops, presented with an assurance that we weren’t obligated to purchase anything. Yet the dynamic felt awkward nonetheless. First came a rug shop, where a sales representative explained that hand-made rugs represented an investment, increasing in value over time with use. The pitch was not aggressive, but persistent. We remained sceptical – not only did we lack knowledge to evaluate what makes a rug worthy of its asking price, but the traditional designs on display clashed entirely with our home’s existing décor. It’s also not financially responsible to make a decision on a four-digit purchase within 15 minutes. We left empty-handed. The next destination though, a spice shop, proved more appealing.

The air hung with the mingled aromas of cumin, cinnamon, turmeric, and dozens of other powders and seeds. The vendor offered argan oil, a product for which Morocco is renowned. Argan trees grow nowhere else on Earth, thriving only in the arid and semi-arid regions of southwestern Morocco. We did end up selecting a few spice mixes and bottles of Argan oil to take home.

The Medina and Its Contradictions

Our guide seemed to possess a social network spanning the entire city. As we navigated the historical medina – that dense quarter of narrow alleyways where markets had operated for centuries – people would recognize him, calling out greetings. He’d pause to chat with shopkeepers and acquaintances, his connections evident in every interaction. The medina itself, however, told a different story about time and commerce. Once the true market of Tangier, it remains a marketplace physically, with shops lining the maze of streets. Yet the merchandise had largely shifted: where artisans once crafted goods by hand, now seems less likely.

The architecture retained its character – whitewashed walls, narrow passages designed for foot traffic, the occasional glimpse of a private courtyard, but the economic reality had transformed entirely. Another observation is that, despite French being an official language of Morocco, I heard it seldomly spoken. People spoke to each other in Arabic, and then English to the tourists. I didn’t even need to speak French at all, despite being comfortable enough in it to navigate around.

Meal Expectations Unfulfilled

Our guide led us to a Moroccan restaurant that catered entirely to cruise ship passengers and tourists, which assured us of safety in food hygiene, but a sign that the food wouldn’t be very good. As we sat down, we scanned the dining room and observed an absolute absence of locals. The meal opened with bread and mezze – a selection of eggplant, peppers, and tomatoes prepared simply but flavourfully. The first course confounded us: a puff pastry topped with powdered sugar and cinnamon arrived before the main dishes. This, we learned, was pastilla, a Moroccan speciality. Pastilla represents the sweet-savory fusion at the heart of Moroccan cuisine. It contained some meat wrapped in dough, but curiously topped with powdered sugar and cinnamon, creating a flavour profile we associated with dessert.

The main course consisted of chicken skewers with couscous, alongside beef stew and chicken stew (likely from a tagine, the traditional conical cooking vessel that permeates Moroccan cuisine). However, the dishes lacked adequate seasoning. The meat was tender enough, but without sufficient salt to draw out the spices’ potential, the meal felt somewhat muted.

The mint tea that concluded the meal redeemed the experience somewhat – hot, refreshing, infused with fresh mint leaves that had clearly come from somewhere nearby.

Returning Across the Strait

The ferry crossing back to Tarifa marked a transition from Morocco to Spain, from the medina’s complexity to European order.

Once we’d settled into our accommodation in Tarifa, we ventured to the hotel’s restaurant for seafood paella – a dish brimming with the flavours that a proper stock can provide, the broth enriched by the essence of shrimp, mussels, and fish. After a day navigating tours, negotiations, and sensory overload, the simple pleasure of excellent seafood felt like a proper ending, though ironically not a Moroccan meal.

Our time in Tangier offered cool highlights – the lighthouse, the legendary caves, and the medina’s winding streets. But the day also presented contradictions that made it memorable in unexpected ways. The camel ride proved far more uncomfortable than expected. The shopping stops tested our patience and skepticism. The restaurant catered so entirely to tourists that locals seemed relegated to a different Tangier altogether. Yet we’d glimpsed not merely the postcard version of a destination, but some of the friction inherent in modern tourism – the tension between preservation and commerce, between authentic space and commercialized experience.

You can view the photo album here

How Water Built a “Castle”

We learned from our guide that each terrace is a natural bowl of travertine, a limestone deposited when hot, calcium-carbonate spring water loses carbon dioxide and solidifies. Over millennia the process stacked basin upon basin, producing a 200-metre cliff that gleams as if it has never known a footprint.

UNESCO recognised both the geology and the adjacent Greco-Roman spa of Hierapolis in 1988, ensuring stricter water-flow management so the terraces retain their snowy coat.

Ruins with Stories in Stone

At the hilltop the ground levels into the ruins of Hierapolis, founded by the Attalid kings in the second century BCE.

The theatre dominates the skyline. We hiked up to the top an watched the sunset.

The city sits atop the Pamukkale fault zone, a geologically active area responsible for both the mineral-rich hot springs and the site’s seismic instability. Major earthquakes are recorded in 17 CE under Tiberius and again, even more devastatingly, in 60 CE under Nero. The city was rebuilt with Roman imperial funds, but the threat of further destruction always loomed. Additional earthquakes in the 14th and 17th centuries CE led to significant structural collapse and abandonment by the surviving population.

Within the ruins, stray animals call it home. Among the stray cats and dogs, a turtle stands out, a pet-trade species now ranked among the world’s most invasive reptiles.

The Myth of Cerberus

South-east of the stage lies the Ploutonion, once famed as “Pluto’s Gate”. Ancient writers described sacrificial bulls collapsing here while priests emerged unharmed. Modern gas probes explain the trick: a fissure still vents carbon dioxide strong enough to reach lethal concentrations near the ground.

From the viewing deck we could see the statue of Pluto and Cerberus guarding the gate to hell.

The Bare-Foot Gauntlet

The guide offered us two options to go back into town: 1) to take the bus back, or 2) walk down the terrace – reluctantly, I opted for the second option.

Visitors must walk the slope barefoot, a rule that protects the fragile crust but punishes one’s soles like walking on Lego.

We chose each step carefully, hunting for the smoothest stripes between ridges. The descent stretched only a few hundred metres, yet the stinging pressure made it feel closer to half an hour, each step a tactical decision rather than a stroll.

A Welcome Shift in Flavour

Once we all made it down, our guide took us to a restaurant that happened to be run by Chinese immigrants in Turkey. We slid chopsticks through shrimp fried noodles, a flavour more reminescent of home, something welcome especially by now I was slowly getting tired of Turkish food.

Hot Air Balloons

As we prepared to depart the next morning, we looked back to see hot air balloons launching into the morning sky.

See more of Pamukkale / Hierapolis here

The Stork Highway of Ancient Rome

Walking through Selçuk’s streets during the ongoing heat wave, we couldn’t help but notice the most unusual sight: massive white storks perched confidently atop Roman aqueduct ruins and modern utility poles alike. These aren’t just random visitors – they’re part of an annual migration pattern that has turned this historic town into Turkey’s unofficial stork capital.

Every March, storks return to Selçuk from their winter homes in sub-Saharan Africa. The storks choose the highest points available for their nests, including the remnants of Byzantine aqueducts that once supplied water to ancient Ephesus. Local authorities have even installed special platforms on utility poles to prevent the birds from electrocution while preserving their traditional nesting sites.

Mysteries of the Multi-Breasted Goddess

Our visit to the Ephesus Museum revealed one of archaeology’s most debated artifacts: a towering statue covered in what appears to be dozens of breasts. This is the famous Artemis of Ephesus, but those protuberances might not be what they seem.

The 292-centimetre-tall statue actually represents a fascinating scholarly controversy. While traditionally interpreted as multiple breasts symbolizing fertility, many experts now believe these oval objects are bull testicles, hung as offerings during sacrificial ceremonies. Some scholars even suggest they could be bee larvae, as bees were sacred to Artemis. What makes this debate particularly intriguing is that none of the “breasts” have nipples – a detail that ancient sculptors, masters of human anatomy, would hardly have overlooked.

This statue likely stood in the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, making it a tangible connection to one of antiquity’s most celebrated structures. The temple’s destruction by 401 CE means this museum piece represents our closest link to understanding how the ancient world venerated this powerful goddess.

Where Emperors Built Upon Apostles

The ruins of the Basilica of Saint John dominate Ayasoluk Hill, their weathered stones telling a story of imperial ambition, religious devotion, and inevitable decay. Emperor Justinian I commissioned this massive structure between 548 and 565 CE, designing it as both a pilgrimage destination and a worthy monument to house the tomb of John the Apostle.

The basilica measured 428 by 213 feet, making it potentially the seventh-largest church in the world if reconstructed today. Justinian modeled it after the Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople, creating a cruciform structure crowned with six domes. The builders incorporated materials from the nearby Temple of Artemis and other Ephesian ruins, recycling ancient marble and stones into Christian architecture.

The basilica’s decline began with Arab raids in the 7th and 8th centuries, which forced the construction of defensive walls around the structure. By 1304, invading Seljuk Turks converted part of the building into a mosque, and in 1402, Tamerlane’s Mongol army destroyed it during their invasion. Earthquakes in the 1360s completed the devastation, leaving the impressive ruins we see today.

A Castle Built on Sacred Ground

Crowning Ayasoluk Hill above the basilica ruins stands a fortress that represents the practical realities of medieval defense. The Ayasoluk Castle, built during the Byzantine era around the 6th century CE, incorporates stones from dismantled Roman buildings, including materials from Ephesian structures.

The castle’s strategic position made it valuable to successive rulers. Seljuk Turks expanded it after conquering the area in 1090, and Ottoman forces later added their own modifications. The fortress enclosed fifteen towers connected by 1.5 kilometres of walls, protecting a small community that included a mosque, cisterns, baths, and residential quarters.

What makes this castle particularly fascinating is its relationship with the basilica below. Rather than destroying the Christian site, medieval builders incorporated it into their defensive strategy, using the basilica’s walls as part of the lower fortress complex. This created unique architecture where Islamic military architecture literally rests upon Christian sacred space.

Divine Intervention at the Neighbourhood Mosque

Our exploration of Selçuk’s religious landscape led us to the İsa Bey Mosque, a remarkable example of 14th-century Anatolian architecture. Built between 1374-75 by Syrian architect Ali ibn el-Dimişki, this mosque demonstrates the transitional period between Seljuk and Ottoman architectural styles.

The mosque’s segregated prayer areas for women represent traditional Islamic practice, though such arrangements can appear restrictive to visitors from different cultural backgrounds. These architectural divisions reflect religious interpretations that prioritize modesty and separate worship spaces, practices that have shaped Islamic religious architecture for centuries.

During our visit, we discovered that the mosque offers free Quran copies to interested visitors – a practice that connects contemporary Islamic outreach with the site’s long history as a religious centre. While there, we met a local man who was especially eager to talk to us about Islam. He explained that he hadn’t actually planned to visit the mosque at that time; he was on his way to complete some errands, but on a whim decided to stop by and pick up a Quran for a friend. Instead, he ran into us and was convinced that our meeting was no coincidence, telling us he believed it was divine intervention.

Our conversation quickly turned philosophical. He earnestly shared his belief that the Quran contains the answers to every question in life, presenting it as the ultimate guide to truth. At one point, he shared a rather striking perspective: he said that people who believe in God are the highest tier of lifeforms, followed by animals, with people who don’t believe, especially those who “act like they are their own god”, ranking below animals. I couldn’t help but laugh internally, realizing that by his definition I must be beneath the neighborhood cats lounging in the sun! He meant no offense, his words were offered with sincerity and a desire to share his worldview. Still, I got the impression he didn’t realize we weren’t religious ourselves, or how his ranking might sound to an outsider.

Echoes of the Population Exchange

Our journey to Şirince village, perched on a hillside 8 kilometres from Selçuk, revealed one of Turkey’s most poignant historical legacies. This mountaintop settlement, originally called Çirkince (meaning “ugly” in Turkish), was supposedly named by its Greek founders to deter other settlers from discovering their mountain paradise.

The village prospered under its Greek Orthodox Christian population, who spoke primarily Turkish despite their religious identity. By 1908-09, over 1,000 houses sheltered Greek families who cultivated vines, tobacco, figs, and olives while maintaining their distinct cultural traditions.

The 1923 Population Exchange between Greece and Turkey devastated Şirince’s established community. This compulsory transfer, formalized in the Convention Concerning the Exchange of Greek and Turkish Populations, displaced approximately 1.6 million people based solely on religious affiliation. Greek Orthodox Christians from Turkish territories moved to Greece, while Muslims from Greece relocated to Turkey. The abandoned houses we encountered represent this traumatic displacement.

The Grandeur and Complexity of Ancient Ephesus

The archaeological site of Ephesus, directly connected to modern Selçuk, represents one of the Mediterranean’s most significant Roman cities. As we walked among its ruins during the intensifying heat wave, the scale and sophistication of this ancient metropolis became immediately apparent. A local restaurant owner’s joke about Efes beer – suggesting we walk a few kilometres toward ancient Ephesus since “Efes” is simply the Turkish name for the ancient city – highlighted how thoroughly this archaeological site integrates with the culture. The beer’s naming represents a modern commercial connection to ancient prestige.

The Temple of Artemis ruins, reduced now to a single reconstructed column, still commanded respect as the remains of one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Though little survives of this massive structure, which once measured 137 metres long and featured 127 columns each standing 18 metres high, the site’s significance resonates across millennia.

Ephesus declined through a combination of geographical and political factors. The Küçük Menderes River gradually silted up the harbour, cutting the city’s vital connection to maritime trade routes. Natural disasters, including a devastating earthquake in 614 CE, damaged infrastructure repeatedly. The rise of Christianity displaced traditional pagan worship, while Gothic invasions in 262 CE destroyed much of the city, including the Temple of Artemis.

I was captivated by how Ephesus’s grandeur was engineered. The ancients combined brute force and technical innovation. Iron pins and lead clamps held massive marble slabs together, damping seismic shocks and locking the city’s great structures in place (though unlikely they knew how well that method would stand up to an actual earthquake).

Workers used wooden cranes, pulleys, and earth ramps to raise monolithic columns, guiding tonnes of stone into precise positions.

We realized that knowing Latin wouldn’t have helped us decipher most Ephesian inscriptions. The city’s later inscriptions switched entirely to Greek, the region’s lingua franca after Alexander the Great’s conquest. An odd feeling – usually we lament not knowing Latin, but this time, it wouldn’t have helped at all. Amid these weighty ruins, we saw samples of the ichthys fish symbol (colloquially known as the Jesus fish symbol), scratched into ancient stones, symbolizing early Christianity. In Greek, it’s written as ΙΧΘΥΣ, and is sometimes seen abbreviated using a symbol resembling a pizza cut into eight slices.

The Temple That Bridged Empires

Among Ephesus’s countless architectural treasures, the Temple of Hadrian stands as a masterpiece of cultural synthesis. This elegantly proportioned structure, built around 117 CE, demonstrates how Roman architects embraced and transformed Eastern design traditions through its distinctive Syrian arch.

The temple’s facade tells multiple stories through stone. Tyche, goddess of city fortune, crowns the keystone wearing walls as her crown, symbolizing her protection over Ephesian prosperity. Above the inner doorway, a relief of Medusa emerges from acanthus leaves, not the terrifying monster of myth, but a protective figure surrounded by the Mediterranean vegetation that inspired Corinthian column designs.

Roman Domestic Life Preserved in Paint

The Terrace Houses of Ephesus shattered our expectations of ancient Roman domestic architecture. These luxury residences, inhabited by wealthy families from the 1st to 7th centuries CE, revealed that Roman homes were far more colourful and sophisticated than typical stone ruins suggest.

The houses featured extensive frescoed walls with floral motifs, geometric patterns, and figurative scenes painted directly onto plaster surfaces. Archaeologists have carefully restored many of these paintings, revealing the artistic sophistication of domestic Roman decoration. The mosaic floors display intricate geometric and figural designs, demonstrating the high level of craftsmanship available to Ephesian elite. These restorations represent authentic ancient artwork, not modern interpretations.

The houses incorporated sophisticated engineering, including hypocaust heating systems that circulated warm air beneath floors and within walls, and plumbing that provided both hot and cold running water. These amenities matched those available in Roman public baths, demonstrating the luxury standards of Ephesian wealthy families.

The Library That Conquered Death

The Library of Celsus stands as Ephesus’s most iconic structure, and deservedly so. This magnificent building, constructed between 110-135 CE, served the dual purpose of housing scrolls and honouring the dead. Tiberius Julius Aquila commissioned the library as a memorial to his father, Tiberius Julius Celsus Polemaeanus, who had served as Roman consul and proconsul of Asia. The building functioned as both a repository of knowledge, holding approximately 12,000 scrolls, and as Celsus’s mausoleum – his marble sarcophagus rests in a crypt beneath the building.

Fire destroyed the library’s interior around 262 CE, though the façade survived until earthquakes brought it down in the 10th or 11th century. Austrian archaeologists reconstructed the façade between 1970 and 1978, creating the impressive sight that draws crowds today for both daytime visits and evening light shows.

As we left, we saw people lined up for hundreds of meters lining up to see the evening light show – many of them coming in from cruise ships.

See more images from Selçuk and Ancient Ephesus

Often referred to as “Bird Island,” Genovesa supports immense colonies of seabirds, making it one of the most densely populated bird habitats in the Galápagos.

An Island Full of Birds

Genovesa is a sanctuary for seabirds, and nowhere is that more obvious than along the Prince Philip’s Steps trail. From the moment we landed, it felt like we were walking through a live aviary. Every few feet revealed different birds. First, we saw the Nazca boobies. These large, white seabirds with black-tipped wings and yellow eyes are one of the iconic “Big 15” species of the Galápagos. We saw both attentive parents and their fuzzy, down-covered chicks. Some of the chicks were already testing out their wings, flapping them clumsily as they stood in place.

The Nazca boobies didn’t seem to care about our presence. Some sat in the middle of the trail, forcing us to detour. They didn’t beg for food or try to flee. It was clear we were in their space. They looked at us with curiosity, as if evaluating our behaviour. One was even attracted to the bright coloured shoes of someone in our group. We joked at the bird was imprinting on them.

We also encountered several red-footed boobies up close (another Big 15 of the Galápagos ). Unlike the Nazca or blue-footed boobies, red-footed boobies are smaller and more agile in flight, using their dexterity to catch flying fish. They are also the only booby species in the Galápagos that nest in trees, thanks to their strong, grasping feet. Their nesting behaviour allows them to avoid the crowded ground-level colonies favoured by other species.

We also observed many great frigatebirds nesting. We had the fortunate of seeing the males with their red throat sacs inflated like balloons. However, we didn’t see the closely related magnificent frigatebird, which looks nearly identical but differs subtly in iridescent sheen and eye ring.

Further along the trail, we also spotted one of the iconic Darwin’s finches. This one was a brown finch, and though we knew it belonged to one of the local species, it was remarkably difficult to tell whether it was the small, medium, or large ground finch. These species differ primarily by the size and shape of their beaks, which have adapted to different types of seeds. In the field, even seasoned naturalists can find it tricky to differentiate them without observing feeding behaviour or using binoculars to compare subtle proportions. Genovesa is home to several of these species.

Spotting Rarities with a Naturalist’s Eye

We were lucky to be hiking with someone in our group who had spent decades as a professional naturalist. Her eye for detail helped us spot species we would have otherwise missed, including Galápagos doves nestled in a rocky crevice.

Our naturalist companion was able to spot the elusive short-eared owl. The short-eared owl is the only owl on Genovesa and is a daytime hunter, adapted to prey on storm petrels that nest in the island’s lava crevices. Seeing one is considered a highlight by bird enthusiasts.

She spotted this owl even when swarms of birds circled the crater. From a distance it looked like hundreds, maybe more.

I asked the guide how often people got pooped on by birds, and he said “all the time”.

How Did the Birds Get Here?

As we observed the vast diversity of birdlife on Genovesa, a natural question arose: how did all these birds get here in the first place? Genovesa, like all the Galápagos Islands, is of volcanic origin and has never been connected to any continent. That means every species had to arrive by sea or air. In the case of birds, it’s a mix of seabirds and land birds that flew in from the mainland over generations.

Seabirds like the Nazca booby, red-footed booby, and great frigatebird are strong fliers capable of covering vast distances over open ocean. They likely reached the archipelago by chance during migration or storms, eventually settling and breeding. Unlike land birds, which evolved in relative isolation after their ancestors arrived, many seabirds still travel between islands or even back to mainland South America during their lifetimes.

Land birds, such as the Galápagos dove and finches, probably arrived in earlier periods via rafting or wind dispersal and then adapted to island life. Their more limited range makes their evolution within the islands more distinct and well-documented.

Circumnavigating the Crater

After the hike, we boarded zodiacs for a ride around the inner edge of the caldera to get a better sense of its geologic origins. The steep, eroded walls of the crater revealed layers of volcanic tuff – compressed ash from past eruptions. In places, erosion had carved angular overhangs and caves. The crater rim is breached on one side, allowing the ocean to flood in and creating a calm anchorage for small vessels like ours.

Along the cliff face and the trees above, we continued to see more birds nesting. There were even some marine iguanas resting on rocks.

Courting Frigates and a Nap in the Sand

After lunch, we embarked on another short nature. Right as we began, we passed a sea lions sprawled out comfortably on the sand, fast asleep. They lay there without a care in the world, entirely unfazed by our presence. Many Galápagos animals are not concerned with human visitors, as long as we respect their space.

As we continued, we came across a group of nesting frigatebirds in full courtship display, with their bright red throat sacs fully inflated. They flapped their wings, made rattling calls, and shook their inflated sacs in dramatic fashion – all in an effort to catch the eye of a passing female. The sounds and motions were loud and theatrical.

Our guide mentioned research into their mating behaviours, including experiments where scientists altered the appearance of the sacs by painting them blue. Surprisingly, the colour change didn’t seem to affect female interest. In another case, a researcher punctured the sac to study healing – and it reportedly repaired itself within a few days. These stories underscored how much remains unknown about even the most visible species.

A Cloudy Snorkel and Playful Sea Lions

We ended the day with a snorkel along the rocky beach. Unfortunately, the water was too cloudy to see much underwater life. The coarse volcanic rocks made walking on the beach difficult; a few of us got small stones lodged in our flippers, which rubbed uncomfortably against our skin.

But the snorkelling wasn’t the real highlight. Back on shore, a group of sea lions came ashore and began to play. They chased one another, nipped each other’s flippers, rolled onto their backs, and flopped in and out of the surf in an endless loop of games. Their energy and antics entertained us for nearly twenty minutes.

One thing we noticed throughout the trip was the near absence of native terrestrial mammals or amphibians on the islands. Unlike birds or reptiles, which can fly or survive extended periods at sea, most land animals couldn’t make the crossing from the South American mainland. The Galápagos are over 900 kilometres from the coast, and animals unable to float, fly, or raft on vegetation simply never had the chance to colonize these remote islands.

See here to view the full photo album from our day on Genovesa Island.

Buccaneer Cove: Of Pirates, Gold, and Birds

One of our first stops was Buccaneer Cove, a site with a storied past. This cove on Santiago Island earned its name from the British pirates and privateers who are said to have used the area as a hideout in the 17th and 18th centuries. While records are murky, tales persist of pirates burying their treasures on the islands, with some modern locals claiming that sudden, unexplained wealth might be due to hidden gold discoveries. Some even say that treasure hunters still try their luck in the archipelago, but much of the island is off limits as part of the nature reserve.

We also learned an intriguing theory from one of our guides: a few pirates may have sketched the various finch species they encountered here. While the link to Darwin is speculative, it adds colour to the idea that knowledge of Galápagos finches existed before Darwin’s famous visit in 1835.

Reading the Rocks and Skies

The cliffs at Buccaneer Cove were a patchwork of rock layers, formed by successive volcanic events. The prominent soft rock here is called tuff – a light, porous stone made from compacted volcanic ash. Though it appears sturdy, it crumbles easily and is unsuitable for climbing – ironically not tough at all.

White splashes of dried seabird guano marked active nesting areas, and sure enough, we spotted swallow-tailed gulls resting nearby. These gulls have unusually large eyes adapted for night vision, allowing them to hunt squid and fish by moonlight. Their red eye-ring and soft, grey plumage made them easy to recognize as they perched calmly along the cliff edges.

Blue-footed boobies also dotted the cliffside. These birds are known for their vivid turquoise-blue feet. Despite being skilled divers and fliers, they move with an awkward, waddling gait on land that makes them oddly endearing. Their nesting behaviour, typically right on bare rock or sand, makes them easy to spot during the breeding season. Potential mates evaluate their “blueness” as it is an indicator of their health. A more intense blue coloration is a sign of better nutrition, health, and immune function.

A curious sea lion followed us part of the way, occasionally surfacing to watch. Like many animals in the Galápagos, it didn’t beg for food or flee at our approach. It simply seemed to want to know what we were doing.

As we continued along the coast, we passed two distinct natural formations. One was what our guide called a ‘prayer rock’—a rounded boulder that looked carefully placed, almost as if set down with intention. The smoothness of its surface and its balanced placement made it look like a deliberate monument, though entirely shaped by nature.

Nearby, the so-called ‘elephant rock’ resembled the head and trunk of an elephant carved naturally over time by wind and sea. Its resemblance was uncanny enough that even at a distance, the shape immediately stood out against the cliffside.

We also glimpsed rays moving below in loose formations, visible only as yellow blurs swimming across beneath the surface. At one point, we caught sight of a land iguana resting near a scrubby outcrop. Our guide noted how lucky we were to see it in that area, since land iguanas are not often spotted from this route and typically stay hidden in less accessible terrain.

Exploring the Cove by Kayak

Later, we had the chance to kayak around the cove. I had tandem kayaked before (I wasn’t good at it), but this time I figure out that successful tandem paddling isn’t about synchronization. Instead, the front paddler provides rhythm and power, while the rear paddler makes adjustments to keep the vessel on course through wind and wave. Synchronizing is actually the wrong thing to do because it doesn’t account for how waves push the boat.

The conditions were manageable, but we did witness somebody’s kayak flipping over.

Puerto Egas Snorkeling

Later, we snorkelled just offshore, where we saw schools of fish swimming around – almost like a National Geographic documentary.

I’m not a strong swimmer and felt pretty uncomfortable in the open water. Even with the flotation gear, it took some effort to push past the initial anxiety and focus on what was in front of me. Seeing the vibrant fish distracted me from the anxiety of being in the water.

I’ve been linking a few of the cruise photographer’s images here and there, but the above is a video of the snorkeling that really shows the vibrant sea life below.

Puerto Egas Nature Walk

In the afternoon, we arrived at Puerto Egas. The terrain here differs from other parts of the islands, combining coarse black lava formations with tide pools, beaches scattered with bleached coral fragments, and hardened ash deposits. Puerto Egas has its own unusual history. In the 1930s, businessman Hector Egas tried to establish a salt-mining operation and even constructed a few buildings here. The enterprise failed, and some locals believe the land itself resists commercial exploitation – a sort of “curse” for those trying to profit from nature rather than respect it.

These coral fragments, according to our guides, are remnants of ancient reefs pushed upward by tectonic forces and long since fossilized.

We were fortunate enough to spot a Galápagos hawk, one of the islands’ apex predators and part of the famed “Big 15” species to look out for. It was perched atop a tall, cylindrical structure that looked like an old salt silo – possibly a remnant of the failed salt-mining enterprise once attempted at Puerto Egas.

A pair of brown pelicans performed a coordinated dive nearby. It was the kind of behaviour that still feels dramatic when witnessed up close. Their timing was precise enough to make me wonder whether it was intentional coordination or just well-honed instinct.

We soon encountered lava lizards darting across our path. They blended so well with the ground that we nearly stepped on them more than once.

Eventually, we spotted a land iguana up close, grazing on nearby vegation. These large reptiles are also on the Big 15 list. The land iguana’s yellowish scales, thick limbs gave it a prehistoric presence.

On the trail, we notice trails in the sand that looked like they had been scratched with a stick. Our guide explained that these were land iguana tracks. By following one, we managed to actually spot another land iguana.

One of the more unusual features along the trail was a massive piece of fossilized coral, now hardened into stone. It had eroded into patterns that almost looked like brain tissue, a reminder that this part of the island was once under the sea. Unlike the scattered white fragments on the beach, this coral was intact.

Nearby, we also came across a striking rock formation full of jagged ridges and hollowed-out cavities. Our guide explained that this type of texture forms when lava cools rapidly and unevenly, sometimes trapping gas bubbles that burst and leave behind porous, twisted surfaces. The result looked almost sculptural—like the island was frozen mid-eruption

Later on we stumbled upon another uncommon sight: the skeleton of a marine iguana lying out in the open. It was a stark and silent example of how unforgiving natural selection can be – even here, in a place where animals appear fearless and abundant, survival is never guaranteed.

We also saw amusing sights like a sea lion snoozing on the rocks with a Sally lightfoot crab perched on its tail.

We also spotted a Galápagos mockingbird nearby. While less flashy than some of the other wildlife, they are still an important part of the evolutionary story Darwin would later popularize. Unlike some other mockingbird species, Galápagos mockingbirds are not brood parasites; they build and tend to their own nests.

While Darwin’s finches were less prominent than we anticipated, we did see several. It was a reminder that the islands offer so much more than a single narrative of evolution. Researchers today still visit the island to do research on evolution.

Our guide even made calls to drawing more attention from the surrounding birds, and mentioned that sometimes they may even land on people’s heads. When we asked if he was the only one who could make those calls, he smirked and confidently said yes.

Shipboard Dining

One thing worth mentioning is the food onboard. Meals were generally simple but thoughtfully prepared, with most ingredients sourced locally and sustainably from the islands. This makes sense too since tourism to the islands is a big part of their economy – if the animals here die out, it’s bad for the people too.

The food was also on the healthier side compared to other cruises – the fruit juice they had, while freshly squeezed lacked the flavour that we’re used to because they don’t add sugar. Due to strict biosecurity and transport regulations, only a limited selection of products are brought in from the mainland. For example, any steak has to be pre-cooked before shipping. Despite the constraints, the culinary team consistently managed to create a wide variety of dishes with what they had, adapting creatively.

See here for the photos for Buccaneer Cove and Puerto Egas

Arriving in the Galápagos

Baltra’s arid, utilitarian appearance and developed municipal infrastructure contrasted with our mental image of a remote, untouched natural paradise. We would soon learn that while large portions of the archipelago are protected reserves, people actually live on some of the islands. Once we left the urban areas, we began to see the pristine nature of the islands.

The Galápagos has strict biosecurity protocols in place to preserve its delicate ecosystem. Visitors are not permitted to bring raw items like fresh fruit from the mainland, a necessary precaution to avoid introducing non-native species that could disrupt the islands’ fragile balance. In addition, all visitors must register with the Ecuadorian government prior to arrival and pay a park entry fee (included with the cruise), a process designed to regulate tourism and support conservation efforts. After passing through inspection, we boarded a bus that took us from the airport to a nearby pier. From there, we transferred to a zodiac – a rigid inflatable boat – which ferried us across to our cruise ship waiting offshore.

Life Onboard the Ship

Our ship, the Santa Cruz II, carried about 80 passengers. We were joining a group that had already been on board as part of a longer itinerary. Compared to our past experiences on Seabourn, this ship was a lot more modest. But as the expedition leader reminded us, the point of a Galápagos voyage is to spend as much time as possible off the ship, exploring.

There were no locks on our stateroom doors. We simply closed them behind us whenever we left. In an environment like this, where isolation and shared purpose define the experience, security concerns seem almost out of place. Each of us also received a waterproof backpack and a reusable bottle made from reclaimed ocean-bound plastic – a thoughtful gesture in line with the region’s conservation ethos.

We also began to meet our fellow passengers, many of whom came from the UK, Australia, and Canada. The demographic leaned older, with many retirees onboard, and we found ourselves among the youngest people on the ship. Everyone was friendly and curious, and conversations often revolved around past travels, conservation, and natural history. Dining onboard was communal by default – assigned seating was not the norm – so we rarely had a chance to eat on our own. This format naturally led to many interactions and opportunities to hear stories from all walks of life.

The Big 15 of the Galápagos

After spending the first few hours on the ship getting acquainted with it and going through the safety lectures, the expedition crew introduced us to the Galápagos Big 15 – a list of the most iconic and unique wildlife species in the islands. These include creatures such as the blue-footed booby, Galápagos albatross, and marine iguana. Some, like the Galápagos tortoise and flightless cormorant, exist nowhere else on Earth.

First Landing: Las Bachas, Santa Cruz Island

That same afternoon, we prepared for our first excursion: a wet landing at Las Bachas beach on Santa Cruz Island. A wet landing involves disembarking directly into the water about knee deep and wading up to the shore – a practical approach given the lack of deepwater docks in the Galápagos. The sand here was strikingly white and soft, composed largely of decomposed coral that had been broken down by wave action, fish, and natural erosion over time – a common process in tropical marine environments where coral reefs dominate the coastal ecosystem.

The terrain transitioned quickly from beach to rocky outcrops, with jagged volcanic rock underfoot. These islands were formed by a volcanic hotspot beneath the Nazca Plate, and the evidence of their fiery origins is everywhere – from the black basalt fields to the jagged cliffs that define much of the coast.

First Wildife Encounters

Our first encounter with Galápagos Big 15 came quickly: marine iguanas. Unique among lizards, these reptiles forage for algae underwater and can remain submerged for several minutes at a time. Their flattened tails help them swim, and they often warm themselves on the rocks after a dive. As they expel excess salt through specialised nasal glands, white crystalline patches form around their mouths – a distinctive trait that gives them a crusted appearance. Their dark colouring provides camouflage against the lava, though it also makes spotting them more challenging.

They are the only sea-foraging lizards in the world, and they use their strong, clawed feet to cling to rocks on the seafloor while feeding. Their sharp claws help them grip submerged volcanic surfaces as they graze on marine algae, even amid ocean swells and currents. This adaptation allows them to dive and walk along the bottom rather than swim continuously, conserving energy as they feed on algae growing on submerged rocks and reefs along the Galápagos coast.

Great frigatebirds soared above, using rising columns of warm air known as thermals to gain altitude with barely a wingbeat. The males of this species are known for their red throat pouch, which they inflate during mating displays.

As we moved along the beach and volcanic rock, we came a great blue heron standing on the black basalt. – it’s one of the largest wading birds in the archipelago. With its long neck and dagger-like bill, the heron watched the shallows for any movement. These birds hunt by remaining still for extended periods before striking quickly at fish or crustaceans in the intertidal zone.

The lava gull is endemic to the Galápagos and is considered one of the rarest gulls in the world. It has a dark head, sooty brown body, and a sharp bill, and it often scavenges or opportunistically steals food from other birds and even humans.

This small, dark heron is frequently seen stalking the shallows with deliberate steps, as shown here on an algae-covered rock. They blend in well with the coastal environment and are skilled fishers, often remaining perfectly still before darting at prey.

This brightly coloured songbird stands out starkly against the dark volcanic rock. Male yellow warblers are especially easy to spot due to their vivid plumage and are often heard before they are seen, thanks to their high-pitched, melodic calls.

Vivid Sally Lightfoot crabs clung to the stones, with their red and orange shells flashing brightly against the dark rock. In the past some local communities and visiting sailors did eat these crabs, though they were not a staple food source due to their small size and challenging preparation.

Dotted along the sand were small, round holes were their burrows. They crabs dig into the soft coral sand to create sheltered retreats where they can hide from predators and the heat of the sun. At the first sign of movement, they scuttled quickly back into these holes, disappearing with remarkable speed.

Lava lizards darted between rocks. These reptiles are sexually dimorphic, with males often displaying more vibrant colours and performing push-up displays to assert dominance or attract mates. They play an important role in the island ecosystem, helping to control insect populations and contributing to seed dispersal through occasional plant consumption. This makes them both predator and passive participant in the island’s delicate ecological balance.

Though we didn’t see any sea turtles, we came across their tracks, which nest on Las Bachas. The beach gets its name from the remnants of American military barges abandoned here after World War II. Though the rusting metal is long gone, the name “Las Bachas”—a corruption of “barges” – remains.

After our walk, we had a chance to swim. We brought our own goggles and explored just below the surface. Though we hadn’t been issued our full snorkelling gear yet, the visibility was decent. We managed to spot a curious eel weaving through the rocks and a shy pufferfish hovering near the seabed.

Night-Time Hunters Beneath the Hull

That evening, we mistakenly ended up at the German-language briefing for the next day’s excursion. I had listened to the German announcement, thinking that was where we were supposed to go and in my mind I didn’t even realize I was mixing up the langauges. We got a laugh out of the mix-up later.

We were told by other travelers that at night, we may get to see animals following the light of the boat. We took a peek and got to see some pelicans lingering near the stern, using the artificial glow to spot fish drawn to the illumination. Below them, we caught glimpses of reef sharks weaving in and out of the light, using the same opportunity to hunt more efficiently.

Unlike most cruises where the first day is reserved for settling in, we dove straight into exploration. From the very first landing, the Galápagos began unfolding its natural complexity, offering glimpses into an ecosystem both ancient and finely balanced.

See the full photo album from our first day in the Galápagos here.

Zodiac Tour Through Ice and Water

Our excursion took place entirely by zodiac, allowing us to navigate the icy waters and get a closer look at the Antarctic terrain. The weather was exceptionally clear, offering remarkable visibility.

As we floated through the frigid waters, the landscape around us displayed a fascinating variety – flat, smooth snowbanks, jagged cliffs, towering icebergs, and sprawling glaciers.

One of the more intriguing phenomena we observed was “scalloping” on icebergs. This process forms small, golf ball-like divots on the surface of the ice, created by the uneven melting. I tried looking into the science, but it’s actually quite technical, requiring an understanding of fluid mechanics.

Some icebergs even featured long icicles, a testament to the dynamic and ever-changing nature of Antarctica’s frozen landscape.

In some places, the water was remarkably still and reflective, creating mirror-like surfaces that doubled the visual impact of the surrounding landscape.

Humpback Whale Encounter

As we ventured further, we spotted several humpback whales surfacing in the distance. Each whale’s fin pattern is as unique as a human fingerprint. A website, HappyWhale, allows citizen scientists to upload images of whale fins, contributing to global tracking efforts and expanding our understanding of whale migration patterns.

We watched as they gracefully moved through the water, occasionally expelling misty bursts from their blowholes.

Lounging Crabeater Seals

Seals were another common sight throughout the day. We encountered a few crabeater seals resting on ice floes. Despite their misleading name, crabeater seals primarily feed on krill, using their specialized teeth to filter these small crustaceans from the water.

Up close, these seals are surprisingly cute with their expressive faces that appear to be smiling when relaxed. Their primarily white coats with scattered dark speckles help them blend into the snowy environment. When resting on ice, they often adopt a contented pose with eyes half-closed and flippers positioned as if waving to passing boats.

One of the seals rolled over lazily, seemingly indifferent to our presence. The narrator pointed out that it was a female, identifying it by its ventral slit.

It was a simple but fascinating moment – one of those times when I’m reminded how cool it is to watch animals just doing their thing in the wild.

Gentoo Penguin Spotted

We also saw our first gentoo penguin, perched alone on an iceberg.

The moment was made slightly awkward when one of the guests on our zodiac made an odd catcalling noise toward the penguin only to be swiftly shut down by our zodiac driver.

Sailing Onward

After returning to the ship and setting sail for our next destination, we continued to spot small icebergs with seals lounging on them. One particularly interesting sight was a seal resting on an ice floe marked with what appeared to be either guano or blood stains – perhaps evidence of a recent penguin meal.

The crew has yet again planned another successful excursion allowing us to again see another dimension of Antarctica we did not see before.

The city of Cairns itself seems to be dominated by the tourism industry. Probably everybody is here to visit these two places. Buskers were present in the streets juggling fiery torches, or doing the statue routine.

The Great Barrier Reef

Our journey began with a snorkelling tour to the Great Barrier Reef in the Coral Sea with Passions of Paradise. After a two-hour boat ride to Hastings Reef within the GBR, we were grateful for the seasickness pills provided, which kept nausea at bay. The day was pleasantly warm, with temperatures in the mid-20s Celsius, providing comfortable conditions above water. However, as we prepared to enter the water, we found that even with wetsuits on, the ocean felt surprisingly cold. The tour catered to all skill levels, from non-swimmers to experienced scuba divers, ensuring everyone could enjoy the underwater spectacle.

The reef revealed an underwater world. Colourful coral formations stretched as far as the eye could see, home to a diverse array of marine life. We felt fortunate to visit the Great Barrier Reef at this time, aware that climate change poses a significant threat to this delicate ecosystem. We spotted several species of coral, which I think included staghorn coral, brain coral, and acropora (but I’m no expert).

Schools of fish darted around us, including the iconic clownfish, which we were surprised to find were much smaller than expected (the movie Finding Nemo makes them seem so much larger). These iconic fish, have a symbiotic relationship with their host anemones, and rare venture more than a few metres away.

Other marine creatures we encountered included starfish, and a sea cucumber. The highlight was spotting a giant clam, its massive shell partially open, revealing the colourful mantle within. The mantle is the fleshy, visible part of the clam when its shell is open, and often has a blue-green coloration, which are due to symbiotic algae living in their tissues. The presence of a giant clam is an indicator of a healthy reef ecosystem, as these animals are sensitive to changes in water quality and temperature.

The Daintree Rainforest

The next day, we continued with a trip on the Kuranda Skyrail, a series of gondolas that provide a bird’s-eye view of the Daintree Rainforest canopy. This ancient rainforest is estimated to be over 180 million years old, making it one of the oldest continuous tropical rainforests in the world. The Coral Sea to the north provides abundant moisture, while the Great Dividing Range mountains to the south force air to rise, cool, and condense into rainfall to support the lush tropical rainforests.

Our guide shared insights about the forest’s ecology. The rainforest canopy is so dense that it creates a challenging environment for new trees to grow in the understory. Saplings must wait for larger trees to fall before they can access enough sunlight to thrive, a process that can take decades. We also learned about the cassowary, a flightless bird that resembles a modern-day dinosaur. Too bad we didn’t spot one though, but there was a life sized model for us to see.

One of the most intriguing plants we observed was the basket fern. This epiphytic fern grows high up on tree trunks and branches, forming a nest-like structure that collects falling leaves and debris. The decaying matter provides nutrients for the fern, allowing it to thrive without soil. Another fascinating plant was the wait-a-while vine. This climbing palm has long, flexible stems covered in sharp, backwards-facing spines. These barbs allow the vine to hook onto surrounding vegetation as it grows, eventually reaching the canopy where it can access more sunlight. Eventually it might even strangle a taller tree to death. The guide also introduced us to the powder-puff tree, an plant known for its striking red, fuzzy, spiky ball-like flowers, which attracts various pollinators, making it a vital part of the ecosystem. I was really impressed at how different plants took over different biological niches.

Kuranda Koala Gardens

Our rainforest adventure was complemented by a visit to the Kuranda Koala Gardens, where we had the opportunity to see Australia’s iconic marsupials up close. We were surprised to learn that their fur isn’t uniformly grey – their butts are actually a light beige colour.

The gardens also housed other Australian wildlife, including crocodiles, kangaroos, and wallabies. We spotted a charming little yellow bird in a hanging nest (olive sunbird). Outside the gardens, we also saw a ulysses butterfly. Despite what all the pictures show, they actually have wings that are blue on one side and brown on the other.

Culinary Adventures

Our culinary experiences in Cairns were all hits except for one disappointing skewer meal that left much to be desired, with oddly mushy grilled corn. However, we also enjoyed some exceptional dining experiences.

At the Ochre on the Esplanade, we sampled some unique Australian meats. From the left to right, the emu in the emu wonton was dark and rich, reminiscent of beef but with a gamier taste. Next was the kangaroo, but it wasn’t as good as the one in Sydney. The crocodile meat on the other hand was lean and had a texture similar to chicken, with a slightly fishy flavour. The last item was the usual smoked salmon.

One of our most memorable meals was at Salt House, where we dined while watching the sun set over the water. We enjoyed succulent scallops and barramundi.

The highlight of the meal was the MB4+ Black Onyx Grain Fed Scotch Fillet. MB4+ refers to the marbling score of a steak used in Australia beef grading systems and goes from 1 to 9, with 9 being the best. A scotch fillet is essentially the same cut as a ribeye steak, coming from the rib section of the cow. However, while a ribeye typically includes the cap (or spinalis dorsi muscle), a scotch fillet often has this removed. It’s similar to the French entrecôte, though the exact cut can vary slightly. Despite a marbling score of 4/9, the marbling on this particular steak still tasted excellent, resulting in a flavourful and tender dining experience that would be hard to match at a similar price point elsewhere.

Our time in Cairns offered a nice blend of natural wonders and culinary discoveries. From the underwater marvels of the Great Barrier Reef to the ancient beauty of the Daintree Rainforest, and from cuddly koalas to unique Australian cuisine, Cairns provided an awesome experience of Australia’s tropical north.

Check here to see more of Cairns, the Great Barrier Reef, and the Kuranda Skyrail

While it’s cool to see dolphins, it’s too bad they’re kept in captivity and not able to freely roam the oceans.

Like most aquariums, there’s an underwater tunnel to get a close look at the different sharks and fish under the sea.

As usual, there’s cool shows showing how humans can train animals to do tricks. Here, the sea lions have been trained to follow their trainers around, jump up in the water, and even pose for selfies with people (though I wouldn’t trust them not to pull me in the water if given the chance…). They’ve also taught sea otters to do tricks too.

The orca show is probably the most controversial part of this show. In the past, an orca at Seaworld caused the deaths of three people, sparking a documentary discussing the ethics of keeping orcas in captivity. The main difference now is that the trainers no longer go in the water.

Several orcas in the show displayed droopy fins, which according to some are signs they’re suffering from physical or emotional stress. In some parts of the show, some of the orcas didn’t even participate. In the end, they gave a spiel about how they were contributing to marine conservation and so on, but it just seemed pretty hypocritical. Some people even walked out during it too.

We closed the day off with a penguin exhibit and fireworks. Overall, I feel Seaworld is more catered to people who like amusement park rides more so than people who want to see aquariums.

See more of Seaworld here