or: “don’t listen to Ronnie the Receptionist”
Driving into Margaret River was nothing like I expected. I was thinking of a big sand dune with surfers, but the town feels like an Alpine resort, a bit like Fox in New Zealand.Heavily wooded in surrounds, there’s the river at the edge of town, and a strip of shops going up a hill with restaurants and supermarkets.
We checked in to some serviced apartments just off the main strip, where they had a very helpful receptionist named Ronnie. She marked a few highlights of spots to visit on a map, told us the good restaurants to check out on the strip, and gave us, on my prompting, what we thought would be the good oil.
After a couple of days, however, I couldn’t help but start to question her judgement…
... full text





