S3, E6: Two Australian Sisters Reconnect on a Trip to Cairns

Ever wanted to meet mentholated ants, discover the forest that inspired *Avatar*, or hunt for living dinosaurs? In this episode of *Travel Tales by Dinogo*, we explore Cairns, Australia, home to the world’s largest tropical rainforest. Our guide is Australian playwright Michelle Law, who took a road trip through the area with her sister last summer. Together, they immersed themselves in Indigenous culture, zipped through the rainforest, and reflected on the mysteries of parenthood.

Transcript

Guide 1: After we pass the next tower, the landscape will dramatically shift, and you’ll enter the rainforest.
Guide 2: You can simply stand and flip that seat behind you.
Michelle Law, playwright: Wow, this is incredible! This is amazing!
Tammy Law, sister: I can definitely see why there's a harness for the microphone.

Aislyn Greene, host: I’m Aislyn Greene, and this is *Travel Tales by Dinogo*. In each episode, we feature a traveler who shares a journey that truly impacted them. This season, we’re sending writers, comedians, and playwrights out into the world to tackle life’s big questions. Today, we’re traveling to North Queensland, Australia, with *Michelle Law*, an Australian writer and actor.

Michelle is the author of *Asian Girls Are Going Places*, available online, and her newest play, *Miss Peony*, will be touring the east coast of Australia in 2023. Recently, Michelle wrapped up her own tour and took a brief trip to Cairns with her older sister Tammy. It had been two years since the sisters traveled together, as Tammy had her first child during that time.

In this episode, we’ll hear some fun sibling banter, learn about living dinosaurs and sinus-clearing ants, and in between those wild adventures, we’ll also dive into their reflections on Australian history and the powerful journey of becoming a parent.

Michelle: Little kangaroo booties.
Tammy: They look pretty adorable.
Michelle: More opals? Oh, look, a marriage celebrant.
Tammy: A chocolate shop!
Michelle: Aw, that’s sweet—like a little bazaar with a cool mural on the side. Mango wine. Ooh! Whoa. Ice cream, definitely. Candy. Do you want some ice cream?
Tammy: Oh, yeah. I wouldn’t mind some ice cream.
Michelle: Yeah.

Michelle: That’s my older sister Tammy and me, strolling through *Kuranda Village* in Gimuy Walubarra country (also known as Cairns). The village’s main street has a laid-back, bohemian vibe, with locals selling kaftans, handmade soaps, Akubra hats, and—of course—ice cream. It’s the perfect weather for it. Even though it's winter in Australia, the tropical climate of Far North Queensland means we’re enjoying blue skies and a warm 24 degrees Celsius today.

We both automatically go for the rainbow flavor, which is really just caramel with a bunch of colorful food dye. It’s the taste of our childhood—something we’d get after swimming lessons or doctor visits. As we devour our cones, we watch tourists browsing coin purses made from dried cane toads and kangaroo scrotums. Typical Australia. Nearby, a group of Indigenous children count their change for discounted spring rolls at a Japanese café, while their elders keep a watchful eye from a park across the street.

Kuranda feels like a condensed version of Cairns: deeply rooted in Aboriginal culture, with a rich history of Asian migration and now a thriving tourism scene. Japanese immigrants are drawn to Cairns for its sun and surf, finding it a coastal haven that’s relatively close to home. Meanwhile, visitors from all over the world come to Cairns to explore Australia’s natural wonders, living out their *Finding Nemo* fantasies while spotting clownfish, sea turtles, and manta rays in the Great Barrier Reef.

Today, Tammy and I are both tourists. Though I was born and raised in Queensland, this is my first time heading up north. And it couldn't have come at a better moment—I've been itching to travel after being cooped up, and Tammy needed a break. This is our first real time together since she had her son two years ago. His name is Coen, and he's the first grandchild, which makes him the apple of our eye. He's a funny, thoughtful, and well-behaved kid, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled about Mum and me heading off.

Tammy: Mommy’s going on a trip with Ayi. How do you feel about that?
Coen: Hmm, mommy. Coco trip.
Tammy: Is Coco coming on the trip too?
Coen: Yeah.
Tammy: No, it’s just going to be Mum and Ayi.
Coen: Coco on trip too? Daddy trip too?
Tammy: Yes, Coco and Daddy will be going too. Sorry Coco, it’s just going to be Mummy and Ayi.
Coen: No.
Tammy: Do you think you’ll be sad?
Coen: Yeah.
Tammy: Aww, are you going to miss Mummy?
Coen: Yeah.
Tammy: Don’t worry, you and Daddy will have lots of fun together.

Michelle: Let’s rewind a bit. That morning, Coen said goodbye to Tammy with surprising calmness. A few hours later, Tammy and I were stepping out of Cairns airport, squinting against the bright sun, shedding the heavy winter coats we’d worn on the plane. It felt liberating to leave that weight behind, the cold of winter. I took a deep breath—sunshine has a scent, you know. It’s crisp and grassy, like fresh laundry that’s been drying under the heat. As we drove down the highway in our rental car, we slipped into the kind of goofy, nonsensical chatter that only siblings share.

Tammy: Want to hear some music?
Michelle: Sure!
Tammy: Crank it up!
[Music blares loudly]
Michelle: Oh my god! Sorry!
Tammy: Sisters on the road!
Michelle: Sisters in Cairns.
Tammy: Sissy’s first time here.
Michelle: I know! I got off the plane and thought, wow, this place is so nice.

Michelle: In just 15 minutes, we find ourselves at the edge of the world’s oldest tropical rainforest. Tammy’s been to the Daintree before, but for me, this is my first encounter with this incredible ecosystem, which has existed for over 135 million years and spans about 746 miles. The contrast between the dense, vibrant greenery and the clear road is striking, like a needle scratching off a record—suddenly, the music stops.

We continue our journey toward the Skyrail cableway entrance, where we meet Marni and Ranger Ben. We’re about to board an open-air gondola that doesn’t resemble your typical cable car. Instead, it looks more like the suspended platforms window washers use on skyscrapers. It actually brings back a memory for me...

Michelle: Oh wow. I absolutely love this! It’s just like the moment they drop the goat into the T-Rex pen in *Jurassic Park*.

Marni: Same concept, but totally different. Same, but different. Yes.

Michelle: I’m so excited to see a real-life dinosaur on this trip. By dinosaur, I mean a wild cassowary. These enormous, flightless birds are native to Australia and are believed to have evolved over 60 million years ago during the Cretaceous period. They are both awe-inspiring and terrifying, standing over six feet tall, their vivid cobalt blue faces, blood-red necks, and bony, helmet-like crests make them look like creatures straight out of another time. With their intimidating presence and ancient aura, they kind of remind me of a school principal—and just like one, they can be deadly if provoked.

Tammy and I strap in, take our seats, and before we know it, all four of us are soaring through the sky, about 160 feet above the rainforest. It’s a thrilling sensation, flying this high and exposed to the open air, much like a ski lift or hot air balloon. Below, hidden in the thick tree canopy, we spot turtles and crocodiles lounging on sun-warmed logs, their resting places in water that has risen after the recent rains. We marvel at the steep cliffs that, we’re told, some daring hikers scale. All around us, we hear the haunting calls of unseen rifle birds, their eerie songs echoing through the air. Suddenly, it hits me—Tammy has a mild fear of heights. Oops.

We disembark and continue our journey on foot, following the wooden walkways that wind through the forest. A few times, I think I’ve spotted a cassowary in the underbrush, only to discover it’s another tourist or a brush turkey. Bummer. Marni and Ben assure us they’ll keep an eye out for any real cassowaries. As we walk, we come across the remnants of an old settlement. It’s strange to see rusted bolts and crumbling concrete foundations in the midst of such untamed wilderness. What was this place? Who lived here?

Ranger Ben: It was mostly, I’d say, white settlers...
Michelle: Oh, I see.
Ranger Ben: They built the old hydro station and dam.
Michelle: Oh, so what kind of homes did they build? Cabins?
Ranger Ben: Here’s a photo—though it’s not a great one. But yeah, they had a post office and even a tennis court here.
Marni: Clearly, they needed a lot of hands to build this place. But once everything was done, they didn’t need as many people to maintain it.

Michelle: Later, we stop for photos on a platform overlooking Barron Falls, an enormous 400-foot waterfall. It feels strangely ironic when we learn that European men and women used to climb down the falls in their formal suits and ball gowns just to pose for photos next to the water. Imagine how hot it must have been in all that heavy clothing, and not to mention the danger—they must have lost a few along the way.

On our return ride, Tammy and I take a closed carriage by ourselves, rushing past a tree so tall its top stretches above the canopy like a broccoli stalk. This is the very tree that inspired the Home tree in *Avatar*, a film that resonates with powerful themes.

Michelle: I keep thinking about the fact that they wore ball gowns—such an interesting detail, don't you think?

Tammy: Yeah.

Michelle: It's just so peculiar, right? Like you're pointing it out, as if to say, 'How ridiculous to do that.'

Tammy: Yeah.

Michelle: But at the same time, they were the first white settlers, coming here without understanding the land. It’s like us—growing up in Australia’s education system, we weren’t taught any Indigenous history...

Tammy: Yeah.

Michelle: —pretty much, aside from Captain Cook showing up, and the fact that there were Aboriginal people here before. Then you go through life, and at some point, you realize, 'Wow, I really don’t know much about the history of this place.'

Michelle: Tammy and I are second-generation immigrants. Our parents came to Australia from Hong Kong in the '70s, during the talks about the region’s handover from British to Chinese control. So, we’re kind of newcomers compared to the fifth-generation Chinese Australians, whose families have been in Cairns since the Gold Rush of the 1870s.

Today, the Chinese community in Cairns remains strong, which makes it feel right that we’re dining at the Golden Boat Chinese Restaurant, a local staple serving classic Cantonese-Australian dishes. It’s one of those old-school places: carpeted floors, vinyl chairs, pink wallpaper, and a paper tablecloth over the usual cotton one. It’s a little nostalgic for us, reminding us of our family’s own restaurant growing up. After we’ve ordered, we look out at the street and spot something unusual. (Sadly, not a cassowary.)

Michelle: Oh my God! Was that a woman on roller skates?

Tammy: It’s a guy.

Michelle: He’s a free-spirited man cruising down Cairns’ main street on roller skates.

Tammy: And he’s skating backwards, too.

Michelle: Yep, skating backward. It’s like he’s at a roller rink, but on an actual main road.

Tammy: With cars and traffic around. That’s pretty reckless.

Michelle: This is Cairns, man. This is Cairns. It’s intense.

Michelle: While we’re watching the roller skater, we realize we’re being watched too. At the table next to us, a white guy, finishing up his beers, is eyeing us. He’s chatting with his friends, but his attention keeps drifting back to us, and as he leaves, he throws us a lingering, judgmental look. Tammy and I count ourselves as one of only four nonwhite people in the busy restaurant. We always take note. It’s strange being in such a diverse place like Cairns, sitting in a Chinese restaurant, and still feeling like outsiders. We grew up here, yet we can’t even speak Cantonese well—something we apologize for to the waiter—but we’re still seen as different.

Michelle [translated]: Our Cantonese is awful.

Waitress: We can understand. But why? I thought you were from Hong Kong all along.

Michelle: Our parents are from Hong Kong.

Waitress: So, you were born here?

Michelle: We were actually born on the Sunshine Coast.

Waitress: Ohh, I see.

Michelle: I think people tend to view Australia as this incredibly multicultural country, which it is—statistically one of the most diverse in the world. But what they don’t see is the underlying hierarchy, the unspoken social structure that exists beneath the surface.

Michelle: Before the sun even rises, we leave Cairns and head an hour north to Port Douglas. We munch on breakfast rolls and drive slowly, keeping an eye out for kangaroos possibly hopping across the road. In Port Douglas, we meet Aaron, a local man from the eastern Kuku Yalanji people of Walkabout Cultural Adventures.

On the tour bus, we hit it off with everyone: a German woman and an American family. It's a bit chilly by Cairns' standards, but the temperature rises quickly as we zoom past endless fields of sugar cane. The harvest is in full swing, with massive trucks hauling the crop. Nearby, cattle egrets—tall, white, and delicate—patiently wait for any insects to be dislodged from the soil by the trucks’ rumbling tires.

Aaron shares stories about his kids, especially his daughter, who loves this country as much as he does. She’s a true bush girl and has no intention of leaving for the big city (which, around here, means Cairns) like most other locals do.

I think about how grounding and reassuring it must feel to have such a deep connection to a place. This is Aaron's homeland. He’s seen it evolve and change since he was young, yet he still turns to the land for food and medicine, just like his ancestors did.

Aaron: Today, you guys are going to learn so much about this place. You’ll be amazed at how everything connects. You’ll look at something and think, 'Oh, this comes from that!'

Michelle: I’m so excited!

Aaron: You know, when you grow up here, you're taught all about these trees and plants, and how we use them for various purposes.

Michelle: Throughout the tour, Aaron frequently halts the van to pick something that, to my untrained eye, looks like any other random shrub or tree branch in the forest. We come across lilly pillies, tart berries known to cure hangovers; silver wattle leaves that, when mashed with water, turn into a thick, foamy soap; branches from saplings that ease toothaches when chewed; and berries near the beach used as eyedrops. Deep in the vines, Aaron emerges with an armful of round, wild passionfruit. We munch on those, along with papayas drizzled with wild lime juice for lunch. It’s incredible how the land offers up everything we need. One of the Americans is recovering from a cold, so Aaron stops by some trees bearing large green lumps the size of footballs hanging from their branches.

Aaron: You see those over there, guys?

Michelle: Yeah.

Aaron: Those huge nests? They’re green ants’ nests. Now, everyone needs to hop out of the van.

Michelle: Yeah.

Aaron: I'm going to do this myself, but you guys should stay back. These little guys are aggressive—they bite.

Michelle: OK.

Aaron: Alright, I’m going to stick my hand in there...

Michelle: Oh no!

Aaron: I'll collect a bunch of them on my hand, crush them up, and then get you to smell. We call it a Bushman Vick's.

Michelle: Yeah.

American: And what does it help with?

Aaron: It clears your nose and opens up your lungs, so you can breathe freely.

Michelle: Aaron sticks his hand into the nest, and within moments, hundreds of large brown ants with pale green abdomens cover his arms. A few land on my legs, and the stings are sharp but brief. Grimacing from the bites, Aaron rolls the ants into a ball and offers us his cupped hands. 'Take a sniff,' he says. We inhale, and it's like inhaling a powerful mentholated vapor. When we try the ants, their green bellies burst on our tongues, releasing a zesty lemon flavor. They're surprisingly tasty.

Afterwards, we stop at two stunning water sites. Mossman Gorge, nestled within the Daintree National Park, is home to several swimming holes. At one of the larger pools, we dip our toes into the water, which is surprisingly cold—much chillier than we'd expect under the hot sun. Neither Tammy nor I are brave enough to take a swim, so we settle for taking pictures of the crystal-clear water, admiring the massive boulders where swimmers bask in the sun. These rocks are nearly seven feet across—big enough to fit two cassowaries comfortably.

The next spot is a hidden gem. To reach it, we have to climb a steep, uphill trail that leaves us all panting. As we break through the dense foliage, the men and women in the group split up.

Aaron: Alright, ladies, this area is for you. Me and RJ aren't allowed in. We can see you, and you can see us, but what happens in there is completely up to you. That's your gate right there.

Michelle: Wow.

Aaron: If you choose to go in, that’s entirely up to you. I can’t stop you. This whole place is a sacred female healing area.

Michelle: The women in the group walk through the gate and into the waterfall, hopping from stone to stone as they make their way to the water. It’s a tranquil, untouched spot—one of deep serenity. This place was once used for 'women’s business,' where women would give birth and find rest.

Tammy: I can feel the healing power. I’m watching this dragonfly dip its rear into the water.

Michelle: It’s just fluttering from one spot to the next.

Tammy: Taking a little dip.

Michelle: Yeah, living the good life.

Michelle: Later, I find out that the dragonfly was actually laying eggs, which feels quite symbolic for this place and for Tammy, who recently gave birth. She often jokes about her poor memory, but she recalls every detail of her labor. As we watch the dragonfly fluttering around, I reflect on how much Tammy's life has transformed. She’s always been a daring spirit, her work as a documentary photographer taking her on solo journeys from Eritrea to Mongolia. But since becoming a mother, it’s been inspiring to see how the same care and focus she applied to her career now extends to Coen. I’ve never seen her take such a break from being a mum as she is now. And for me, as someone who plans to have children soon, that shift feels both beautiful and a little intimidating.

As we continue our journey, my eyelids grow heavy. It’s been a full day, and I’m thankful Aaron’s behind the wheel. I overhear him and Tammy discussing the meaning of Coen’s name in the Kuku Yalanji language.

Tammy: Aaron, do you know what language Coen’s name comes from, the one that means ‘thunder’? Can you tell me which language that is?

Aaron: The language for thunder? That’s actually our language here.

Tammy: Oh, it is? I didn’t know that.

Aaron: Yes, that's our language.

Michelle: The topic changes, and we hear a story about a German woman who came to Port Douglas as a young backpacker and decided to make it her home. Now an elderly woman, she’s dedicated her life to purchasing farmland and working with the community to replant native trees and restore the rainforest. Aaron admires her and the impact she’s making. It’s a small but meaningful step in the effort to help Aboriginal people reclaim their land.

I can’t help but think about the sugar cane and cattle farms we passed today, the tourists who get lost at Mossman Gorge because they fail to read the land and end up being swept away by strong currents under the boulders, and the sacred women's healing site that is technically open to the public, but only through a private wellness center.

Tammy and I are a little quiet during dinner, still reflecting on our last conversation with Aaron. But the energy in Port Douglas is lively. The pubs are buzzing, filled with the sounds of live music and footy fans reacting to the game on TV. Restaurants are fully booked, with tables spilling out onto the sidewalks. For our last meal, we indulge in scallops, tuna sashimi, clam spaghetti, and insalata. We sip on Aperol spritzes while overhearing a customer loudly asking one of the waiters where he’s from.

"I grew up in Italy, but I’m originally from Sri Lanka," he replies.

That evening, I stand in the shower, my mind racing. How am I going to raise a child in this country? And how is Tammy managing it all?

The following day, Tammy and I explore the Port Douglas Sunday markets, hunting for souvenirs. The market stretches along the waterfront, filled with 150 different stalls. One of the stands catches my attention—a glass-blowing artist is making a cassowary. It’s the closest I’ll get to seeing a real one for now, so I’m definitely taking it home with me!

At the same time, Tammy picks up an adorable picture book by a local author for Coen. She packs it in her bag along with some ochre pieces—orange, white, and grey—that Aaron helped us collect on the beach. Ochre, a natural pigment, is used in Aboriginal art and body painting. Tammy doesn’t buy anything for herself. I think about how once you have kids, their needs always come first. I wonder if I’ll be able to do that when the time comes...

Tammy: It's definitely one of those things that no amount of research or talking about it can really prepare you for. But I think you'd be an amazing mum. You’d really enjoy a lot of the same things I do—like the connection and the laughter.

Michelle: I hope my kid’s got a good sense of humor, because Coen’s pretty hilarious.

Tammy: Nah, your kid's definitely going to be funny.

Michelle: Who knows what the future holds for me, but right now, I’m just thankful to have Coen in our lives. It's wonderful that Tammy’s helping him connect with the country we’ve made our home in. It gives me hope that the next generation will be more informed about Australia’s history. For now, though, I think Coen’s really going to enjoy the ochre—we know he’s a little artist at heart.

Tammy: How did you feel when you saw Mummy at the airport?

Coen: Coco go Cairns.

Tammy: Coco wants to go to Cairns?

Coen: Coco wants to dig in the sand.

Tammy: Oh, you want to dig in the sand? Are you happy that Mummy got you some shells and some ochre?

Coen: Ochre.

Tammy: Where did you put them?

Coen: Some ochre.

Tammy: What did you do with the ochre?

Coen: Coco's playing with the ochre.

Tammy: Oh, Toto is playing with the ochre.

Aislyn: That was Michelle Law. Michelle recently spent time with Coen and her family. They have another trip planned to the Gold Coast for a joint birthday celebration for Tammy and two of Michelle’s other siblings. Michelle is also busy with her work. Her play, Single Asian Female, is being performed for the fifth time, this time at the State Theatre Company in Adelaide, South Australia.

She also wrote an episode for the TV show Safe Home, which will air in 2023. You can learn more about Michelle on her website, michelle-law.com, and follow her on Twitter @ms_michellelaw.

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This is Travel Tales, a production by Dinogo Media and Boom Integrated. Our podcast is produced by Aislyn Greene, Adrien Glover, and Robin Lai, with post-production support from John Marshall Media, Jenn Grossman, and Clint Rhodes.

Music composed by Alan Carrescia. Special thanks to Irene Wang and Angela Johnston. I’m Aislyn Greene, your host, always on the go as much as possible. It’s such a joy to be back on the road again. As we journey around the world this year, remember: travel truly begins the moment we step outside our front door.

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