I've been told by authoritative sources that I don't need to leave Melbourne to find wildlife.

I'm staying in Carlton, about a fifteen minute walk from downtown, and apparently in the park in front of my hotel you can see possums at night. Flynig foxes prefer Lincoln Square, a few blocks away. And all sorts of exotic birds can be seen in the botanical gardens.

I found some exotic potato chips in the local 7-Eleven, with flavors like Lime & Black Pepper, Sweet Chilli and Sour Cream, Honey-Baked Ham, and Tzatziki.

The Australian dollar is about equal to the U.S. dollar, which makes things convenient but not very cheap. I paid $34 yesterday for the Lonely Planet guide to Melbourne -- one of their slender city guides -- and, at that price, will read every page.

Carrying the precious guide back to my hotel I passed a woman in a hijab who was pushing a stroller with both her hands and talking on her cell phone at the same time, the phone conveniently held on her cheek by her tight head scarf.

At the entrance to the Royal Dental Hospital of Melbourne I found the Toothpick Cafe, which had a nice selection of hot and cold foods, plus two types of gluten-free cookies.

This morning I woke up at 5 a.m. and the possums suddenly made sense, as Melbourne, I remembered, is Dame Edna's hometown.

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I just got back from Giorgio's on 17th Street, which I'm rediscovering after a long absence that followed years of being a Friday regular.

The reasons for that absence had nothing to do with the place. And imagine my delight on finding it pretty much exactly as I left it - with the same great service (Serge has been voted Best Waiter in Broward County more than once) and delicious food (today's tomato basil bisque should be voted the best in Broward County).

Giorgio's is small and bustling and has that friendly, neighborhood feel that is not that easy to come by here. I sat there, waiting for my food and watching the staff rushing about but also taking time to talk and laugh - with customers and each other. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.

The only negative note were the two men at the table next to me who at one point both talked on their cell phones. But they did it in a way that I had never seen before: one in English and one in Spanish.

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We haven't been going to expensive restaurants lately, but Saturday was a special occasion so we drove down to Michael's Genuine Food & Drink in the Miami Design District.

I dropped Hania off in front of the courtyard and went to park. Entering the restaurant a few minutes later, I found her sitting by the window with two other people. She's friendly, but doesn't usually work that fast. Then I noticed there was a space of a couple inches separating our table from our neighbors'.

The waitress arrived and Hania gave her spiel: that she is a celiac and cannot eat any food that has wheat, barley or rye in it. The waitress looked slightly pained by this news, not for Hania but for herself. Another diner with weird dietary requests.

This happens a lot. But celiac disease is as genuine as Michael's food. People who have it must avoid gluten, as it destroys the lining of the small intestine. It is becoming better known, and yet the people who have it are often, at restaurants, made to feel like nuisances.

Part of the problem at Michael's was the fact that the waitress couldn't get close to Hania to discuss her diet - because of the neighboring table - and so had to hear about it from over my shoulder (and filter it through the music and noise). Hania would ask her about a specific item on the menu and she would give her (not all that authoritative) assessment. A good waitress would go and ask the chef what foods were gluten-free, come back, and give the customer a choice - plus a feeling of assurance.

In the end, our meal was fine. I had ceviche and chargrilled octopus and Hania had oysters and duck confit. But we didn't leave a big tip.

Postscript: Driving down Biscayne Blvd. after dinner, we saw, close to downtown, a sign in a storefront: "Coming soon: Bengal - Modern Indian cuisine." Indian food, like Thai and Vietnamese, is usually fine for celiacs (as long as they stay away from the bread).

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The great comic novelist Peter de Vries once wrote: "The food in museums is usually on a par with the murals in restaurants."

But things have changed in the last few decades. Even in Fort Lauderdale. Or perhaps especially in Fort Lauderdale.

The folks at the Museum of Art seem to have a vision of downtown and what it could be. If you've driven by on your way to work, you know that they are now serving free coffee in the morning. If you're a South Florida oenophile, you may know that they've been holding wine tastings.

And now they're serving lunch in the cafe-cum-wine bar in the lobby. They seem intent on becoming not just a great cultural institution but a gathering place in a city which is in desperate need of one.

The menu includes two soups - yesterday's were mushroom and brie and roasted red pepper and tomato. There were also a few wraps and paninis - I had the smoked turkey and swiss cheese - plus a spinach salad and an asparagus and leek frittata. Everything was under $10. Marlene Dietrich sang softly in the background (from the CD of one of the young men behind the counter).

I just wish Peter de Vries were still alive so I could invite him to lunch.

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And the winner was: Rosa Mexicano. (I keep meaning to ask why it's not "Mexicana." Anybody know?)

Jim and Joyce had been to Grillfish the night before, and I thought a little trip off the Beach would do them good. We arrived at 7:30 and were told there would be a 30 minute wait, so we walked over to Perricone's and had a drink at the outside bar. (It's like sitting on the shaded Southern porch of an Italian restaurant in a Latin city.)

Once seated at Rosa, we ordered margaritas and guacamole. After it arrived, they said, as people tend to do there, "This is the best guacamole I've ever had."

Since they make it at your table, there's no secret to it. You can watch carefully and then repeat the process in your own kitchen. But then you miss out on the wall studded with tiny white statues of men in mid-swan dive.

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Blogs are great, we know, but they tend to lack an element of suspense. Let me see what I can do.

Tonight I'm going out to dinner with my brother and his fiancee, who are vacationing in Miami Beach. Nothing too expensive (he's a lawyer, but I'm not).

I'm going to suggest: A La Folie (simple crepes and cider) or Grillfish if they want to stay on the beach. Otherwise, Sheba (Ethopian, in the Design District), Rosa Mexicano (Brickell Village), Miss Saigon (Coral Gables), Garcia's (Miami River) or Versailles (Calle Ocho).

Check in tomorrow to see which one they chose. And, in the meantime, vote for your favorite. (Or add some places I missed.)

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I love lunch - eating out in the middle of the day. Along with the weekly paycheck, it's one of the things that makes working worthwhile. And, as the travel editor, I feel it's my duty to get out of the office.

Trouble is, if your office is in downtown Ft. Lauderdale, as mine is, eating lunch out can get pretty expensive. Las Olas is full of high end restaurants inhospitable to low salary people.

So I often walk over to SE 1st Avenue, near the library, and eat at Cafe Verdi. It's basically an Italian place run by Peruvians (welcome to South Florida). The dishes - salads, pastas, chicken with rice and beans - are always fresh and, mostly, under $10. Daily specials sometimes include ceviche, and an incredible hamburger served on ciabatta bread with mozzarella and mixed greens. The young waiter Javier is one of the best-read people in Ft. Lauderdale. The restaurant is bright and full of regulars, who give it a friendly neighborhood vibe. And old jazz standards play softly in the background.

Sometimes it's hard to come back to work.

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After my day at Seatrade I walked to Espanola Way and had dinner at A La Folie. The tiny cafe sits one block west of the crowds - in the space of a few yards you move from tourists to locals but, strangely, from Florida to France.

Crepes are the specialty, and the savoury ones are made from buckwheat (just like in Brittany). And Breton cider (alcoholic) is also on the menu.

There's nothing like sitting outside on a balmy evening and watching a kid zoom by on a skateboard while you wash down your egg, ham and cheese crepe with a glass of ice-cold cider.

And because the waiters are French, they'll let you sit for as long as you like.

Note to celiacs: They do add a little white flour to the buckwheat, so the crepes are not gluten free.

Photo: Vimoutiers.net

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