My last week in Australia started off a lot like my first, feeling like shit and in dire need of Advil. Kiel and I awoke on the lovely morning of Sunday, November 14th and decided that since we had a few hours to kill before our overnight bus ride down the coast to Sydney, some exercise might be in order. And with that energetic thought in our minds, we joined the English girl Kate from our dorm room on a three hour round trip trek to the Byron Bay lighthouse. It also happens to be home to the most easterly point on the Australian mainland (translation: it’s one of the first places in the world to start off each and every lovely day!). Of greater concern though was making sure Kiel did not die during the excursion, which contained an abundance of hills and the thermometer clipping off at a fairly high temperature. After much suffering and longing, the three of us made it back in one piece, with Kate obviously in considerably better shape than the Moreau boys. Once we decided that we had had enough exercise for the day, we chilled out at the hostel until about dinner time, before making our way to the bus stop. From there, it was a long, boring, overnight twelve hour bus ride down the coast to Sydney and what would be our final destination before making our way back to Canada. The ride itself was pretty uneventful compared to some of the ones I’ve had, with the main highlight being Kiel snoring at a decibel level that would make his father proud!
Monday morning we pulled into the Sydney bus station around 6:30am and trekked over to our hostel (Wake Up! [8/10]), although it I think it would have been more appropriate to call it a hotel, as it was the biggest f-in hostel I had ever seen! We were told that since they were at a high capacity, we could not check-in and this led to us watching TV in the common area until 11:00am. When we were finally allowed to get into our room, we quickly showered and got dressed and attempted to make the free guided walking tour that our hostel was offering that morning. It seemed we spent a bit too much time beautifying ourselves and ended up being a few minutes late. The two of us tried to find the tour group out in the streets, but almost immediately it started to torrentially downpour. Kiel and I were having none of the rain, and for once (out of about a million times) our tardiness paid off! Instead of getting educated on Sydney in the pouring rain, we spent the afternoon milling about the hostel before going to the hostel’s bar for dinner and eventually returning there later at night to get our drink on. Apparently the staff weren’t too fond of us “getting our drink on”, as we both received our walking papers. Kiel got tossed for starting his own no-shirt party, and I’m pretty sure they kicked me out just for being an ugly motherfucker. Bastards!
The next day started like way too many of ours, in a haze, surrounded by a bunch of dudes in a dorm room, wondering what my forehead did to deserve this feeling. But, seeing as how crying gets you nowhere, I sprung to life and decided it was time to show Kiel the sights and sounds of beautiful Sydney. The two of us spent the better part of the day exploring the city on foot and taking in such attractions as the Sydney Harbour Bridge, the Opera House, The Rocks, King’s Cross and Kiel’s personal favourite, the Botanical Gardens. I won’t bother explaining most of these things because if memory serves me correctly I did that about 856 blog entries ago when I first arrived Down Under. It was a solid day of walking, and it was clear that the only way to reward ourselves was to get sloshed on goon at the hostel before heading out on the town. Taking the recommendation of one chap in our room, we ended up at a spot called The Gaff and wouldn’t you know it, it was wet t-shirt competition night with all the slutty backpacker chicks! Now I know I should be focused on other things, but all I could do (aside from laugh hysterically) was think that these girls were some poor guys’ daughters. Then again, I’m sure people have seen me over the years and thought to themselves, “man I feel sorry for that guy’s parents”! Sometime during the evening, I decided to leave Kiel and hit up the McDonald’s where I somehow ended up in a pretty heated debate with a group of Finnish guys about who the best hockey players were to ever come out of their country. I’m pretty sure I won with Jaarko Ruutu, but one can never be too certain. This somehow led me and the Finnish chaps to head back to the club, before I eventually left after deciding it sucked and I couldn’t find Kiel. Follow this up with a long ass walk home on my own as I was out of cash, and you have the makings of a pretty average Tuesday night in Oz.
Wednesday morning arrived right on time, and with it, my last full day in Australia. Kiel and I again spent the day just strolling about the city and taking it easy. We made the decision the day before that we weren’t going to do anything too crazy on our last night, as we were staring down the barrel of a 24-hour commute to get home the next day. That evening, we headed up to King’s Cross (action central in Sydney for clubs, hookers, and all that jazz) and found a pub that had been advertising a weekly poker tournament with a $20 buy-in and $10 re-buys. Kiel and I signed up, grabbed some frothy ale and sat down with about 25 other people who found this to be a good form of entertainment on a Wednesday night. Long story short, the two of us made it down to the final four with the top three paying out. I believe the payouts were something to the effect of $90, $180, and $350. Sadly Kiel ended up finishing in fourth place, while I made it to the final two with a big chip lead over some French guy. Naturally, I buckled in the end and had to settle for second place, although after covering both of our buy-ins, re-buys, and beers for the night (so far) we were still up a bit of money. With my small profit in hand, Kiel and I headed to one of the many shady strip clubs that helps to give King’s Cross its reputation as the premier red light district in Australia. The place we ended up going to was definitely up there with the shadiest joints I’ve ever seen. We were hustled in by some dude who was coked out of his mind and charged us $20 each to get in before we were scammed $10 each for a beer. Then the dog-ugly waitress refused to give me my change and kept it for herself. It was around this time that we decided we would drink our one beer, sacrifice our cover charge and get the fuck up out of that joint! Oh, and did I mention the strippers were dog-ugly? Just class I tell ya! We closed out the night by spending what little of my profits were left at an Irish pub, before returning to spend what I imagined would be my last night in a hostel for some time to come.
Thursday morning we were up bright and early to catch our shuttle to the airport. The flight home was pretty uneventful. We flew from Sydney direct to Vancouver before flying on to Toronto. Seeing as how Sydney was sixteen hours ahead on the world clock, we arrived on Thursday night in Toronto despite the long flight. After one of the longest days of my life, it was certainly a welcome relief to see my Mom waiting for us at the airport! As much as I love travelling, I love coming home just as much and seeing my family and friends, cause at the end of the day, that’s what matters most in life!
Having said that, and before I get too emotional here (single tear anyone?), I just want to thank everyone who read any of my blogs. For those that read one paragraph, right on up to people who read multiple entries, thanks a bunch. Honestly, hearing people tell me they read my notes makes me happier than a pig in shit! Lastly, cheers to everyone who was a part of the stories that have taken place over the last 58,485 words. From my Melbourne crew at Medici to the warriors working out in Dingo and everyone I met in between, I must say it’s been real. Last but not least, thanks a lot to Leeanna and Kiel for putting up with me during their stays on the other side of the world and my roommates/parents for letting me back into their home!
Until next time, stay classy and remember the world’s a big place...why not explore it?
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Saturday, November 13, 2010- These Don’t Taste Like Regular Cookies To Me.
Thursday morning I woke up early for no good reason and pretty much just rolled around in my bed for hours thinking about Bob Saget’s greatest television moments. Unfortunately, I could only recall about two or three and they all occurred on “Entourage”, so it ended up being a slow morning in the thoughts department. Since Kiel was again showing no signs of life, it was up to me to make things happen. I hit up the tour desk and booked us on a couple of excursions. The next morning we would be going on an all-day bus tour to a town called Nimbin, which is basically like the Amsterdam of Australia but on a much, much, much smaller scale. I also booked us into a surfing lesson for a couple of days later, as I had been now been in Australia for a year and had yet to touch a surfboard! Very un-Australian, I know. When Kiel finally rose from his stupor, we made our way down to the beach to take in the beautiful 25 degree weather and beaming sunshine. We set-up shop with our IPod and speakers like a couple of Portuguese soldiers and just took the day in. Regrettably for Kiel, he didn’t listen to me when I tried to warn him about the strength of the Aussie sun and how different it was from Canada. I offered to lather him up (sickening image, I know) with sunscreen to which he refused and in turn paid for it the rest of his vacation with the nastiest burns this side of “Backdraft”. I’m not exaggerating when I say his back was fire-engine red! After working on our skin cancer, we ended up spending the rest of the day and night chilling in the hostel, doing such productive things as playing Pac-Man and ping-pong. And then it happened...After five nights of straight partying, Kiel finally crashed and went to bed at 8:00pm without a single drop of beer or wine. I must say, it was an impressive run, but for someone who was claiming he was going to party for twelve nights straight, well let’s just say shit was weak! After Kiel and all the three year-olds around the world went to bed, I ended up hanging out and having a few bevos with some Dutch dude who claimed that his friends called him “Sanchez”, despite the fact that he was whiter than Casper. In addition to his peculiar nickname, he also happened to be a former semi-professional “Call of Duty” of player. Take in to account the fact that he was major pot head on his way to work in the weed capital of Australia, and you have yourself one interesting night of conversations.
The next morning, Kiel had to wake up bright and early (and he actually did), as it was time for us to do the epic tour to the town of Nimbin. What is a Nimbin you ask? Basically, it’s a town located a couple of hours inland from Byron Bay, where people are allowed to sell marijuana pretty openly and the coppers turn a blind eye to it. It’s the only such place like this in Australia, and a once dying dairy town now has a thriving, yet still technically illegal industry, based around shady drug dealers and hemp shops. We had arranged to go on “Jim’s Tour”, which features an amazingly knowledgeable hippy dude and bunch of people in their twenties and early thirties out for a day to get baked and ride around on a school bus listening to the likes of Afroman and Led Zeppelin. The first stop of the morning for our bus of thirty or so people was a liquor store for everyone to load up on beers for the long day ahead. Always a good call before 10:00am! Following a pretty lengthy drive and some crazy tunes, we rocked up to the town of Nimbin which was for lack of better words a one-street town. Everyone piled out of the bus and went their separate ways for an hour or so. Almost immediately upon descending into the town, Kiel and I were harassed by dudes trying to sell us their product. We elected to check out some of the hemp/bong shops first before deciding to pick-up off some guy outside a pub who looked like he hadn’t showered in a few days. On the main drag we also encountered an old Aboriginal woman selling “special cookies” at a rate of three for $20, which was another purchase we just couldn’t refuse. After downing our cookies and seeing all the non-existent sights in the shithole that is Nimbin, we made our way back to the bus and were headed on our way to some nature spot to chill out for a bit. At least that was the plan, until about half-way there the bus driver had to pull over because some dude in the back of the bus started tripping out like mad! He was pouring water all over himself and saying, “I’m that guy aren’t I”!? Golden moment number one! After calming him down, the bus got back on the road, but was forced to pull over a few minutes later when said dude had to get out of the bus and started puking on the side of the road in plain sight of everyone. Golden moment number two. Naturally, I took this as an opportunity to take some funny pictures of him. After vomiting like mad, Captain Trip-Out then decided to lie on the road in front of the bus. Golden moment number three! Eventually some of the other passengers managed to scrape him up off the middle of the highway and he ended up spending the next five hours KO’ed on the floor of the bus. With the drama all sorted out, it was time to relax and kick back, so our driver Jim took us to a small lake/nature park (with a great history lesson on the way) where he treated us to a delicious lunch. Then again, I’m pretty sure anything would’ve been tasty at that point. Our last stop on the day-long dube-cruise was at a big waterfall with a swimming hole, where Jim encouraged everyone to jump in and go for a swim. Kiel, decided to go for a dip, while I opted to stay high and dry. Boo yaa! It was around this time that I thought to myself that letting a bunch of people who’ve been using cannabis all day jump off big rocks into a deep, murky pool of water is probably not the safest thing to do. But, on the other hand Jim’s been doing the tour for a long time so what the fuck do I know?! After returning back to Byron Bay around dinner time, we hit up the Subway for some eats and then got back on the nightly alcho-express. This was naturally followed by a visit to Cheeky Monkeys, where Kiel proceeded to dance his pants off, act like an idiot, and somehow still get the attention of people of the opposite sex.
As expected, the next day we slept in until close to lunch time, which thankfully for us, all other six people in our room appeared to have the same agenda. Once we got our act together and had a little chow, it was time for our surf lesson in the afternoon. Kiel and I were joined by a chick, Katelin, who was staying in our room and felt the need to make us look like the amateurs of all amateurs. Once the instructors rounded everyone up from their accommodations in the surf bus, they took us all out to a beach called Lennox Head, which was a bit outside of Byron Bay. The reason for this was that not only was the beach a bit quieter, but apparently had better waves for rookie-biotch surfers (see: Brent). After getting our group of fifteen or so all stretched out and semi-comfortable with our boards on dry land, it was time to ride the waves like a champion. At least that was the plan. Mostly what followed was a series of wipe-outs and me drinking loads of salt water. A few times I was able to catch a wave, although most of the waves were about the same size as the ones you can generate in your bathtub with a solid fart. It was a pretty shameful affair, and Kiel even had to retire early due to “nipple rash”. Most of the peeps in the group were only able to get a decent ride when the instructor’s helped with a push-off at the beginning, although that usually didn’t work either. For the most part it was just a bunch of stunned tourists, acting like, well stunned tourists. After deciding the life of pro surfing wasn’t for us, Kiel and I headed back to the hostel to get our dinner and drink on (something we could turn pro in). This was again inevitably followed by our third visit to Cheeky Monkeys in four nights and the official death of my liver and wallet.
The next morning, Kiel had to wake up bright and early (and he actually did), as it was time for us to do the epic tour to the town of Nimbin. What is a Nimbin you ask? Basically, it’s a town located a couple of hours inland from Byron Bay, where people are allowed to sell marijuana pretty openly and the coppers turn a blind eye to it. It’s the only such place like this in Australia, and a once dying dairy town now has a thriving, yet still technically illegal industry, based around shady drug dealers and hemp shops. We had arranged to go on “Jim’s Tour”, which features an amazingly knowledgeable hippy dude and bunch of people in their twenties and early thirties out for a day to get baked and ride around on a school bus listening to the likes of Afroman and Led Zeppelin. The first stop of the morning for our bus of thirty or so people was a liquor store for everyone to load up on beers for the long day ahead. Always a good call before 10:00am! Following a pretty lengthy drive and some crazy tunes, we rocked up to the town of Nimbin which was for lack of better words a one-street town. Everyone piled out of the bus and went their separate ways for an hour or so. Almost immediately upon descending into the town, Kiel and I were harassed by dudes trying to sell us their product. We elected to check out some of the hemp/bong shops first before deciding to pick-up off some guy outside a pub who looked like he hadn’t showered in a few days. On the main drag we also encountered an old Aboriginal woman selling “special cookies” at a rate of three for $20, which was another purchase we just couldn’t refuse. After downing our cookies and seeing all the non-existent sights in the shithole that is Nimbin, we made our way back to the bus and were headed on our way to some nature spot to chill out for a bit. At least that was the plan, until about half-way there the bus driver had to pull over because some dude in the back of the bus started tripping out like mad! He was pouring water all over himself and saying, “I’m that guy aren’t I”!? Golden moment number one! After calming him down, the bus got back on the road, but was forced to pull over a few minutes later when said dude had to get out of the bus and started puking on the side of the road in plain sight of everyone. Golden moment number two. Naturally, I took this as an opportunity to take some funny pictures of him. After vomiting like mad, Captain Trip-Out then decided to lie on the road in front of the bus. Golden moment number three! Eventually some of the other passengers managed to scrape him up off the middle of the highway and he ended up spending the next five hours KO’ed on the floor of the bus. With the drama all sorted out, it was time to relax and kick back, so our driver Jim took us to a small lake/nature park (with a great history lesson on the way) where he treated us to a delicious lunch. Then again, I’m pretty sure anything would’ve been tasty at that point. Our last stop on the day-long dube-cruise was at a big waterfall with a swimming hole, where Jim encouraged everyone to jump in and go for a swim. Kiel, decided to go for a dip, while I opted to stay high and dry. Boo yaa! It was around this time that I thought to myself that letting a bunch of people who’ve been using cannabis all day jump off big rocks into a deep, murky pool of water is probably not the safest thing to do. But, on the other hand Jim’s been doing the tour for a long time so what the fuck do I know?! After returning back to Byron Bay around dinner time, we hit up the Subway for some eats and then got back on the nightly alcho-express. This was naturally followed by a visit to Cheeky Monkeys, where Kiel proceeded to dance his pants off, act like an idiot, and somehow still get the attention of people of the opposite sex.
As expected, the next day we slept in until close to lunch time, which thankfully for us, all other six people in our room appeared to have the same agenda. Once we got our act together and had a little chow, it was time for our surf lesson in the afternoon. Kiel and I were joined by a chick, Katelin, who was staying in our room and felt the need to make us look like the amateurs of all amateurs. Once the instructors rounded everyone up from their accommodations in the surf bus, they took us all out to a beach called Lennox Head, which was a bit outside of Byron Bay. The reason for this was that not only was the beach a bit quieter, but apparently had better waves for rookie-biotch surfers (see: Brent). After getting our group of fifteen or so all stretched out and semi-comfortable with our boards on dry land, it was time to ride the waves like a champion. At least that was the plan. Mostly what followed was a series of wipe-outs and me drinking loads of salt water. A few times I was able to catch a wave, although most of the waves were about the same size as the ones you can generate in your bathtub with a solid fart. It was a pretty shameful affair, and Kiel even had to retire early due to “nipple rash”. Most of the peeps in the group were only able to get a decent ride when the instructor’s helped with a push-off at the beginning, although that usually didn’t work either. For the most part it was just a bunch of stunned tourists, acting like, well stunned tourists. After deciding the life of pro surfing wasn’t for us, Kiel and I headed back to the hostel to get our dinner and drink on (something we could turn pro in). This was again inevitably followed by our third visit to Cheeky Monkeys in four nights and the official death of my liver and wallet.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010- I May Be Able To Drink, But I Sure As Shit Can’t Abseil!
Following the debacle that was Kiel’s first night in Australia, we were both clearly feeling the effects as neither one of us was able to get out of bed before 1:00pm. Myself in particular was in rough shape, as I could not stop shaking, always a good sign that your body is up to the task. When we finally did manage to get out of bed after lunch time, Kiel and I decided to do what I had done the day before, walk aimlessly around the city and just “check it out”. Having been in Australia for so long, a lot of it was kind of lost on me, but Kiel on the other hand took every opportunity to point out how beautiful of a city Brisbane is and how gorgeous all the ladies were. I’m still not sure what he liked more, the city or the women, but I have a pretty good idea. After taking in most of the sights, including the downtown, the Story Bridge and Southbank, we headed back to the hostel where Kiel attempted to cook us a dinner of chicken and rice. Somewhere along the way, something went terribly wrong and the next thing I knew, Kiel had filled up the entire kitchen and common area with smoke and there were fifty people all hacking their lungs out. I tried to hide and pretend I didn’t know him, but it seemed that everyone in the place wanted to kill the two of us, that is if the smoke inhalation didn’t get to them first. Later in the evening, Kiel decided that he wanted to go out and party. This was all fine and dandy, except for the fact that my body was on the cusp of a total breakdown and my liver may have exploded if I consumed any booze. With this in mind, I left Kiel at the entrance to a club called “Family” that had gay night every Sunday night. He didn’t seem to mind, and just waltzed in on his own, in what has to be one of the weirder club drop-offs I have ever experienced. With Kiel dancing and wheeling away in the gay bar, I decided to head back to the hostel and watch “An Inconvenient Truth” on my laptop, all the while breathing in the filthy stench of the German brigade that was parked in my dorm.
Monday morning I woke at a fairly decent hour, which is more than Kiel could say. With Kiel nursing a hangover (this became a common theme during his time Down Under), I set out to try and go on the guided walking tour which I had attempted to do a few days before. Unfortunately, the douche bag who runs the tours decided to not show up again. Really good business practice I must say, although on the positive side it did allow me to call up the XXXX Brewery and arrange to do a tour there. For those not in the know, XXXX is one of Australia’s best known and tastiest beers, and is far and away the most popular beer in the great state of Queensland. As my tour was booked in relatively short time, I had to hustle my way across the city and learned that I would be the only person on the brewery tour. Since it was only Monday morning, I guess this was slightly acceptable, although I did feel a bit weird being escorted around this huge factory on my own. The tour itself was actually quite informative and well put together, and if anything I must say there was too much information! During the tour, I was informed that the brewery was closing early that day for a private function and that upon completion of the tour I would only have half an hour to “hang around”. Oh, and did I mention that in that half an hour I HAD TO drink the four complimentary pints that were bestowed upon me as a paying customer. Well let me tell you, after downing four pints in a half an hour I had one of the better Monday morning buzzes of recent memory! Seeing as how I was slightly tipsy, I felt it would be in my best interest to walk the two kilometres back to the hostel to give myself a chance to sober up a bit. Naturally I also had to down a ten pack of McDonald’s nuggets, cause let’s be real, McDonald’s is the shit when you’re shittered! When I returned to the hostel, I was relieved to see that Kiel was still alive after his gay bar soiree the night before and was ready to dial it up for another night. The evening started with a little pre-drink consisting of Kiel’s new favourite drink, goon. I have never seen anyone who drinks wine (and cheap wine at that) at such a crippling pace. I tried to warn him, but as usual my words fell on deaf ears. A few drinks later (or a lot if you’re Kiel), we made our way down to Birdee Num Num’s where Kiel almost immediately started arguing with some random guy about the negatives of universal health care. From what I can tell, it started off as a friendly argument, but quickly escalated to the point where I thought Kiel might be in for some fisticuffs. Thankfully, the moron’s friends who Kiel was chirping with got him to calm down and we were able to go about our business of trying to win some money playing Bingo. In the first game of Bingo, Kiel somehow managed to beat everyone in the bar and scored a cool $50 that was promptly put into the “five extra jugs of beer” fund. What made this feat even more impressive was the fact that I’m pretty sure Kiel was borderline blind drunk when he won! By the time the next game of bingo came around, all of our score cards were soaked in beer, which made playing impossible, but made drinking and having a good time a very acceptable thing to do instead. As you can imagine, the night ended with us being blind drunk and making our mother proud! I can now officially say I got hammed twice in one day, which is a feat I don’t think I have accomplished since my days of heavy cottage going a few years ago.
The next morning it was business as usual for the Moreau brothers; sleeping in and feeling like shit until after lunch sometime. That afternoon I had booked us to go abseiling in the city at a place known as Kangaroo Cliffs (scary name, I know!). Quick heads up on what exactly abseiling is; it’s basically just rappelling down a rock wall or cliff. I like to simply describe it as the opposite of rock climbing. After making our way over to the cliffs with our instructor and going over the safety procedures, I decided that Kiel should go first as I was too much of a pussy to go. Kiel was shaking like crazy the first time he went over the ledge, but I have to give him credit he did it and made it to the bottom in one piece. I, on the other hand, well that’s a different story. On my first attempt, I slowly backed up to the edge of the cliff and had my feet dangling over the edge ready to go. It was around this time that I didn’t listen properly to the instructions and lost my balance and footing and swung off the cliff in my harness and smashed up against the rock walls. While I was hanging there scared out of my mind, I looked up to see the look on our instructor’s face that said something along the lines of, “holy shit, what just happened”. All I could think about was the excruciating pain in my arm and my elbow that was bleeding everywhere. Eventually I managed to get back on track and rappel down the rock face. My ego and elbow may have been a bit bruised but I did manage to get down the wall three more times afterwards (Kiel did four more) before we decided that we could no longer walk up the gruelling stairs to get to the top of the cliffs. Thankfully, the rest of our abseiling went off without any injuries and I must say it was an awesome experience, despite my near death experience. After dressing my wounds and getting my game face back on, Kiel and I headed to Birdee Num Num’s for some pub trivia that night. Our team ended up finishing in third place out of about fifteen teams, although I must confess we did cheat a bit by sending Kiel up to the dorm room to look up answers o his laptop. Unfortunately, it was winner take all and we did not do enough cheating, so the only thing left to do was to drown ourselves in our sorrow. And by sorrow I of course mean beer! Kiel ended up leaving the bar later that night as he said he felt like dancing and apparently somehow ended up at ANOTHER club that was hosting their gay night. I was starting to sense a recurring theme, although it may have just been his luck. After Kiel left, I felt it would be a good opportunity to call my parents in my inebriated state and give them an update on how their two favourite sons were doing. Thankfully, they didn’t pick up the phone and instead I left them a solid rant of a voicemail before tucking myself into bed.
Seeing as how I managed to make it to bed long before Kiel the night before, I inevitably had to shake him to life the next morning as we were scheduled to make our way by bus to Byron Bay, which was a three hour bus ride down the coast. While roaming about the hostel that morning, I noticed a sign on one of the doors that said, “Google Bilderberg Group”. Immediately I knew this must’ve been Kiel’s handy work and asked him about it. He informed me in a fit of laughter that he had returned to the hostel the night before at about 5:00am and proceeded to put that sign up, along with another one that said “9/11 Was An Inside Job”. My guess is the second sign was quickly taken down. Regardless, Kiel was quite proud of himself and his efforts to get his message of anarchy out there. The sign master and I made it to Byron Bay by the early afternoon, but not before Kiel was having a sick attack in the bus toilet. We somehow made it to our hostel (Nomad’s Byron Bay [8.5/10]) in one piece and again were sleeping in an eight-person dorm. With Kiel resting up at the dorm, I decided to check out the town and do some grocery shopping. Byron Bay is one of the most well-known places on the tourist trail in Australia. It seems to walk a very fine line, as it is big enough that it has all the amenities you need, but small enough that it still feels a bit like a hippy community, which it is famed for being. It also happens to have excellent beaches and a moderate year round climate which makes it a haven for backpackers. It’s one of those towns that also happens to party seven nights a week thanks to the large number of travellers! For dinner, Kiel ended up cooking us some delicious burgers on the barbecue, which we happily washed down with some beers followed by the good ole goon. This in turn was followed by a visit to the semi-famous backpackers bar, Cheeky Monkeys. We ended up rocking out there for a bit before I got booted for texting, yes texting, on my phone while I was waiting for Kiel take a leak. I pleaded with the bouncer outside to let me back in to try and find my brother, explaining that Kiel did not have a phone and I wasn’t sure if he knew how to get back to the hostel. Eventually my begging worked and the bouncer let me in, but only after he held my passport hostage sp that I would swiftly return. I never did find Kiel, so I instead decided to make myself feel better by eating a steak wrap. Let me tell you, it was a classy wrap and definitely made my night that much better. Delicious with a capital “D”.
Monday morning I woke at a fairly decent hour, which is more than Kiel could say. With Kiel nursing a hangover (this became a common theme during his time Down Under), I set out to try and go on the guided walking tour which I had attempted to do a few days before. Unfortunately, the douche bag who runs the tours decided to not show up again. Really good business practice I must say, although on the positive side it did allow me to call up the XXXX Brewery and arrange to do a tour there. For those not in the know, XXXX is one of Australia’s best known and tastiest beers, and is far and away the most popular beer in the great state of Queensland. As my tour was booked in relatively short time, I had to hustle my way across the city and learned that I would be the only person on the brewery tour. Since it was only Monday morning, I guess this was slightly acceptable, although I did feel a bit weird being escorted around this huge factory on my own. The tour itself was actually quite informative and well put together, and if anything I must say there was too much information! During the tour, I was informed that the brewery was closing early that day for a private function and that upon completion of the tour I would only have half an hour to “hang around”. Oh, and did I mention that in that half an hour I HAD TO drink the four complimentary pints that were bestowed upon me as a paying customer. Well let me tell you, after downing four pints in a half an hour I had one of the better Monday morning buzzes of recent memory! Seeing as how I was slightly tipsy, I felt it would be in my best interest to walk the two kilometres back to the hostel to give myself a chance to sober up a bit. Naturally I also had to down a ten pack of McDonald’s nuggets, cause let’s be real, McDonald’s is the shit when you’re shittered! When I returned to the hostel, I was relieved to see that Kiel was still alive after his gay bar soiree the night before and was ready to dial it up for another night. The evening started with a little pre-drink consisting of Kiel’s new favourite drink, goon. I have never seen anyone who drinks wine (and cheap wine at that) at such a crippling pace. I tried to warn him, but as usual my words fell on deaf ears. A few drinks later (or a lot if you’re Kiel), we made our way down to Birdee Num Num’s where Kiel almost immediately started arguing with some random guy about the negatives of universal health care. From what I can tell, it started off as a friendly argument, but quickly escalated to the point where I thought Kiel might be in for some fisticuffs. Thankfully, the moron’s friends who Kiel was chirping with got him to calm down and we were able to go about our business of trying to win some money playing Bingo. In the first game of Bingo, Kiel somehow managed to beat everyone in the bar and scored a cool $50 that was promptly put into the “five extra jugs of beer” fund. What made this feat even more impressive was the fact that I’m pretty sure Kiel was borderline blind drunk when he won! By the time the next game of bingo came around, all of our score cards were soaked in beer, which made playing impossible, but made drinking and having a good time a very acceptable thing to do instead. As you can imagine, the night ended with us being blind drunk and making our mother proud! I can now officially say I got hammed twice in one day, which is a feat I don’t think I have accomplished since my days of heavy cottage going a few years ago.
The next morning it was business as usual for the Moreau brothers; sleeping in and feeling like shit until after lunch sometime. That afternoon I had booked us to go abseiling in the city at a place known as Kangaroo Cliffs (scary name, I know!). Quick heads up on what exactly abseiling is; it’s basically just rappelling down a rock wall or cliff. I like to simply describe it as the opposite of rock climbing. After making our way over to the cliffs with our instructor and going over the safety procedures, I decided that Kiel should go first as I was too much of a pussy to go. Kiel was shaking like crazy the first time he went over the ledge, but I have to give him credit he did it and made it to the bottom in one piece. I, on the other hand, well that’s a different story. On my first attempt, I slowly backed up to the edge of the cliff and had my feet dangling over the edge ready to go. It was around this time that I didn’t listen properly to the instructions and lost my balance and footing and swung off the cliff in my harness and smashed up against the rock walls. While I was hanging there scared out of my mind, I looked up to see the look on our instructor’s face that said something along the lines of, “holy shit, what just happened”. All I could think about was the excruciating pain in my arm and my elbow that was bleeding everywhere. Eventually I managed to get back on track and rappel down the rock face. My ego and elbow may have been a bit bruised but I did manage to get down the wall three more times afterwards (Kiel did four more) before we decided that we could no longer walk up the gruelling stairs to get to the top of the cliffs. Thankfully, the rest of our abseiling went off without any injuries and I must say it was an awesome experience, despite my near death experience. After dressing my wounds and getting my game face back on, Kiel and I headed to Birdee Num Num’s for some pub trivia that night. Our team ended up finishing in third place out of about fifteen teams, although I must confess we did cheat a bit by sending Kiel up to the dorm room to look up answers o his laptop. Unfortunately, it was winner take all and we did not do enough cheating, so the only thing left to do was to drown ourselves in our sorrow. And by sorrow I of course mean beer! Kiel ended up leaving the bar later that night as he said he felt like dancing and apparently somehow ended up at ANOTHER club that was hosting their gay night. I was starting to sense a recurring theme, although it may have just been his luck. After Kiel left, I felt it would be a good opportunity to call my parents in my inebriated state and give them an update on how their two favourite sons were doing. Thankfully, they didn’t pick up the phone and instead I left them a solid rant of a voicemail before tucking myself into bed.
Seeing as how I managed to make it to bed long before Kiel the night before, I inevitably had to shake him to life the next morning as we were scheduled to make our way by bus to Byron Bay, which was a three hour bus ride down the coast. While roaming about the hostel that morning, I noticed a sign on one of the doors that said, “Google Bilderberg Group”. Immediately I knew this must’ve been Kiel’s handy work and asked him about it. He informed me in a fit of laughter that he had returned to the hostel the night before at about 5:00am and proceeded to put that sign up, along with another one that said “9/11 Was An Inside Job”. My guess is the second sign was quickly taken down. Regardless, Kiel was quite proud of himself and his efforts to get his message of anarchy out there. The sign master and I made it to Byron Bay by the early afternoon, but not before Kiel was having a sick attack in the bus toilet. We somehow made it to our hostel (Nomad’s Byron Bay [8.5/10]) in one piece and again were sleeping in an eight-person dorm. With Kiel resting up at the dorm, I decided to check out the town and do some grocery shopping. Byron Bay is one of the most well-known places on the tourist trail in Australia. It seems to walk a very fine line, as it is big enough that it has all the amenities you need, but small enough that it still feels a bit like a hippy community, which it is famed for being. It also happens to have excellent beaches and a moderate year round climate which makes it a haven for backpackers. It’s one of those towns that also happens to party seven nights a week thanks to the large number of travellers! For dinner, Kiel ended up cooking us some delicious burgers on the barbecue, which we happily washed down with some beers followed by the good ole goon. This in turn was followed by a visit to the semi-famous backpackers bar, Cheeky Monkeys. We ended up rocking out there for a bit before I got booted for texting, yes texting, on my phone while I was waiting for Kiel take a leak. I pleaded with the bouncer outside to let me back in to try and find my brother, explaining that Kiel did not have a phone and I wasn’t sure if he knew how to get back to the hostel. Eventually my begging worked and the bouncer let me in, but only after he held my passport hostage sp that I would swiftly return. I never did find Kiel, so I instead decided to make myself feel better by eating a steak wrap. Let me tell you, it was a classy wrap and definitely made my night that much better. Delicious with a capital “D”.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010- Mother Of God, It’s Grizzly Adams. Nope, Just Kiel Dancing Like A Lunatic.
Wednesday morning it was time to keep the amusement park express moving and we promptly took our Season’s Pass to one of the Gold Coast’s most well-known parks, Sea World. Being the amusement park superstar that I am, the first thing we did upon our arrival was attempt to see as many of the shows as possible. Within the first few hours, I had managed to drag Leeanna along to the sting ray feeding, the penguin feeding, Happy Feet in 3D, the dolphin show, Pirates Unleashed, and last but certainly not least the Fish Detectives show starring what I can only presume are some of the smartest sea lions in the southern hemisphere. After some gnarly $10 hot dogs, we decided what better time to check out the few rides on offer than with a full stomach. Luckily for my gastrointestinal tract, none of the rides on offer were overly intense and we safely survived the one roller coaster, a flume ride and a small Jet Ski coaster called Jet Rescue that Leeanna loved so much she made me ride it three times! Other than those three, the only other “ride” on offer if you will was the Sky High Skyway which was basically a ski lift ride over the park that was more my speed. The real stars at Sea World though are the animals, and there was definitely no shortage of them. In addition to the ones we saw in the shows, we also tiger sharks, bull sharks, baby dolphins, and Canada’s most beloved export, polar bears (lazy bastards)! There were also some good hands on experiences, as you were allowed to pet giant sting rays and touch things like sea stars and star fish. By the end of the day, it was safe to say that we were both wiped out and had taken enough videos and pictures to make a bus load of Japanese tourists proud! In fact, I was so gassed that I almost didn’t notice when my lasagne almost burnt down our hotel room. Now that would’ve been a story!
November 4th was to be Leeanna’s last full day in Australia, and try as might I could not convince her to come to the water park Wet ‘n Wild with me. Being the 26-year old loser that I am, I decided to head to the water park on my own, as I could not in my conscience let my pass go to waste. Turns out, Leeanna probably made the right decision by not going, as it poured rain the entire time I was there and to be honest, a no-shirt party in the rain by yourself at a water park is just not as cool as it sounds. There was one notable slide at the park that I must mention, the Aqualoop, which reaches speeds of up to 60 kilometres an hour and takes you almost completely upside down. It was the most intense water slide ever. End of discussion. Look it up on YouTube if you don’t believe me. In the end though, I ended up staying less than two hours, as the weather was shit, lots of slides were closed, and many of the ones that were open required multiple riders at the same time (insert Brent feeling sorry for himself). Feeling dejected about my bad day at the water park, I marched my ass back to the resort and proceeded to help Leeanna pack all her shit (and lots of mine that I was forcing her to take), for her flight home the next morning. In honour of our love of the great Australian institute, the Pancake Parlour, we decided it would be fitting to have some flapjacks for Leeanna’s last supper. Naturally I had to order the all-you-can-eat with a beer on the side, and was left feeling like a beached whale afterwards. We capped the night off with a visit to the arcade (I’m not cool, this I know), where we proceeded to play such awesome games as Deal or No Deal, Arcade Basketball, and Guitar Hero. Not exactly the most thrilling last night, but by that point, she had seen it all and done it all! Plus as a bonus, we were able to use our arcade tickets to scoop up some pretty sweet souvenirs including a classy golf ball set! After taking a cab home because I had lost our bus tickets (and later found at home damn it!), we forced ourselves to drink the rest of the alcohol in our fridge, as we would be checking out in the morning, and let’s be real you can’t let that shit go to waste!
Friday morning was a bit of a rough start as I had to get up at 6:00am, not an ideal time to wake up when you were drinking and went to bed after 2:00am. With that in mind, I did manage to see Leeanna off to the airport and wish her safe travels from the comfort of my pyjama pants! So as Leeanna’s journey came to an end, mine was just getting warmed up, as I still had to survive close to two weeks with my younger, harder partying brother, Kiel. After packing up all of my stuff at the hotel I called home and was informed by my mom that Kiel would not be arriving that day as he had intended, as he had not been able to get on a flight out of Vancouver. With that in mind, I took the short bus ride to Brisbane and checked into my eight person room at the hostel (Bunk Brisbane [6.5/10]). Since this whole trip began almost a year earlier, I had not had to stay in large share rooms as I had been travelling with my girlfriend, who thankfully enjoyed privacy. But since my brother wanted to save money, meet people, party, and make an ass of himself in the bars, he had convinced me to stay in larger rooms. It looked like I was off to a bad start on my own; my room was full of a bunch of German dudes who looked like they were living there and had some really rank smelling clothes and stuff spread out everywhere. Since I had a day to kill on my own before my brother showed up, I decided to indulge in my addiction and headed straight downtown for the Treasury Casino. I ended up settling in at a fairly social $2/$4 No-Limit table that had a good assortment of characters. There also happened to be a couple of Ontario boys at the table who I got along with quite well. In a total six degrees of separation moment, the one guy, Sonny, asked me where I was from and when I told him, he proceeded to name drop my sister’s best friend as someone he knew! Next thing I knew, it was the middle of the night and Sonny and I had pounded back a ton of beers and were both somehow up a good amount of money. Next thing I knew, it was almost 5:00am and I had been playing for over fifteen hours straight, without eating or doing anything other than drinking, gambling, and urinating! My last hand of the night saw me get it all in pre-flop with three other players with me holding pocket aces. Naturally, I lost, but for once had been smart enough to pull some money off the table so I wouldn’t go broke. In conclusion, after fifteen hours, I had broken out even, although if you count the beers I bought with my chips I was probably up over $100 (Brent’s version of math). I decided to reward my efforts with a 5:30am drunk-as-a-skunk visit to McDonald’s for some breakfast before returning to my room. As luck would have it, in addition to the terrible smell in my room, there was also an ugly trollish-looking German girl sleeping on the top bunk of my bed, who looked like some kind of ugly Gremlin mutation. She kept staring at my drunken ass like she wanted to kill or eat me (are Gremlins allowed to eat at 6:00am?), and to make matters worse decided to roll around on the top bunk all morning like some kind of Parkinson’s inflicted baboon. God save me.
Shortly after I sauntered in from my gambling and drinking binge, I decided that sleep was going to be impossible. With that in mind, I dragged my ass out bed with less than two hours of shut eye. Kiel was scheduled to be arriving some time that morning, but I had no idea when and was pretty certain he would forget to call me. Taking that in to account, I decided to head out and take my drunk/turning into a hangover body out into the world. I made my way to City Hall where there was supposed to be a walking tour of the city on offer, but after waiting with a few other people for over half an hour, it was clear that the guide was not showing up. Being the go-getter that I am, I decided to organize my own one man walking tour and checked out most of the sights in Brisbane by myself. Feeling confident after a few hours of walking that I had covered most of the bases, I returned to the hostel, when low and behold, Kiel Moreau is standing there in the lobby with a beard that would’ve made Grizzly Adams proud! For most people, this may not seem like much, but as long as I can remember Kiel has always been clean-shaven and/or unable to grow anything but a few pubic looking soul patches on his face. It was clear; he was now truly a man. After setting him up in our room, we went out for some afternoon beers to catch up on life and all that I have missed in his life back home and vice versa. After walking off our afternoon delight, we headed to our hostel’s bar, Birdee Num Num (the one good thing about the hostel), for some more beers and pizza. Shortly thereafter, I am pretty sure we were both slizzored, and the last thing I remember was leaving Kiel on the dance floor dropping some ridiculous moves before I stumbled back to my bunk bed for the second night in a row. I’m pretty sure it was around this time that I had an epiphany... I was going to be in for some rough nights in the coming week.
November 4th was to be Leeanna’s last full day in Australia, and try as might I could not convince her to come to the water park Wet ‘n Wild with me. Being the 26-year old loser that I am, I decided to head to the water park on my own, as I could not in my conscience let my pass go to waste. Turns out, Leeanna probably made the right decision by not going, as it poured rain the entire time I was there and to be honest, a no-shirt party in the rain by yourself at a water park is just not as cool as it sounds. There was one notable slide at the park that I must mention, the Aqualoop, which reaches speeds of up to 60 kilometres an hour and takes you almost completely upside down. It was the most intense water slide ever. End of discussion. Look it up on YouTube if you don’t believe me. In the end though, I ended up staying less than two hours, as the weather was shit, lots of slides were closed, and many of the ones that were open required multiple riders at the same time (insert Brent feeling sorry for himself). Feeling dejected about my bad day at the water park, I marched my ass back to the resort and proceeded to help Leeanna pack all her shit (and lots of mine that I was forcing her to take), for her flight home the next morning. In honour of our love of the great Australian institute, the Pancake Parlour, we decided it would be fitting to have some flapjacks for Leeanna’s last supper. Naturally I had to order the all-you-can-eat with a beer on the side, and was left feeling like a beached whale afterwards. We capped the night off with a visit to the arcade (I’m not cool, this I know), where we proceeded to play such awesome games as Deal or No Deal, Arcade Basketball, and Guitar Hero. Not exactly the most thrilling last night, but by that point, she had seen it all and done it all! Plus as a bonus, we were able to use our arcade tickets to scoop up some pretty sweet souvenirs including a classy golf ball set! After taking a cab home because I had lost our bus tickets (and later found at home damn it!), we forced ourselves to drink the rest of the alcohol in our fridge, as we would be checking out in the morning, and let’s be real you can’t let that shit go to waste!
Friday morning was a bit of a rough start as I had to get up at 6:00am, not an ideal time to wake up when you were drinking and went to bed after 2:00am. With that in mind, I did manage to see Leeanna off to the airport and wish her safe travels from the comfort of my pyjama pants! So as Leeanna’s journey came to an end, mine was just getting warmed up, as I still had to survive close to two weeks with my younger, harder partying brother, Kiel. After packing up all of my stuff at the hotel I called home and was informed by my mom that Kiel would not be arriving that day as he had intended, as he had not been able to get on a flight out of Vancouver. With that in mind, I took the short bus ride to Brisbane and checked into my eight person room at the hostel (Bunk Brisbane [6.5/10]). Since this whole trip began almost a year earlier, I had not had to stay in large share rooms as I had been travelling with my girlfriend, who thankfully enjoyed privacy. But since my brother wanted to save money, meet people, party, and make an ass of himself in the bars, he had convinced me to stay in larger rooms. It looked like I was off to a bad start on my own; my room was full of a bunch of German dudes who looked like they were living there and had some really rank smelling clothes and stuff spread out everywhere. Since I had a day to kill on my own before my brother showed up, I decided to indulge in my addiction and headed straight downtown for the Treasury Casino. I ended up settling in at a fairly social $2/$4 No-Limit table that had a good assortment of characters. There also happened to be a couple of Ontario boys at the table who I got along with quite well. In a total six degrees of separation moment, the one guy, Sonny, asked me where I was from and when I told him, he proceeded to name drop my sister’s best friend as someone he knew! Next thing I knew, it was the middle of the night and Sonny and I had pounded back a ton of beers and were both somehow up a good amount of money. Next thing I knew, it was almost 5:00am and I had been playing for over fifteen hours straight, without eating or doing anything other than drinking, gambling, and urinating! My last hand of the night saw me get it all in pre-flop with three other players with me holding pocket aces. Naturally, I lost, but for once had been smart enough to pull some money off the table so I wouldn’t go broke. In conclusion, after fifteen hours, I had broken out even, although if you count the beers I bought with my chips I was probably up over $100 (Brent’s version of math). I decided to reward my efforts with a 5:30am drunk-as-a-skunk visit to McDonald’s for some breakfast before returning to my room. As luck would have it, in addition to the terrible smell in my room, there was also an ugly trollish-looking German girl sleeping on the top bunk of my bed, who looked like some kind of ugly Gremlin mutation. She kept staring at my drunken ass like she wanted to kill or eat me (are Gremlins allowed to eat at 6:00am?), and to make matters worse decided to roll around on the top bunk all morning like some kind of Parkinson’s inflicted baboon. God save me.
Shortly after I sauntered in from my gambling and drinking binge, I decided that sleep was going to be impossible. With that in mind, I dragged my ass out bed with less than two hours of shut eye. Kiel was scheduled to be arriving some time that morning, but I had no idea when and was pretty certain he would forget to call me. Taking that in to account, I decided to head out and take my drunk/turning into a hangover body out into the world. I made my way to City Hall where there was supposed to be a walking tour of the city on offer, but after waiting with a few other people for over half an hour, it was clear that the guide was not showing up. Being the go-getter that I am, I decided to organize my own one man walking tour and checked out most of the sights in Brisbane by myself. Feeling confident after a few hours of walking that I had covered most of the bases, I returned to the hostel, when low and behold, Kiel Moreau is standing there in the lobby with a beard that would’ve made Grizzly Adams proud! For most people, this may not seem like much, but as long as I can remember Kiel has always been clean-shaven and/or unable to grow anything but a few pubic looking soul patches on his face. It was clear; he was now truly a man. After setting him up in our room, we went out for some afternoon beers to catch up on life and all that I have missed in his life back home and vice versa. After walking off our afternoon delight, we headed to our hostel’s bar, Birdee Num Num (the one good thing about the hostel), for some more beers and pizza. Shortly thereafter, I am pretty sure we were both slizzored, and the last thing I remember was leaving Kiel on the dance floor dropping some ridiculous moves before I stumbled back to my bunk bed for the second night in a row. I’m pretty sure it was around this time that I had an epiphany... I was going to be in for some rough nights in the coming week.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010- Some People Sleep With Women, This Body Prefers Bed Bugs.
The day before Halloween (FYI: trick-or-treating is not a big a deal in Australia), was a day of highs and lows on the monetary front. First, the negative. After calling home that morning to talk with my brother and try and get his visit sorted out for the following week, I became embroiled in a discussion with my all-knowing mother who informed me that I MUST go to the doctor’s office and get my full-body-consuming bites looked at. Seeing as how I was still doped up from the three anti-histamines mixed with booze that I had consumed the night before, I gave in to her demands from the other side of the world. I had become quite proud of my streak of almost 365 days without seeing a doctor, but alas it was to come to an end. Leeanna escorted me to the doctor’s office, where I paid $65 for a two minute visit with the doc, who told me what I already knew, that they were probably bug bites. What a fucking genius! He cut me three prescriptions; one cream, one steroid, and one itch relief pill, and what do you know my pockets where another $75 lighter. The moral of the story kids, don’t sleep with bugs in your bed. Hot women and strippers; okay. Bed bugs; no dice. With my day already costing me a bit more than I had anticipated, I caught a break when Leeanna and I went to go mini-putting at King Tutt’s Putt Putt. Luckily for me, the guy at the counter wasn’t too swift (at least as far as mini-putt men go) and he decided to give me change from the $50 bill that I never handed to him. Therefore, we got a free round of mini-putt and about $30 handed to us for a nice tidy profit of $50. If only all mini-putt courses did this, they wouldn’t struggle so much for patronage! In the end, Leeanna and I ended up tying the first game with me naturally winning the second in a landslide, because let’s face it I am an animal with a putter in my hand and I really wasn’t trying the first game. To celebrate my victory, Leeanna and I headed back to the hotel, where I forced her to make me a BBQ by the pool and think about all that she did wrong on the mini-putt course!
Sunday morning I woke up very early, which had become a common theme for me, as the bug bites all over my body made it extremely difficult to sleep for long periods of time. With Leeanna still in a coma, I decided to take a very long beach walk and to book an early Sunday morning haircut. Upon my return home, I was still feeling extra spry and for the first time in my life (yes, life) I tried to make bacon and eggs. Needless to say it was not a total disaster, but if someone even tried to charge me $2 for that in a restaurant I would tell them to shove the burnt bacon up their ass. Next up on the busy day’s agenda was to head over to the suburb of Southport by bus and try and find a discount shoe factory store I had read about. I guess somehow, I just figured that we would stumble across it, but alas it was not to meant to be. Eventually Leeanna convinced me to give up and we ended up walking around forever trying to find a bus to take us back to the part of town we were slightly more familiar with. Luckily, the bus route back happened to take us right by a huge mall (although sadly it did not have a discount shoe factory store), where I proceeded to significantly update my wardrobe for the first time in almost a year. I ended up spending a few hundred dollars on three shirts, two pairs of shorts, a pair of shoes, some books, and my personal favourite, a Buffalo Sabres windbreaker that was on special for $10. I somehow doubt that Sabres merchandise sells too well Down Under, or anywhere, Buffalo included for that matter. This was not to be the end of our shopping though, as that evening we went out to all the Asian-run souvenir shops to purchase some last minute shit, I mean souvenirs, for Leeanna to take home. Still not feeling we had spent enough money for one Halloween, I treated Leeanna to one last “classy” dinner in Australia at some restaurant called Sage. I must say the food was excellent and all that jazz, but if there is one thing I will not miss at all about Australia, it’s the poor customer service you generally receive in restaurants. More than anything, I think this can be put down to the fact that it is not a gratuity-based business like it is in Canada, and this in turn causes waiters to not really give a fuck! Aside from the dodgy service, it was a tremendous meal, which we unfortunately had to walk off when we arrived back at our resort to discover that the power had gone out! Nothing settles a steak and beer quite like a solid stair climb at 11:00pm!
The next morning with our power fully restored and me not being allowed to cook, I went on a mission to try and sort our income tax and superannuation (pension) situation. From talking to other backpackers, we believed we would be entitled to a large chunk of our taxes back, which sounded pretty enticing as we had both been taxed close to $4500 each in the last fifteen weeks. We made our way over to an accountants where were promptly informed by some moron that we were not entitled to a refund because we were non-residents and would in fact owe money. I knew that he was wrong, as we were residents for tax purposes, but I could not be bothered arguing, so I just gathered up my stuff and out we went. Unfortunately, this led us to have to contact taxback.com, a website that specializes in backpacker tax refunds but also charges ridiculously high rates. Seeing as how we were running out of time though before Leeanna left the country, we had no option and set about making things happen. In the end, we learned that we would both be getting refunds estimated in the range of $3500, but that was after taxback.com took their fees which I believe were close to $400 each for the two of us! In addition to paying the highest ever rate for a tax return, I believe I also set a record for the most money spent in internet cafes in one day, with $20 being spread over three locations trying to figure out our taxes and my brother’s travel plans as he was due to arrive from Canada later in the week. Now that our taxes were all sorted, we could relax and that night we went to where Brent always goes to let off steam, the casino. Apparently, Jupiter’s Casino was the place to be on a Monday night, as the place was insanely busy. The money wheel was six people deep all around and you could all but forget about finding a decently priced blackjack table! Now I’ve been to Las Vegas numerous times, and believe me, the casinos there don’t look anything like this on a Monday. After having a few drinks at the bar, Leeanna and I ended up playing a bit of digital blackjack and roulette before packing it in for the night after we lost all our early profits but were still even for the night. One other random side note from the evening was the copious amount of Asian people consuming loads of alcohol. As someone who frequents casinos, I know that there are tons of Asians in casinos all over the world, but for the most part they are not large drinkers. On the Gold Coast, it seemed I had entered another world. Totally random fact, I know, and one hundred percent useless to the forward movement of this blog, but I somehow felt it necessary to mention.
Since we were starting to run out of time on the Gold Coast, Tuesday morning was time for us to do the one pre-requisite thing you must do when you visit the area; hit up the amusement parks. Leeanna and I decided to purchase a Season’s Pass for $100 which would give us unlimited access to three theme parks for a year, although we really only needed it for the next three days! It was well worth it though, as admission to the park we were going to that day, Warner Brother’s Movie World, had a price tag of $70 for one day entry! Movie World can best be described as a much smaller version of Canada’s Wonderland, although it definitely had better props and characters throughout the park with Looney Tunes being the overriding theme. Most of the rides were named after movies, such as the Lethal Weapon roller coaster, Batman Sling Shot, Wild West Falls, and our personal favourite, the Superman roller coaster. Superman was actually quite unique in that unlike any other roller coaster I had ever been on, it shots you at the beginning of the ride and you accelerate up a super-steep hill, instead of the slow descent you usually encounter on roller coasters. There were also some good shows that we saw during the day, including one featuring bunch of Hollywood stunt car drivers doing some crazy tricks in their cars and jumping through fire and shit like that. We also caught the “Journey to the Centre of the Earth” 4-D show, and for anyone wondering what the fourth “D” is, well it’s pretty much just water being shot and misted at you from the back of the seat in front of you. Either way, it was a great day, although the two highlights for me had nothing to do with rides. The first was early in the day when I discovered frozen, chocolate covered bananas. Simply put: delicious. The second, which was funny for everyone but me occurred when I was standing in line to get my Season’s Pass picture taken and a giant, and believe me I mean giant, spider fell out of an overhead vent and landed in my hair! At first I thought my hair was brushing up against a plant or something behind me, but I quickly noticed a giant arachnid scurrying down my body. This led me to jump around like a mad man and let out a loud series of expletives in front of a large number of young children. Let’s just say that if my mother was there she would have threatened me with the bar of soap like it was 1990 all over again. After my traumatic experience with the spider that day, it was nice to finally see my bites going down a bit that night, although the girlfriend didn’t seem to notice, as her Kardashian addiction was now in full overdrive and she could not get enough Kim, Khloe, and Kourtney. Okay, maybe I watch it too!
Sunday morning I woke up very early, which had become a common theme for me, as the bug bites all over my body made it extremely difficult to sleep for long periods of time. With Leeanna still in a coma, I decided to take a very long beach walk and to book an early Sunday morning haircut. Upon my return home, I was still feeling extra spry and for the first time in my life (yes, life) I tried to make bacon and eggs. Needless to say it was not a total disaster, but if someone even tried to charge me $2 for that in a restaurant I would tell them to shove the burnt bacon up their ass. Next up on the busy day’s agenda was to head over to the suburb of Southport by bus and try and find a discount shoe factory store I had read about. I guess somehow, I just figured that we would stumble across it, but alas it was not to meant to be. Eventually Leeanna convinced me to give up and we ended up walking around forever trying to find a bus to take us back to the part of town we were slightly more familiar with. Luckily, the bus route back happened to take us right by a huge mall (although sadly it did not have a discount shoe factory store), where I proceeded to significantly update my wardrobe for the first time in almost a year. I ended up spending a few hundred dollars on three shirts, two pairs of shorts, a pair of shoes, some books, and my personal favourite, a Buffalo Sabres windbreaker that was on special for $10. I somehow doubt that Sabres merchandise sells too well Down Under, or anywhere, Buffalo included for that matter. This was not to be the end of our shopping though, as that evening we went out to all the Asian-run souvenir shops to purchase some last minute shit, I mean souvenirs, for Leeanna to take home. Still not feeling we had spent enough money for one Halloween, I treated Leeanna to one last “classy” dinner in Australia at some restaurant called Sage. I must say the food was excellent and all that jazz, but if there is one thing I will not miss at all about Australia, it’s the poor customer service you generally receive in restaurants. More than anything, I think this can be put down to the fact that it is not a gratuity-based business like it is in Canada, and this in turn causes waiters to not really give a fuck! Aside from the dodgy service, it was a tremendous meal, which we unfortunately had to walk off when we arrived back at our resort to discover that the power had gone out! Nothing settles a steak and beer quite like a solid stair climb at 11:00pm!
The next morning with our power fully restored and me not being allowed to cook, I went on a mission to try and sort our income tax and superannuation (pension) situation. From talking to other backpackers, we believed we would be entitled to a large chunk of our taxes back, which sounded pretty enticing as we had both been taxed close to $4500 each in the last fifteen weeks. We made our way over to an accountants where were promptly informed by some moron that we were not entitled to a refund because we were non-residents and would in fact owe money. I knew that he was wrong, as we were residents for tax purposes, but I could not be bothered arguing, so I just gathered up my stuff and out we went. Unfortunately, this led us to have to contact taxback.com, a website that specializes in backpacker tax refunds but also charges ridiculously high rates. Seeing as how we were running out of time though before Leeanna left the country, we had no option and set about making things happen. In the end, we learned that we would both be getting refunds estimated in the range of $3500, but that was after taxback.com took their fees which I believe were close to $400 each for the two of us! In addition to paying the highest ever rate for a tax return, I believe I also set a record for the most money spent in internet cafes in one day, with $20 being spread over three locations trying to figure out our taxes and my brother’s travel plans as he was due to arrive from Canada later in the week. Now that our taxes were all sorted, we could relax and that night we went to where Brent always goes to let off steam, the casino. Apparently, Jupiter’s Casino was the place to be on a Monday night, as the place was insanely busy. The money wheel was six people deep all around and you could all but forget about finding a decently priced blackjack table! Now I’ve been to Las Vegas numerous times, and believe me, the casinos there don’t look anything like this on a Monday. After having a few drinks at the bar, Leeanna and I ended up playing a bit of digital blackjack and roulette before packing it in for the night after we lost all our early profits but were still even for the night. One other random side note from the evening was the copious amount of Asian people consuming loads of alcohol. As someone who frequents casinos, I know that there are tons of Asians in casinos all over the world, but for the most part they are not large drinkers. On the Gold Coast, it seemed I had entered another world. Totally random fact, I know, and one hundred percent useless to the forward movement of this blog, but I somehow felt it necessary to mention.
Since we were starting to run out of time on the Gold Coast, Tuesday morning was time for us to do the one pre-requisite thing you must do when you visit the area; hit up the amusement parks. Leeanna and I decided to purchase a Season’s Pass for $100 which would give us unlimited access to three theme parks for a year, although we really only needed it for the next three days! It was well worth it though, as admission to the park we were going to that day, Warner Brother’s Movie World, had a price tag of $70 for one day entry! Movie World can best be described as a much smaller version of Canada’s Wonderland, although it definitely had better props and characters throughout the park with Looney Tunes being the overriding theme. Most of the rides were named after movies, such as the Lethal Weapon roller coaster, Batman Sling Shot, Wild West Falls, and our personal favourite, the Superman roller coaster. Superman was actually quite unique in that unlike any other roller coaster I had ever been on, it shots you at the beginning of the ride and you accelerate up a super-steep hill, instead of the slow descent you usually encounter on roller coasters. There were also some good shows that we saw during the day, including one featuring bunch of Hollywood stunt car drivers doing some crazy tricks in their cars and jumping through fire and shit like that. We also caught the “Journey to the Centre of the Earth” 4-D show, and for anyone wondering what the fourth “D” is, well it’s pretty much just water being shot and misted at you from the back of the seat in front of you. Either way, it was a great day, although the two highlights for me had nothing to do with rides. The first was early in the day when I discovered frozen, chocolate covered bananas. Simply put: delicious. The second, which was funny for everyone but me occurred when I was standing in line to get my Season’s Pass picture taken and a giant, and believe me I mean giant, spider fell out of an overhead vent and landed in my hair! At first I thought my hair was brushing up against a plant or something behind me, but I quickly noticed a giant arachnid scurrying down my body. This led me to jump around like a mad man and let out a loud series of expletives in front of a large number of young children. Let’s just say that if my mother was there she would have threatened me with the bar of soap like it was 1990 all over again. After my traumatic experience with the spider that day, it was nice to finally see my bites going down a bit that night, although the girlfriend didn’t seem to notice, as her Kardashian addiction was now in full overdrive and she could not get enough Kim, Khloe, and Kourtney. Okay, maybe I watch it too!
Friday, December 10, 2010
Friday, October29, 2010- Steve Irwin. Half Man. Half Legend.
After barely surviving a bird attack the night before, Leeanna and I were up bright and early on Tuesday morning for our tour of the world famous (okay, Australia famous) Fraser Island. Now what exactly is Fraser Island you ask? Well, the long and short of it is that Fraser Island is the world’s largest sand island and is the reason Hervey Bay has become such a major tourist destination on the east coast. Our tour bus picked us up bright and early, at which time we found out there would only be six people on the tour that day, us and a group of four seniors! Apparently, the tour company had booked out 24 of their 30 available seats for a group, but when one of their two buses went down, they had to cancel the group. Enter the six of us! While one bus was in the shop, the one we were riding on didn’t look much better. The bus driver informed us that the air conditioning was not working and the 4-wheel drive was acting up. In addition to that, there was a huge crack in one of the windows on the side door. Now, I’m no expert on driving on sand islands, but I’m pretty sure 4-wheel drive is almost a necessity. Upon arriving at the island after our ferry ride over, the six of us boarded into our bus and were headed to one of the island’s famous lakes, when low and behold our bus got stuck! The driver tried feverishly to get the car down the sand road but to no avail. With 2-wheel drive it just wasn’t happening! I was starting to get the impression that it was going to be a long day. Having given up on the idea of visiting the lake, the driver escorted us to some of the island’s other attractions, including a shipwreck, rainforest walk, Eli Creek (creek you can walk through with really clear water), and the Pinnacles (goofy rocks with a bunch of crazy colours and shit). All very marvellous stuff to look at, although it would have been better with the comfort of air-conditioning between stops. Everyone who has been to Fraser Island knows that it is also famous for its large population of dingoes. Naturally, since everything went so swimmingly for us, we managed to spot exactly zero dingoes all day, and instead had to settle for seeing about 5000 dead birds that had all washed on shore and had apparently died during their migration due to a massive storm. After making it through most of the day on our sub-par tour, our driver randomly decided during afternoon tea that our bus was no longer safe enough to drive across the island because of the crack in the door window. Talk about the icing on the cake! We were then informed that we would have to flown off the island by some bush pilot that they were summoning to come rescue us. Low and behold, an hour later a plane is landing on the beach (yes, the beach!) and a pilot emerges wearing dirty clothes and no shoes. Not what we all had in mind, but as they say, beggars can’t be choosers. Next thing we know, the six of us are boarding the plane and taking off down the runway, sorry I mean beach. The people who were on the tour with us were really pissed off and vowed that they were going to file a complaint with the company. I on the other hand found it all quite comical and was trying to look at the positive side by remarking that we had at least gotten a free scenic flight over the island! After safely landing on an actual tarmac runway, we were met by a waiting taxicab that escorted us back to our accommodations and far away from the barefoot pilot. That night, the owner of the hostel, Gary, asked us how our tour went and I could not resist telling him about all the mishaps. Turns out, Gary was also quite pissed off and vowed to call the company the next day and try and get us a refund. The tour may not have gone as planned, but I must say it was one day tour I was not going to be forgetting anytime soon!
After checking out of our hostel the next day, it was off to the bus station to catch a ride down to the swank town of Noosa, which is located on what the Aussies call the Sunshine Coast. It also happens to be close to Steve Irwin’s Australia Zoo, which was the main reason we were going there. I’m pretty sure Leeanna’s whole mission in life (other than to have a nice base tan) has been to visit the Australia Zoo, so there were no ifs, ands, or buts about us going there. That morning, as we were about to board our bus, we ran into the senior from our tour the day before and learned that they bitched to the company and ended up getting their money back. They insisted that I call right away (which I did) and wouldn’t you know it, Miss Leeanna and I were on our way to each receiving a $165 refund! A nice turn-around from the day before I must say. With my smile still on my face from receiving my refund, we arrived in Noosa and checked into our hostel (Noosa Backapackers Resort [8/10]). We spent the remainder of the day walking around town and checking out all the mega-huge houses owned by the rich and not-so-famous before heading over to Noosa National Park to participate in Brent’s favourite activity... nature walks! I must say, at least we were rewarded by seeing one koala in the wild on our nature walk and some remarkable coast line, although I’m sure to Leeanna it’s all the same shit as nature walks just ain’t her bag! That evening I promptly felt the urge to order pizza and beers and put on ten times as many calories as I had burned off that day. I also started to notice that my body was getting quite itchy and was covered in bites. Can you say bed bugs anyone?
The next morning, we were back on the tourist trail, determined to spend our hard-earned Australian dollars. It was off to the aforementioned Australia Zoo (home of Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter), which has grown from a rinky-dink reptile park to one of the busiest and most well-known tourist attractions in the country. Seeing as how it’s located in the middle of nowhere though, we had to catch the complimentary shuttle. This was no ordinary shuttle bus though; it was one that played episodes of the Crocodile Hunter non-stop! Crikey! The zoo itself was actually pretty standard, and if anything I must honestly say it was a little small (especially for the inflated admission price). Most of the animals on display were of the Australian variety, with the exception of some of the more famous animals, such as tigers, elephants, etc. What they lacked in size though, I must say they more than made up for in other areas. For starters, the assortment of things dedicated to Steve Irwin, in addition to lots memorabilia and artefacts was truly great to see. Also, the zoo offered lots of interactive shows and feedings. We watched the tortoise feeding (insert own joke), the otter feeding, got to pet koalas and kangaroos, and even got to feed an elephant some fruit. There is nothing quite as comical as watching an elephant eat fruit, especially when people are feeding it into its trunk like it’s a god damn assembly line! Aside from all of this, the thing the zoo is most famous for is its Crocoseum, a 5000 seat amphitheatre where they perform live shows featuring crocodiles, birds, elephants, and an assortment of other creatures. I ended up volunteering and somehow being picked to participate in the bird show. I had to stand up in front of a few thousand people and make ridiculous bird noises and wave my arms like a knob. Apparently, some birds were supposed to fly over and land on me, but instead they decided that they had had enough of this shit and decided to fight the power and flew out of the stadium! This promptly led to a trainer running out of the Crocoseum to track down the birds and me standing there looking like a complete jackass. Oh well, at least I still got my free magazine for participating! After rounding up a large assortment of Crocodile Hunter souvenirs, we headed back to Noosa, where we spent the evening strolling the immaculate streets and eating gelato. Very Brad Pitt, I know.
Friday morning it was time to head on to the what would be the final leg of Leeanna’s OZ journey, the Gold Coast (think a cross between a poor man’s Las Vegas and Niagara Falls, with some gorgeous beaches thrown in for good measure). After wolfing down the world’s best free hostel breakfast consisting of eggs, bacon, and sausage, we headed to the bus stop and were on our way. The bus had a short layover in Brisbane, during which time I had to make a visit to the pharmacy to try and get something that would aid the itchiness being caused by the hundreds (no joke!) of bites that were now all over my body. The bites appeared to be getting worse by the day, but despite all this, Leeanna pointed out that we had gone a full year with having to visit a doctor between the two of us. Knock on wood. Knock on wood. After pumping some over the counter meds into me, we made our way to the Gold Coast and checked into our resort (Surf Parade Resort [9/10]), and man was it nice to not be staying in a hostel! Our ocean view room featured a balcony, flat screen TV, Jacuzzi, a separate bedroom, pull out couch, and a full kitchenette. Believe me, as happy as I was to not be staying in a hostel, Leeanna was ten times happier! Seeing as how we were going to be staying for a week, we loaded up on booze (duh!) and groceries that night before spending the evening relaxing in our “resort room” and watching reruns of “Keeping Up With The Kardashians” all night. I use the word relax quite sparingly though, as the bites all over my body were now all consuming and I felt the only thing to do was to take a large quantity of anti-histamines!
After checking out of our hostel the next day, it was off to the bus station to catch a ride down to the swank town of Noosa, which is located on what the Aussies call the Sunshine Coast. It also happens to be close to Steve Irwin’s Australia Zoo, which was the main reason we were going there. I’m pretty sure Leeanna’s whole mission in life (other than to have a nice base tan) has been to visit the Australia Zoo, so there were no ifs, ands, or buts about us going there. That morning, as we were about to board our bus, we ran into the senior from our tour the day before and learned that they bitched to the company and ended up getting their money back. They insisted that I call right away (which I did) and wouldn’t you know it, Miss Leeanna and I were on our way to each receiving a $165 refund! A nice turn-around from the day before I must say. With my smile still on my face from receiving my refund, we arrived in Noosa and checked into our hostel (Noosa Backapackers Resort [8/10]). We spent the remainder of the day walking around town and checking out all the mega-huge houses owned by the rich and not-so-famous before heading over to Noosa National Park to participate in Brent’s favourite activity... nature walks! I must say, at least we were rewarded by seeing one koala in the wild on our nature walk and some remarkable coast line, although I’m sure to Leeanna it’s all the same shit as nature walks just ain’t her bag! That evening I promptly felt the urge to order pizza and beers and put on ten times as many calories as I had burned off that day. I also started to notice that my body was getting quite itchy and was covered in bites. Can you say bed bugs anyone?
The next morning, we were back on the tourist trail, determined to spend our hard-earned Australian dollars. It was off to the aforementioned Australia Zoo (home of Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter), which has grown from a rinky-dink reptile park to one of the busiest and most well-known tourist attractions in the country. Seeing as how it’s located in the middle of nowhere though, we had to catch the complimentary shuttle. This was no ordinary shuttle bus though; it was one that played episodes of the Crocodile Hunter non-stop! Crikey! The zoo itself was actually pretty standard, and if anything I must honestly say it was a little small (especially for the inflated admission price). Most of the animals on display were of the Australian variety, with the exception of some of the more famous animals, such as tigers, elephants, etc. What they lacked in size though, I must say they more than made up for in other areas. For starters, the assortment of things dedicated to Steve Irwin, in addition to lots memorabilia and artefacts was truly great to see. Also, the zoo offered lots of interactive shows and feedings. We watched the tortoise feeding (insert own joke), the otter feeding, got to pet koalas and kangaroos, and even got to feed an elephant some fruit. There is nothing quite as comical as watching an elephant eat fruit, especially when people are feeding it into its trunk like it’s a god damn assembly line! Aside from all of this, the thing the zoo is most famous for is its Crocoseum, a 5000 seat amphitheatre where they perform live shows featuring crocodiles, birds, elephants, and an assortment of other creatures. I ended up volunteering and somehow being picked to participate in the bird show. I had to stand up in front of a few thousand people and make ridiculous bird noises and wave my arms like a knob. Apparently, some birds were supposed to fly over and land on me, but instead they decided that they had had enough of this shit and decided to fight the power and flew out of the stadium! This promptly led to a trainer running out of the Crocoseum to track down the birds and me standing there looking like a complete jackass. Oh well, at least I still got my free magazine for participating! After rounding up a large assortment of Crocodile Hunter souvenirs, we headed back to Noosa, where we spent the evening strolling the immaculate streets and eating gelato. Very Brad Pitt, I know.
Friday morning it was time to head on to the what would be the final leg of Leeanna’s OZ journey, the Gold Coast (think a cross between a poor man’s Las Vegas and Niagara Falls, with some gorgeous beaches thrown in for good measure). After wolfing down the world’s best free hostel breakfast consisting of eggs, bacon, and sausage, we headed to the bus stop and were on our way. The bus had a short layover in Brisbane, during which time I had to make a visit to the pharmacy to try and get something that would aid the itchiness being caused by the hundreds (no joke!) of bites that were now all over my body. The bites appeared to be getting worse by the day, but despite all this, Leeanna pointed out that we had gone a full year with having to visit a doctor between the two of us. Knock on wood. Knock on wood. After pumping some over the counter meds into me, we made our way to the Gold Coast and checked into our resort (Surf Parade Resort [9/10]), and man was it nice to not be staying in a hostel! Our ocean view room featured a balcony, flat screen TV, Jacuzzi, a separate bedroom, pull out couch, and a full kitchenette. Believe me, as happy as I was to not be staying in a hostel, Leeanna was ten times happier! Seeing as how we were going to be staying for a week, we loaded up on booze (duh!) and groceries that night before spending the evening relaxing in our “resort room” and watching reruns of “Keeping Up With The Kardashians” all night. I use the word relax quite sparingly though, as the bites all over my body were now all consuming and I felt the only thing to do was to take a large quantity of anti-histamines!
Monday, November 29, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010- Is It Wrong To Fart Directly On Another Man’s Gentials?
After suffering through another painful night of crows crowing and possums menacing about on top of my tent, I could not have been happier when the ferry pulled ashore just after 10:00am. To say that the final leg of our “vacation” had gotten off to a bumpy start would be like saying the Toronto Maple Leafs are a terrible hockey team. It was painfully fuckin’ obvious! After sprinting on to the ferry and running around naked in celebration of getting off the island, we enjoyed the ride back to the mainland and caught a bus to the closest city, Rockhampton, which is affectionately known as Australia’s “beef capital”. Quite the claim to fame, I know. Eventually we made our way to our hostel (Rockhampton YHA [7.5/10], and were pleasantly surprised to see that we had our own free-standing unit. Turns out, the hostel had purchased a bunch of these modular units that were used as athlete housing for the Sydney Olympics in 2000. Hell, it even came with Olympic pictures on the wall and an official certificate stating that some amateur athletes had taken a shit in the same toilet I was now about to defecate in! After spending the afternoon lounging about, Leeanna and I headed to the biggest tourist spot in town for the evening, the Great Western Hotel. The Great Western is really unlike anything I had ever seen or heard of before; a western style steakhouse and bar, with a giant indoor rodeo arena attached to it. They apparently run some pretty big rodeo events here, and every Friday night they have practice bull rides which are open to anybody to come and watch. So, seeing as how it was Friday, Lee and I crushed some steaks, enjoyed some cold beverages and proceeded to watch kids, teens, and adults of all ages attempt to ride the ferocious bulls. In all fairness, some of them weren’t that scary and were comically pathetic. For the most part though, it’s safe to say that dudes who ride bulls are some of the toughest sons-of-bitches on the planet (if you don’t believe me go watch the PBR on TV). All in all, it was a good show, but I just could not stop wondering how in the hell you get into bull riding in the first place?
Saturday morning we both woke up feeling the effect of one too many drinks the night before at the rodeo. Seeing as how we’re troopers though (and had to check out by 10:00am) we rounded up our gear, left it in the luggage storage and made our way to the local shopping complex, as we now had fourteen hours to kill before our bus to Hervey Bay that night at midnight. Seeing as how there is not a whole lot to do in Rockhampton, we spent the day at the mall and did a bit of shopping before catching a screening of the surprisingly good Ben Affleck movie, “The Town”. Later in the afternoon, I also happened to have this feeling that I should double-check our bus tickets. Well, wouldn’t you know, Brenty-Boo in all his wisdom had bought bus tickets for the night before. After calling the bus company and confirming that I was in fact a dumbass, I had to shell out another $100 for tickets that night. So with our new bus tickets, we made our way over towards the bus stop around dinner time and had to spend four hours hanging out in a McDonald’s, followed by another hour in a gas station restaurant. Best day ever! Finally at 12:15am, our bus arrived which was to be taking us south down the coast for six hours to Hervey Bay and Fraser Island. Leeanna and I were both looking forward to a good night’s rest, but let’s be real that would just be too easy. Within a minute of sitting on the bus, I started to notice that there were cockroaches everywhere. Fast-forward a couple more minutes, and after not telling Leeanna about my discovery, she screams that there are cockroaches crawling all over me and my knapsack. Upon further inspection with my trusty flashlight, I discovered that there were in fact hundreds of cockroaches everywhere on the floor and wall of the bus. No one else seemed to mind/notice, but we sure did and promptly moved from the back of the bus to the front. There were still some roaches at the front, but not enough to deter me from grabbing some sleep. Pretty sure Leeanna spent the entire six hour bus ride observing the behaviour of everyone’s favourite insects, deciding that this was a much safer option than dozing off like myself and the rest of the passengers who were bound to all die at the merciless antennae of the cockroaches.
After somehow surviving our bus ride, Leeanna and I rolled into Hervey Bay around 6:00am and I thought it was only fair that we should reward ourselves with a trip to McDonald’s while we wait for our shuttle bus to the hostel. After devouring our meals, it dawned on me that I had now eaten three meals at McDonald’s, one at KFC, and one at a greasy steakhouse all in the span of a mere 38 hours. Some people might be disgusted by such a statistic, but I felt I had reached a new high that day. No man should be able to function after such a stretch, but there I was feeling like Tommy Lee circa 1986. After checking into our hostel (The Friendly Hostel [9/10]), grabbing some groceries, and then booking our skydiving and Fraser Island tours for the following days, it was time to catch up on some much needed sleep in the form of nap time. If there’s one thing I love more than Mickey Dee’s, it’s a solid afternoon siesta. Feeling energized, that night we decided to take some bikes and head down to the beautiful beach front esplanade. Although it is very touristy, I must say it was well-maintained and a gorgeous place to go. It has a great trail system and some stunning views of the ocean. We followed up our little exercise session by settling in with a box of goon (see: cheap 4L box of wine) and some reality television, which let’s be real is the perfect Sunday night in anyone’s book.
October 25th. Yes, that shall officially go down in history as the day Brent and Leeanna decided to jump out of a plane. On that note, we were woken up earlier than planned that morning by a hostel employee who informed us that our skydiving would be commencing earlier than intended, as the weather patterns were changing and they wanted us to go before lightning had a chance to strike us down. With no time to think about what we were doing or second-guess ourselves, we were promptly taken to the local airport and given a safety briefing by a dude who had jumped out of a plane like 10,000 times (no joke!). Still not feeling anymore optimistic after the safety briefing, it was now or never. As luck would have it though (for me at least), the plane we would jumping from could only take one instructor and one skydiver at a time, so somehow we came to the conclusion that Leeanna would go first and me second. With that in mind, I made my way to the landing spot along the beach with another employee, while Leeanna was taken up to 14,000 feet! Next thing I know, a small speck is falling out of the sky at a rapid rate above the ocean and it magically turned into a small speck with a parachute. After safely landing on the beach, Leeanna seemed to be in shock that she had done it and quite frankly I was in shock she had done it! The same girl who had refused to do any kind of adventure sport during our time in Oz somehow just jumped out of a plane from 14,000 feet! Next up, it was my turn to go, so we made our way back the airport. While we were waiting and getting the plane ready, they showed us a video of Leeanna’s skydive which was comical to say the least. It featured some excellent shots of her drooling with her eyes closed. Turns out, she’s not as brave as I thought! With that in mind, I told them not to worry about filming me to save myself the embarrassment and the instructor, pilot, and I loaded up on to the plane. The plane takes about 20 minutes to get up to the desired elevation, which unfortunately gives you lots of time to ponder everything that can go wrong. Apparently, when I get nervous, I also have a tendency to fart. Now this isn’t a big problem in public spaces, but when you are in the world’s smallest airplane with a man strapping you to his chest and your asshole is pressed against his genitals, well you can see where this might cause some problems. I did everything in my power not to laugh and prayed that my instructor would not just throw me out the plane on my own into the ocean. Hands down, one of the five most awkward moments of my life! To get back on track, all the farting in the world doesn’t matter once that door on the plane opens and it’s time to rock and roll. Next thing I remember, after my fart and the door opening, was falling towards the coastline with my heart racing and some major breathing problems! Despite this, I do remember us getting some magnificent views of Fraser Island (the world’s largest sand island) and thinking that it would have been much more convenient to fart out here. After a 60-second freefall and a breezy parachute ride, we safely landed on the beach and I crossed one more thing off of the bucket list. With our adrenaline fix clearly taken care of for the day, we spent the rest of the day relaxing and booking the remainder of our accommodations for Leeanna’s time in Australia. For an evening activity, we decided to take a nice leisurely bike ride again, although this idea was quickly nixed as I became a victim of a magpie swooping. For those not in the know, a magpie is a bird about the size of a rotund seagull that is very territorial during its breeding season and takes to swooping at the backs of people’s heads that come into its territory. Sometimes they just graze you, as if to say, “get the fuck out of here, I warned you”, but other times they well actually connect with their beaks or claws and do some damage. Luckily I just got grazed, although it did scare the shit out of me and cause me to fall of my bike like a jackass. Lesson for the day: skydiving fun, small black and white birds dangerous.
Saturday morning we both woke up feeling the effect of one too many drinks the night before at the rodeo. Seeing as how we’re troopers though (and had to check out by 10:00am) we rounded up our gear, left it in the luggage storage and made our way to the local shopping complex, as we now had fourteen hours to kill before our bus to Hervey Bay that night at midnight. Seeing as how there is not a whole lot to do in Rockhampton, we spent the day at the mall and did a bit of shopping before catching a screening of the surprisingly good Ben Affleck movie, “The Town”. Later in the afternoon, I also happened to have this feeling that I should double-check our bus tickets. Well, wouldn’t you know, Brenty-Boo in all his wisdom had bought bus tickets for the night before. After calling the bus company and confirming that I was in fact a dumbass, I had to shell out another $100 for tickets that night. So with our new bus tickets, we made our way over towards the bus stop around dinner time and had to spend four hours hanging out in a McDonald’s, followed by another hour in a gas station restaurant. Best day ever! Finally at 12:15am, our bus arrived which was to be taking us south down the coast for six hours to Hervey Bay and Fraser Island. Leeanna and I were both looking forward to a good night’s rest, but let’s be real that would just be too easy. Within a minute of sitting on the bus, I started to notice that there were cockroaches everywhere. Fast-forward a couple more minutes, and after not telling Leeanna about my discovery, she screams that there are cockroaches crawling all over me and my knapsack. Upon further inspection with my trusty flashlight, I discovered that there were in fact hundreds of cockroaches everywhere on the floor and wall of the bus. No one else seemed to mind/notice, but we sure did and promptly moved from the back of the bus to the front. There were still some roaches at the front, but not enough to deter me from grabbing some sleep. Pretty sure Leeanna spent the entire six hour bus ride observing the behaviour of everyone’s favourite insects, deciding that this was a much safer option than dozing off like myself and the rest of the passengers who were bound to all die at the merciless antennae of the cockroaches.
After somehow surviving our bus ride, Leeanna and I rolled into Hervey Bay around 6:00am and I thought it was only fair that we should reward ourselves with a trip to McDonald’s while we wait for our shuttle bus to the hostel. After devouring our meals, it dawned on me that I had now eaten three meals at McDonald’s, one at KFC, and one at a greasy steakhouse all in the span of a mere 38 hours. Some people might be disgusted by such a statistic, but I felt I had reached a new high that day. No man should be able to function after such a stretch, but there I was feeling like Tommy Lee circa 1986. After checking into our hostel (The Friendly Hostel [9/10]), grabbing some groceries, and then booking our skydiving and Fraser Island tours for the following days, it was time to catch up on some much needed sleep in the form of nap time. If there’s one thing I love more than Mickey Dee’s, it’s a solid afternoon siesta. Feeling energized, that night we decided to take some bikes and head down to the beautiful beach front esplanade. Although it is very touristy, I must say it was well-maintained and a gorgeous place to go. It has a great trail system and some stunning views of the ocean. We followed up our little exercise session by settling in with a box of goon (see: cheap 4L box of wine) and some reality television, which let’s be real is the perfect Sunday night in anyone’s book.
October 25th. Yes, that shall officially go down in history as the day Brent and Leeanna decided to jump out of a plane. On that note, we were woken up earlier than planned that morning by a hostel employee who informed us that our skydiving would be commencing earlier than intended, as the weather patterns were changing and they wanted us to go before lightning had a chance to strike us down. With no time to think about what we were doing or second-guess ourselves, we were promptly taken to the local airport and given a safety briefing by a dude who had jumped out of a plane like 10,000 times (no joke!). Still not feeling anymore optimistic after the safety briefing, it was now or never. As luck would have it though (for me at least), the plane we would jumping from could only take one instructor and one skydiver at a time, so somehow we came to the conclusion that Leeanna would go first and me second. With that in mind, I made my way to the landing spot along the beach with another employee, while Leeanna was taken up to 14,000 feet! Next thing I know, a small speck is falling out of the sky at a rapid rate above the ocean and it magically turned into a small speck with a parachute. After safely landing on the beach, Leeanna seemed to be in shock that she had done it and quite frankly I was in shock she had done it! The same girl who had refused to do any kind of adventure sport during our time in Oz somehow just jumped out of a plane from 14,000 feet! Next up, it was my turn to go, so we made our way back the airport. While we were waiting and getting the plane ready, they showed us a video of Leeanna’s skydive which was comical to say the least. It featured some excellent shots of her drooling with her eyes closed. Turns out, she’s not as brave as I thought! With that in mind, I told them not to worry about filming me to save myself the embarrassment and the instructor, pilot, and I loaded up on to the plane. The plane takes about 20 minutes to get up to the desired elevation, which unfortunately gives you lots of time to ponder everything that can go wrong. Apparently, when I get nervous, I also have a tendency to fart. Now this isn’t a big problem in public spaces, but when you are in the world’s smallest airplane with a man strapping you to his chest and your asshole is pressed against his genitals, well you can see where this might cause some problems. I did everything in my power not to laugh and prayed that my instructor would not just throw me out the plane on my own into the ocean. Hands down, one of the five most awkward moments of my life! To get back on track, all the farting in the world doesn’t matter once that door on the plane opens and it’s time to rock and roll. Next thing I remember, after my fart and the door opening, was falling towards the coastline with my heart racing and some major breathing problems! Despite this, I do remember us getting some magnificent views of Fraser Island (the world’s largest sand island) and thinking that it would have been much more convenient to fart out here. After a 60-second freefall and a breezy parachute ride, we safely landed on the beach and I crossed one more thing off of the bucket list. With our adrenaline fix clearly taken care of for the day, we spent the rest of the day relaxing and booking the remainder of our accommodations for Leeanna’s time in Australia. For an evening activity, we decided to take a nice leisurely bike ride again, although this idea was quickly nixed as I became a victim of a magpie swooping. For those not in the know, a magpie is a bird about the size of a rotund seagull that is very territorial during its breeding season and takes to swooping at the backs of people’s heads that come into its territory. Sometimes they just graze you, as if to say, “get the fuck out of here, I warned you”, but other times they well actually connect with their beaks or claws and do some damage. Luckily I just got grazed, although it did scare the shit out of me and cause me to fall of my bike like a jackass. Lesson for the day: skydiving fun, small black and white birds dangerous.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010- I Admit, Possums Are The Scariest Creatures Ever
The 18th of October would mark our final day in Dingo. As much as I was excited to get out on the road again, I must also admit there was a small part of me that was sad to leave. I mean, the thought of possibly never making another works burger almost brings a tear to my eye. My last shift was pretty uneventful, although I did remember to take my camera to work so I could take pictures of all the ridiculous burgers and shit that I make on an average day. While work was okay, my laundry turned out to be quite an expensive affair as I put my $250 IPod through the washer. Just in case anyone was wondering, yeah, IPods are not very water-friendly! That evening in honour of our departure from Dingo, we decided to have a few people over to the house for drinks. Next thing I knew, it was 3:30am, and we were still pounding beers and realized Leeanna and I had to get up at 6:30am. Always seems like a good idea at the time.
As expected, after only three hours of sleep and a nice drink session, we naturally slept in on Tuesday morning. This in turn caused us to have a very frantic morning as our housemate Dan was scheduled to drive us to a place called Rossyln Bay. After saying our goodbyes to Liz and Andy at the house, we loaded into the car with Dan and set out on our 200 kilometre drive back to civilization (or so we thought). That morning, Leeanna and I were scheduled to catch a ferry out to a place called Great Keppel Island, which is a fairly large island, located right on the Great Barrier Reef about 15 kilometres off the mainland. Of course, on our drive we had to run into construction delays, so I spent most of the morning stressing if we would make it to the ferry on time. Somehow, we made it with; no word of a lie, less than a minute to spare, which if you ask me shows some pretty good time management skills. I mean, how many people do you know can time a 2.5 hour drive to the minute? That’s what I thought! After saying so long to Dan and running onto the ferry, it was nice to finally settle down and start to enjoy our “vacation”. Well at least that was the plan. My life never seems to follow its plans too well. After reaching the island in one piece, we quickly discovered that there was nowhere on the island to buy groceries or alcohol. Thankfully we did have a few snacks and light meals we had packed or else we would’ve been really S.O.L. After wandering about the island for a bit and somehow getting lost, we eventually found our accommodation (Great Keppel Island Holiday Village [6/10]). We had booked ourselves into a “tent” style room, which consists of an actual tent with a double bed and two night tables in it. Slightly different I thought, I mean, a tent with a double bed in just doesn’t seem to invoke that “nature” style feeling. After checking in, we headed out to explore the island, and what a beaut it is! As mentioned, Great Keppel Island is located right on the Great Barrier Reef, and from a beach point of view has to be one of Australia’s great hidden gems. There are probably less than a couple hundred people on the whole island, and if you want you can have a beach all to yourself. As Leeanna and I were strolling along that night, we happened to see a guy fishing right on the beach who looked like he had a monster catch. After he struggled for a good fifteen minutes, he finally reeled in a fair size sting ray. It was around this time that someone else fishing there mentioned that the day before someone had caught a tiger shark in the exact same spot. Now I don’t know about you, but when someone is catching tiger sharks on beaches that I’m supposed to be swimming in, alarm bells start going off in my head. That evening, I set out to make us pasta for dinner (MasterChef Moreau!) and with a great stroke of luck ran into a guy in the kitchen who had just gotten married. No, that’s not the good part. The good part was, the wedding party had an abundance of alcohol (I had none) and this kind scholar was willing to sell it to me on the cheap. Twenty dollars later, I had myself a bottle of rum and we were set for the night. Unfortunately, the power went out that night at about 9:30pm, which would end up being a reoccurring theme every night (no one told us this when we checked in). So all we could do was drink in the dark and hide in our tent from the possums which were lurking everywhere and causing a ruckus!
The next morning we awoke bright and early, as the birds make sure you wake up at 4:00am. Now normally I love nature, but I hate fucking crows! These things just would not shut up, and I must say put a big damper on the start of the final leg of our Australian journey. After finally going back to sleep for a bit, we awoke at a more human time and made our way down to the beach to try our hand at some water sports. We both signed up for the “Great Day Out” package, which was supposed to include a tube ride, use of a catamaran, snorkel gear, and a kayak hire. Because it was so windy, we were unable to go tubing or use a catamaran, so we had to settle for kayaking and snorkel gear. After perfecting our paddle strokes, Leeanna and I set off in our kayak for a beach on the other side of the island. Let me just say, to anyone who has never kayaked on the ocean; way more difficult than on a lake. I mean between the waves and the man-eating sharks, it’s quite a task. Once we arrived safely at the beach, we attempted to snorkel a bit, although this was thwarted by Leeanna’s fear of water, some dodgy equipment, and my general fear of tiger sharks. Instead, we opted to lie on the beach and get burnt to a crisp, like the pasty white folk we are. That night, we decided to reward our hard day of tanning and paddling by having some drinks at the only pub on the island before making our way back to the resort. When we went back, we tried to sit out on our little deck in front of our tent, but we were constantly being harassed by possums. Most people would just ignore the possums, but I’m a baby and felt I would be much safer curled up in my tent. Like the night before, the power went out at about 9:30pm and the resort went quiet...except for the sounds of possums and birds. Despite my fears, that night I made a run to the community kitchen to grab some food, all the while being careful not to be ravaged be a five-pound possum. Upon my return to the tent I realized I had left the door to the kitchen open, which is a big no-no! Next thing I know, Leeanna and I can hear possums banging around in the kitchen, but I was too afraid to leave the tent and do anything about it! Finally after what felt like an eternity, I grew a very small pair of testicles and decided to venture out into the darkness with my cell phone flashlight. Sure enough, possums had been banging around the kitchen and just everywhere for that matter. Luckily, a girl who was inherently much braver than I came by and shooed away the possums as if they were nothing. All the while, Leeanna and I nearly shit our pants trying to walk to the bathroom, as every noise we heard we thought was a possum out to get us! Eventually, I returned to my bed like a coward and cried myself to sleep having nightmares about possums dressed up like the cast of “Glee”.
Thursday morning, we were again awoken by the painful sound of crows crowing at 4:00am. After my near death experience the night before with the possums, I was in no mood, but alas here we were trapped on this island. It ended up raining pretty much all day, which sucked because we were supposed to go tubing which we had not been able to do the day before either. We ended up just hanging about most of the day and nursing our third degree sunburns from the day before. Around dinner time when it finally stopped raining, we went from some nature walks, although Leeanna is not too keen on walks these days due to my poor navigational and walk-time-estimation skills. That night we went to the pub for dinner as we were effectively out of food and we decided that we were also just fed up with the island! We would be on the first ferry out in the morning. At night, it was more of the same, with the possums strolling around the resort like they own the place and me being terrified I was going to get my eyes gouged out every time I walked to the bathroom at night!
In all seriousness people, Chuck Norris doesn’t kill people; possums do.
As expected, after only three hours of sleep and a nice drink session, we naturally slept in on Tuesday morning. This in turn caused us to have a very frantic morning as our housemate Dan was scheduled to drive us to a place called Rossyln Bay. After saying our goodbyes to Liz and Andy at the house, we loaded into the car with Dan and set out on our 200 kilometre drive back to civilization (or so we thought). That morning, Leeanna and I were scheduled to catch a ferry out to a place called Great Keppel Island, which is a fairly large island, located right on the Great Barrier Reef about 15 kilometres off the mainland. Of course, on our drive we had to run into construction delays, so I spent most of the morning stressing if we would make it to the ferry on time. Somehow, we made it with; no word of a lie, less than a minute to spare, which if you ask me shows some pretty good time management skills. I mean, how many people do you know can time a 2.5 hour drive to the minute? That’s what I thought! After saying so long to Dan and running onto the ferry, it was nice to finally settle down and start to enjoy our “vacation”. Well at least that was the plan. My life never seems to follow its plans too well. After reaching the island in one piece, we quickly discovered that there was nowhere on the island to buy groceries or alcohol. Thankfully we did have a few snacks and light meals we had packed or else we would’ve been really S.O.L. After wandering about the island for a bit and somehow getting lost, we eventually found our accommodation (Great Keppel Island Holiday Village [6/10]). We had booked ourselves into a “tent” style room, which consists of an actual tent with a double bed and two night tables in it. Slightly different I thought, I mean, a tent with a double bed in just doesn’t seem to invoke that “nature” style feeling. After checking in, we headed out to explore the island, and what a beaut it is! As mentioned, Great Keppel Island is located right on the Great Barrier Reef, and from a beach point of view has to be one of Australia’s great hidden gems. There are probably less than a couple hundred people on the whole island, and if you want you can have a beach all to yourself. As Leeanna and I were strolling along that night, we happened to see a guy fishing right on the beach who looked like he had a monster catch. After he struggled for a good fifteen minutes, he finally reeled in a fair size sting ray. It was around this time that someone else fishing there mentioned that the day before someone had caught a tiger shark in the exact same spot. Now I don’t know about you, but when someone is catching tiger sharks on beaches that I’m supposed to be swimming in, alarm bells start going off in my head. That evening, I set out to make us pasta for dinner (MasterChef Moreau!) and with a great stroke of luck ran into a guy in the kitchen who had just gotten married. No, that’s not the good part. The good part was, the wedding party had an abundance of alcohol (I had none) and this kind scholar was willing to sell it to me on the cheap. Twenty dollars later, I had myself a bottle of rum and we were set for the night. Unfortunately, the power went out that night at about 9:30pm, which would end up being a reoccurring theme every night (no one told us this when we checked in). So all we could do was drink in the dark and hide in our tent from the possums which were lurking everywhere and causing a ruckus!
The next morning we awoke bright and early, as the birds make sure you wake up at 4:00am. Now normally I love nature, but I hate fucking crows! These things just would not shut up, and I must say put a big damper on the start of the final leg of our Australian journey. After finally going back to sleep for a bit, we awoke at a more human time and made our way down to the beach to try our hand at some water sports. We both signed up for the “Great Day Out” package, which was supposed to include a tube ride, use of a catamaran, snorkel gear, and a kayak hire. Because it was so windy, we were unable to go tubing or use a catamaran, so we had to settle for kayaking and snorkel gear. After perfecting our paddle strokes, Leeanna and I set off in our kayak for a beach on the other side of the island. Let me just say, to anyone who has never kayaked on the ocean; way more difficult than on a lake. I mean between the waves and the man-eating sharks, it’s quite a task. Once we arrived safely at the beach, we attempted to snorkel a bit, although this was thwarted by Leeanna’s fear of water, some dodgy equipment, and my general fear of tiger sharks. Instead, we opted to lie on the beach and get burnt to a crisp, like the pasty white folk we are. That night, we decided to reward our hard day of tanning and paddling by having some drinks at the only pub on the island before making our way back to the resort. When we went back, we tried to sit out on our little deck in front of our tent, but we were constantly being harassed by possums. Most people would just ignore the possums, but I’m a baby and felt I would be much safer curled up in my tent. Like the night before, the power went out at about 9:30pm and the resort went quiet...except for the sounds of possums and birds. Despite my fears, that night I made a run to the community kitchen to grab some food, all the while being careful not to be ravaged be a five-pound possum. Upon my return to the tent I realized I had left the door to the kitchen open, which is a big no-no! Next thing I know, Leeanna and I can hear possums banging around in the kitchen, but I was too afraid to leave the tent and do anything about it! Finally after what felt like an eternity, I grew a very small pair of testicles and decided to venture out into the darkness with my cell phone flashlight. Sure enough, possums had been banging around the kitchen and just everywhere for that matter. Luckily, a girl who was inherently much braver than I came by and shooed away the possums as if they were nothing. All the while, Leeanna and I nearly shit our pants trying to walk to the bathroom, as every noise we heard we thought was a possum out to get us! Eventually, I returned to my bed like a coward and cried myself to sleep having nightmares about possums dressed up like the cast of “Glee”.
Thursday morning, we were again awoken by the painful sound of crows crowing at 4:00am. After my near death experience the night before with the possums, I was in no mood, but alas here we were trapped on this island. It ended up raining pretty much all day, which sucked because we were supposed to go tubing which we had not been able to do the day before either. We ended up just hanging about most of the day and nursing our third degree sunburns from the day before. Around dinner time when it finally stopped raining, we went from some nature walks, although Leeanna is not too keen on walks these days due to my poor navigational and walk-time-estimation skills. That night we went to the pub for dinner as we were effectively out of food and we decided that we were also just fed up with the island! We would be on the first ferry out in the morning. At night, it was more of the same, with the possums strolling around the resort like they own the place and me being terrified I was going to get my eyes gouged out every time I walked to the bathroom at night!
In all seriousness people, Chuck Norris doesn’t kill people; possums do.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010 – Life In Dingo. A Classic Tale
As you may have gathered from my first couple of posts on this booming town I live in, there is not a whole lot to do/see/experience in the town of Dingo. Why Dingo even exists is a mystery to me, but I guess I can see the purpose. From what I can tell, our roadhouse derives most of its business from truckers and workers stopping off before heading into the coal mines that are scattered throughout Central Queensland and people stopping off who are going other, more exciting places and just need a quick break!
The actual town itself though is a pretty meek affair. Located just off of the Capricorn Highway (so named because it runs along the Tropic of Capricorn), Dingo is a sleepy town consisting of about 150-200 people. Of this population, a good percentage is foreigners who have moved here for work or are temporarily working here, such as Leeanna and I. At the roadhouse, we’ve got a wide assortment of nationalities including Canadians, Brits, Irish, Americans, Kiwis, Swedish, Dutch, and of course lots of Aussies as well. It seems to me that most of the locals work at one of the two sawmills located in town that are the primary employer in the area. Other than that, there seems to be quite a few people who work in the mines, which pays quite well and usually has people working on something like four-on, four off or eight-on, eight-off, etc.
Most of the houses in Dingo are of the “Queenslander” variety, which as far as I can tell, loosely means “shitty, open air style houses with little insulation that are built on stilts in case it floods”. I’m not sure if this is the literal translation, but I’m pretty sure it’s got to be something close to that. In regards to the rest of the town, there are only a handful of public buildings, including a library the size of my bedroom that’s open two days a week; a small one-room pub that would not be out place in some Australian outback joke; and a general store that is well a general store. Outside of this, you’ve got an elementary school that houses 30-odd kids divided into two classes: Kindergarten to Grade 3 and Grade 4 to Grade 7. I’m guessing the kids all become pretty good friends, as there’s not a whole lot of selection available to you on the “friends” front. The only other structures of note that come to mind, are the two aforementioned sawmills, a couple of tennis courts, a race course, and a rodeo ring/horse jumping course. Yes, somehow in a town of only a couple hundred people we have a full-on racecourse and a proper rodeo facility!
After reading that, you’re probably asking yourself, what the fuck do people do for entertainment in the this place, Brent? I mean, besides drink at the pub and lick the backs of toads for hallucinogenic side effects.
On the home front, we watch a lot of DVDs, and boy do I mean a lot of DVDs. Once a week, Leeanna, Dan, and I borrow the roadhouse’s ute (see: small Australian pick-up truck) and cruise into the town of Blackwater that is about 45 minutes away. This trip usually consists of our grocery shopping, renting an ass-load of DVDs and on occasion getting a haircut that would make Jim Carrey’s character in “Dumb and Dumber” proud. Sadly, this outing to the small, mining town is usually the highlight of our week, because let’s be real, what’s more exciting at the age of 26 than a good ole Thursday afternoon grocery shop followed by a trip to the video store to rent some of Meryl Streep’s greatest hits? Nada.
A couple of other popular pastimes amongst the ranks here are our weekly poker games and the occasional tennis match. Due to the large number of bored travellers and workers, assembling poker games has usually not been too difficult as most weeks we draw between six and ten people, with me usually donating my money to someone else’s travel fund. Tennis meanwhile, has definitely been something I’ve enjoyed getting back into, as it was a major hobby of mine in my younger days. In the 15 weeks I’ve been here, I have played more tennis than I probably have in the last eight years of my life combined. Unfortunately for me, I still suck huge donkey balls, as evidenced by my choke performance in the Dingo Roadhouse Tennis League. There’s a good chance if my parent’s find out I lost a match, gulp, to an Englishman, they may trade me in for a box of used condoms or something to that effect.
On a less competitive note, another Dingo high point for me was being asked to go into the school for reading week to read to the kids. In all honesty I was actually quite nervous getting in front of a bunch of little kids, but luckily for me none of them seemed to care too much. They just wanted to know about such pressing things as polar bears, squirrels, and what types of snakes I had seen. I kept my trouser snake jokes to myself and soldiered on through the books. Following the readings I was presented with more tough questions, such as, “what’s your favourite page in the book?” Difficult one to answer made even more difficult when the next kids asks, “what’s your second favourite page in the book?” Are these kids for real!? Seeing as how Dingo is such a small town and I talk with a funny accent, my readings at the school made me an instant target for the local youth, who it seems all love saying hello to me and want me to play sports with them. This inevitably led to my multiple rugby showdowns against the kids and my getting destroyed physically by a 12-year old man-child. It was worth it though, as I now know the rules to rugby and can say I would probably be competitive in an under 10s league. Then again, I would probably still suck.
Other than our weekly trips to Blackwater, Leeanna and I have only really ventured into real civilization once, and that was when we borrowed the ute for a day and drove to Rockhampton. The first thing we did when we got there, aside from notice that they had traffic lights, was head to a fast food restaurant. This was promptly followed by an afternoon spent in the massive shopping mall and a lovely dinner at a restaurant along the Fitzroy River called Cassidy’s. It was a nice change, and during our fifteen weeks in Dingo it was the only thing even remotely resembling urban life we ever saw. Our only other day trip was when Leeanna, Dan, and I went to the Blackdown Tablelands which is a national park located just outside of Dingo. It’s really a beautiful sight, if not a bit odd, as there are a bunch of mountains rising out above some of the flattest land this side of Sydney. It features some gorgeous walks and lookouts amongst the mountains and some swimming holes as well. Dan was the only one brave enough to tackle the murky waters, as Leeanna and I were content to watch him swim while we ate our crackers and imagines what was lurking beneath.
The last notable thing that comes to my mind when thinking about Dingo is what every Dingo citizen lives for, the annual “Dingo Trap-Throwing Competition and Race Day”. This was held in October and it’s the biggest event of the year in the town and draws a few hundred people out the racecourse (only time it gets used all year) for an afternoon of horse racing, beauty pageants, booze guzzling, and my personal favourite goat-cart racing. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried people. The day was a lot of good fun and was highlighted by the annual dingo trap-throwing competition, which consists of people throwing something resembling a bear-trap like it’s a discus, all in the name of a fairly healthy $500 first prize. This event is a great source of pride for the town and I’ve even heard the words “world famous” thrown around, albeit very loosely. Despite this, my favourite event was watching the little kids strapped into chariots attached to goats and race them down the track like it was the redneck Kentucky Derby. A close second would have to be the country-dance at the end of the night, which provided me with some good laughs, although at that point it may have had more to do with the 20-odd beers I had consumed during the course of the day. All in all, it was a fun day out at the country races and I must say I am disappointed that I had to work during the rodeo the other night, as I imagine that would’ve been a bucking good time. Yes, I know, worst joke ever.
And on that note, it was with only the fondest (my choice of words, not Leeanna’s) memories that her and I must vacate the green pastures of the Dingo Roadhouse for the Queensland coast. It’s been real and I must thank Kiwi Bob the manager for providing us with an excellent opportunity to save money over the last little while. And thanks to everyone who’s made our time here enjoyable/bearable, it’s been real to say the least. So with that I say to Dan, Shane, Tom, Amy, Max, Elin, Johnny, Adam, Liz, Andy, Allison, Dan II, Tony, John and anyone else I may be forgetting thanks for the memories and good luck with your future endeavours and your escape from Dingo (or settling in if that’s the kind of thing you’re into)!
The actual town itself though is a pretty meek affair. Located just off of the Capricorn Highway (so named because it runs along the Tropic of Capricorn), Dingo is a sleepy town consisting of about 150-200 people. Of this population, a good percentage is foreigners who have moved here for work or are temporarily working here, such as Leeanna and I. At the roadhouse, we’ve got a wide assortment of nationalities including Canadians, Brits, Irish, Americans, Kiwis, Swedish, Dutch, and of course lots of Aussies as well. It seems to me that most of the locals work at one of the two sawmills located in town that are the primary employer in the area. Other than that, there seems to be quite a few people who work in the mines, which pays quite well and usually has people working on something like four-on, four off or eight-on, eight-off, etc.
Most of the houses in Dingo are of the “Queenslander” variety, which as far as I can tell, loosely means “shitty, open air style houses with little insulation that are built on stilts in case it floods”. I’m not sure if this is the literal translation, but I’m pretty sure it’s got to be something close to that. In regards to the rest of the town, there are only a handful of public buildings, including a library the size of my bedroom that’s open two days a week; a small one-room pub that would not be out place in some Australian outback joke; and a general store that is well a general store. Outside of this, you’ve got an elementary school that houses 30-odd kids divided into two classes: Kindergarten to Grade 3 and Grade 4 to Grade 7. I’m guessing the kids all become pretty good friends, as there’s not a whole lot of selection available to you on the “friends” front. The only other structures of note that come to mind, are the two aforementioned sawmills, a couple of tennis courts, a race course, and a rodeo ring/horse jumping course. Yes, somehow in a town of only a couple hundred people we have a full-on racecourse and a proper rodeo facility!
After reading that, you’re probably asking yourself, what the fuck do people do for entertainment in the this place, Brent? I mean, besides drink at the pub and lick the backs of toads for hallucinogenic side effects.
On the home front, we watch a lot of DVDs, and boy do I mean a lot of DVDs. Once a week, Leeanna, Dan, and I borrow the roadhouse’s ute (see: small Australian pick-up truck) and cruise into the town of Blackwater that is about 45 minutes away. This trip usually consists of our grocery shopping, renting an ass-load of DVDs and on occasion getting a haircut that would make Jim Carrey’s character in “Dumb and Dumber” proud. Sadly, this outing to the small, mining town is usually the highlight of our week, because let’s be real, what’s more exciting at the age of 26 than a good ole Thursday afternoon grocery shop followed by a trip to the video store to rent some of Meryl Streep’s greatest hits? Nada.
A couple of other popular pastimes amongst the ranks here are our weekly poker games and the occasional tennis match. Due to the large number of bored travellers and workers, assembling poker games has usually not been too difficult as most weeks we draw between six and ten people, with me usually donating my money to someone else’s travel fund. Tennis meanwhile, has definitely been something I’ve enjoyed getting back into, as it was a major hobby of mine in my younger days. In the 15 weeks I’ve been here, I have played more tennis than I probably have in the last eight years of my life combined. Unfortunately for me, I still suck huge donkey balls, as evidenced by my choke performance in the Dingo Roadhouse Tennis League. There’s a good chance if my parent’s find out I lost a match, gulp, to an Englishman, they may trade me in for a box of used condoms or something to that effect.
On a less competitive note, another Dingo high point for me was being asked to go into the school for reading week to read to the kids. In all honesty I was actually quite nervous getting in front of a bunch of little kids, but luckily for me none of them seemed to care too much. They just wanted to know about such pressing things as polar bears, squirrels, and what types of snakes I had seen. I kept my trouser snake jokes to myself and soldiered on through the books. Following the readings I was presented with more tough questions, such as, “what’s your favourite page in the book?” Difficult one to answer made even more difficult when the next kids asks, “what’s your second favourite page in the book?” Are these kids for real!? Seeing as how Dingo is such a small town and I talk with a funny accent, my readings at the school made me an instant target for the local youth, who it seems all love saying hello to me and want me to play sports with them. This inevitably led to my multiple rugby showdowns against the kids and my getting destroyed physically by a 12-year old man-child. It was worth it though, as I now know the rules to rugby and can say I would probably be competitive in an under 10s league. Then again, I would probably still suck.
Other than our weekly trips to Blackwater, Leeanna and I have only really ventured into real civilization once, and that was when we borrowed the ute for a day and drove to Rockhampton. The first thing we did when we got there, aside from notice that they had traffic lights, was head to a fast food restaurant. This was promptly followed by an afternoon spent in the massive shopping mall and a lovely dinner at a restaurant along the Fitzroy River called Cassidy’s. It was a nice change, and during our fifteen weeks in Dingo it was the only thing even remotely resembling urban life we ever saw. Our only other day trip was when Leeanna, Dan, and I went to the Blackdown Tablelands which is a national park located just outside of Dingo. It’s really a beautiful sight, if not a bit odd, as there are a bunch of mountains rising out above some of the flattest land this side of Sydney. It features some gorgeous walks and lookouts amongst the mountains and some swimming holes as well. Dan was the only one brave enough to tackle the murky waters, as Leeanna and I were content to watch him swim while we ate our crackers and imagines what was lurking beneath.
The last notable thing that comes to my mind when thinking about Dingo is what every Dingo citizen lives for, the annual “Dingo Trap-Throwing Competition and Race Day”. This was held in October and it’s the biggest event of the year in the town and draws a few hundred people out the racecourse (only time it gets used all year) for an afternoon of horse racing, beauty pageants, booze guzzling, and my personal favourite goat-cart racing. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried people. The day was a lot of good fun and was highlighted by the annual dingo trap-throwing competition, which consists of people throwing something resembling a bear-trap like it’s a discus, all in the name of a fairly healthy $500 first prize. This event is a great source of pride for the town and I’ve even heard the words “world famous” thrown around, albeit very loosely. Despite this, my favourite event was watching the little kids strapped into chariots attached to goats and race them down the track like it was the redneck Kentucky Derby. A close second would have to be the country-dance at the end of the night, which provided me with some good laughs, although at that point it may have had more to do with the 20-odd beers I had consumed during the course of the day. All in all, it was a fun day out at the country races and I must say I am disappointed that I had to work during the rodeo the other night, as I imagine that would’ve been a bucking good time. Yes, I know, worst joke ever.
And on that note, it was with only the fondest (my choice of words, not Leeanna’s) memories that her and I must vacate the green pastures of the Dingo Roadhouse for the Queensland coast. It’s been real and I must thank Kiwi Bob the manager for providing us with an excellent opportunity to save money over the last little while. And thanks to everyone who’s made our time here enjoyable/bearable, it’s been real to say the least. So with that I say to Dan, Shane, Tom, Amy, Max, Elin, Johnny, Adam, Liz, Andy, Allison, Dan II, Tony, John and anyone else I may be forgetting thanks for the memories and good luck with your future endeavours and your escape from Dingo (or settling in if that’s the kind of thing you’re into)!
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010 – At Least The Rent Was Cheap
One of the most attractive things to us about Dingo (aside from the town name) was the cost of our accommodation while employed with the roadhouse. Upon arrival, we were told that our rent would be $50 each per week. For those of you not so good with the numbers that worked out to $400 a month between the two of us, a steal of a deal no matter where you’re living. This helped greatly with the saving of travel funds, as rent was only one third of what we were paying in Melbourne and it was deducted right off of our pay cheques every week so we never really missed the money per se.
Darren, the owner of the roadhouse, has three houses that he uses for some of his workers. When we first arrived in the booming metropolis of 150 people though, his houses were all full, so for the first four weeks, Leeanna and I lived on the premises at the roadhouse in one of their motel style units. The room was like a smaller version of something you’d see at a lower-middle of the road hotel. While the room was clean and modern, with a TV and mini fridge, it was also very small, especially when there’s nowhere for you to go. Making matters worse was the fact that we were often working opposite shifts and on different sleeping schedules. But we made it through that first month and were thus moved into the “big, Queensland house” that we now call home.
When we were finally told that we would be moving into one of the houses we were more than ready to move out of the roadhouse accommodations. We moved in with an English bloke who also worked in the kitchen by the name of Dan. Dan, Leeanna, and I had become good friends while we all lived at the roadhouse, and often enjoyed such leisurely activities as tennis and drinking beer and drinking beer while playing tennis. Sadly, when we moved in, our four bedroom house was pretty short on furniture, consisting of a couple couches, an armchair, and a couple of non-functioning televisions. So like the troopers we are, we set out to round up some beds, a table, and some mismatched chairs from the roadhouse storage area. Naturally, Leeanna and I opted for two single beds, as if there’s one thing we love more than each other’s company, it’s sleeping on our own!
The last piece of the “make-it-a-home” puzzle was working out what to do on the television front. When we arrived, we were surprised to see that there were two fair size televisions in the house. Naturally, neither of them worked and we were forced to scrounge up a small 13” television from one of the other houses. In addition to this, our house had no television signal or DVD player, so being the criminal that I am, I permanently borrowed a DVD player from one of the roadhouse rooms. No one’s noticed yet. A few days later, we were blessed with good fortune for once when one of our co-workers found us a 27” TV in the electronics dump and picked it up for us for $5 after hearing about our sorry state of living. It goes without saying that since that time, we have watched an abnormal amount of DVDs and television seasons on DVD.
For the first while, there were only three of us living in the house, although we were eventually joined by a couple of young British guys, Johnny and Adam, who were big partiers. When they weren’t getting silly drunk, they were generally trying to get in the pants of these two German birds that worked at the local pub. It definitely changed the dynamic of the house, although it was not meant be, as they did not last in Dingo and headed back to Brisbane after only a few weeks.
For a while after that, there were only three of us in the house, although we’ve recently been joined by a nice Irish couple, Liz and Andy. They are definitely a lot quieter than our other housemates and are thankfully a lot tidier as well!
In addition to worrying about what kind of housemates we might end up with, a constant concern for pansies like Leeanna and I was what kind of critters would find their way into the house. We try and keep the windows closed most of the time, but things still manage to get in. We had one mouse living in our kitchen, but he eventually succumbed to peanut butter poisoning. Frogs and geckos are common intruders in the house, and I am proud to say I am turning into quite the capturer of amphibians. What we were really afraid of was cockroaches, but in the eleven weeks we’ve lived here, I have only seen one of the giant beasts. For the most part though, most of the wildlife we see has been outdoors. Dingo is overrun with cane toads and green frogs, which at night can be found everywhere patrolling the sidewalks. Leeanna had an encounter with a mob of kangaroos while she was out walking, although she became quite frightened and promptly ran away. My personal favourite sighting is when I saw a King Brown Snake, which is the second deadliest snake in the world. Luckily for the snake I was in a truck, or else I would’ve went Chuck Norris on his ass.
After all the wildlife sightings and roommates, one question remains, where’s the dingoes in Dingo?
Darren, the owner of the roadhouse, has three houses that he uses for some of his workers. When we first arrived in the booming metropolis of 150 people though, his houses were all full, so for the first four weeks, Leeanna and I lived on the premises at the roadhouse in one of their motel style units. The room was like a smaller version of something you’d see at a lower-middle of the road hotel. While the room was clean and modern, with a TV and mini fridge, it was also very small, especially when there’s nowhere for you to go. Making matters worse was the fact that we were often working opposite shifts and on different sleeping schedules. But we made it through that first month and were thus moved into the “big, Queensland house” that we now call home.
When we were finally told that we would be moving into one of the houses we were more than ready to move out of the roadhouse accommodations. We moved in with an English bloke who also worked in the kitchen by the name of Dan. Dan, Leeanna, and I had become good friends while we all lived at the roadhouse, and often enjoyed such leisurely activities as tennis and drinking beer and drinking beer while playing tennis. Sadly, when we moved in, our four bedroom house was pretty short on furniture, consisting of a couple couches, an armchair, and a couple of non-functioning televisions. So like the troopers we are, we set out to round up some beds, a table, and some mismatched chairs from the roadhouse storage area. Naturally, Leeanna and I opted for two single beds, as if there’s one thing we love more than each other’s company, it’s sleeping on our own!
The last piece of the “make-it-a-home” puzzle was working out what to do on the television front. When we arrived, we were surprised to see that there were two fair size televisions in the house. Naturally, neither of them worked and we were forced to scrounge up a small 13” television from one of the other houses. In addition to this, our house had no television signal or DVD player, so being the criminal that I am, I permanently borrowed a DVD player from one of the roadhouse rooms. No one’s noticed yet. A few days later, we were blessed with good fortune for once when one of our co-workers found us a 27” TV in the electronics dump and picked it up for us for $5 after hearing about our sorry state of living. It goes without saying that since that time, we have watched an abnormal amount of DVDs and television seasons on DVD.
For the first while, there were only three of us living in the house, although we were eventually joined by a couple of young British guys, Johnny and Adam, who were big partiers. When they weren’t getting silly drunk, they were generally trying to get in the pants of these two German birds that worked at the local pub. It definitely changed the dynamic of the house, although it was not meant be, as they did not last in Dingo and headed back to Brisbane after only a few weeks.
For a while after that, there were only three of us in the house, although we’ve recently been joined by a nice Irish couple, Liz and Andy. They are definitely a lot quieter than our other housemates and are thankfully a lot tidier as well!
In addition to worrying about what kind of housemates we might end up with, a constant concern for pansies like Leeanna and I was what kind of critters would find their way into the house. We try and keep the windows closed most of the time, but things still manage to get in. We had one mouse living in our kitchen, but he eventually succumbed to peanut butter poisoning. Frogs and geckos are common intruders in the house, and I am proud to say I am turning into quite the capturer of amphibians. What we were really afraid of was cockroaches, but in the eleven weeks we’ve lived here, I have only seen one of the giant beasts. For the most part though, most of the wildlife we see has been outdoors. Dingo is overrun with cane toads and green frogs, which at night can be found everywhere patrolling the sidewalks. Leeanna had an encounter with a mob of kangaroos while she was out walking, although she became quite frightened and promptly ran away. My personal favourite sighting is when I saw a King Brown Snake, which is the second deadliest snake in the world. Luckily for the snake I was in a truck, or else I would’ve went Chuck Norris on his ass.
After all the wildlife sightings and roommates, one question remains, where’s the dingoes in Dingo?
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010 – Just Call Me Employee Of The Year
Immediately upon our arrival at the roadhouse at 10am, Leeanna and I were given the option of starting work that day at 3:00pm. Bob, the manager, had a very strong selling point, and that is, “you’re here to make money, aren’t ya mate?” I couldn’t argue with that statement and therefore we jumped in headfirst. I was told that I would be working in the kitchen and Leeanna would be working on the counter. I almost had a heart attack when I was told this, as I can barely cook Easy Mac let alone trying to cook steaks and fish and other exotic greasy spoon cuisine. Bob reassured me that it would be easy, and it was just like working at a McDonald’s. One problem: I never worked at a McDonald’s or any fast food place for that matter! I did feel a little bit better though when we were told that we would be making $20.50/hour on weekdays and $28.50/hour on weekends, with overtime after 38 hours a week paid out at $30 and $40 respectively. Not bad for working at a gas station if I say so myself!
My first shift, everything seemed like a blur. Having never stepped foot in a kitchen before, it was all a little overwhelming. First thing I was shown is that all of our food is cooked on either a pizza oven, in a microwave, or in a deep fryer. The orders came in fast and furious, and I quickly learned that in this place cooking skills don’t mean shit! The biggest thing was knowing how to stay cool under pressure and how to multi-task and handle lots of different things at the same time. Luckily, all the guys in the kitchen were pretty decent dudes, so they were patient with me and passed on all of their roadhouse wisdom to me.
As ridiculous as it sounds, you would be surprised what you can cook in a pizza oven. We cook all of our burgers, steaks, fish, sausages, bacon, toast, eggs, lamb chops, etc through a pizza oven. It’s really quite easy and fool proof. Now I’m not gonna say we serve the greatest food in the world, but it is certainly edible and to my knowledge I haven’t killed anybody yet. When I one day have a kitchen of my own, I am now contemplating gutting the whole thing and just installing a pizza oven. When life gives you lemons, get a fuckin’ pizza oven!
On that note, the deep fat fryer seems to be a staple of every roadhouse in Australia. If you ever want to be turned off of eating greasy shit just try operating one of these for a few hours. The fryers get used to cook up a ton of gross looking shit I had never seen before that gets displayed in our “hot box” out front. The hot box is basically just a glassed in enclosure full of cheap, quick, hot food that people seem to flock to the Dingo Roadhouse for. Most of it was shit I had never heard of before such as Chicko Rolls, Corn Jacks, Kabanas, Pluto Pups, and my two personal favourites seafood sticks and crumbed sausages. It also has more traditional fare such as French fries, spring rolls, and sausage rolls. Just really nasty shit to put it bluntly. But Australians, and more specifically truckers speak with their stomachs and they say loud and clear that they love the hot box!
As the roadhouse, is a 24-hour facility, there are three different shifts that we were required to work: 7am - 3pm, 3pm – 11pm, and 11pm – 7am. The overnight shift seemed to be the favourite amongst most of the backpackers, as it was never overly busy and you got really good at making bacon and egg muffins (72 a night) and cold cut sandwiches (150 a night). So just a little FYI, if anyone back home is in need of a muffin/sandwich making man, while then I’m your guy! I worked a fairly even balance of all three different shifts, while Leeanna only worked midnights and afternoons. It has led to some really piss poor sleeping schedules, and I am currently writing this at 5am in the morning while drinking beer and eating cereal. On that note, there’s a good chance you won’t see me in a Weetabix commercial anytime soon.
While I mostly slaved away in the kitchen, Leeanna spent most of her days toiling away on the counter. It’s pretty much like working as a store clerk/cleaner/hotel receptionist/waiter all in one. I also had the privilege of being trained and working sporadically on the counter and must say it was much more enjoyable, and decidedly not as hot as the kitchen. In addition to the gross amounts of hot box food most truckers consumed, they also are apparently all big fans of the pornographic magazines. I’m pretty sure that the owner Darren would be able to put his kids through college just on his sales of magazines like Juggs, MILFs in Heat, and Black Tail! I’m sure it gets lonely camping in your trucks at night, but shit how much porno do you really need to own?
After it was all said and done though, nothing too crazy ever really happened at work. Most weeks we worked 40 hours, although some weeks we worked 48 hours and there were a couple of weeks where we only worked four days. Other than that, I did manage to burn myself a ton of times between the insanely hot oven and the deep fat fryer, with my best burn coming when I overflowed the deep fat fryer and the oil went through my shoe. It all happened so fast that I thought my foot was on fire, but I was lucky to escape with just two of the biggest burn blisters you’ve ever seen. I’m sure the customers out front thought that somebody had been shot, as I let out the loudest scream of “FUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK” you’ve ever heard. Leeanna’s main entertainment came in the form of truckers hitting on her, and she even managed to get a few invites from the boys wanting to show her their trucks. What exactly “show you my truck” means is still a very debatable point.
With only two shifts left to go in the kitchen at the roadhouse, I can look back and say that I honestly had a good time working there and was also able to save a lot of money between the semi-decent wages and the total lack of places to spend the money. Now there’s only one thing left to do with all the money…head back to the coast and pump it right back into the Australian economy!
My first shift, everything seemed like a blur. Having never stepped foot in a kitchen before, it was all a little overwhelming. First thing I was shown is that all of our food is cooked on either a pizza oven, in a microwave, or in a deep fryer. The orders came in fast and furious, and I quickly learned that in this place cooking skills don’t mean shit! The biggest thing was knowing how to stay cool under pressure and how to multi-task and handle lots of different things at the same time. Luckily, all the guys in the kitchen were pretty decent dudes, so they were patient with me and passed on all of their roadhouse wisdom to me.
As ridiculous as it sounds, you would be surprised what you can cook in a pizza oven. We cook all of our burgers, steaks, fish, sausages, bacon, toast, eggs, lamb chops, etc through a pizza oven. It’s really quite easy and fool proof. Now I’m not gonna say we serve the greatest food in the world, but it is certainly edible and to my knowledge I haven’t killed anybody yet. When I one day have a kitchen of my own, I am now contemplating gutting the whole thing and just installing a pizza oven. When life gives you lemons, get a fuckin’ pizza oven!
On that note, the deep fat fryer seems to be a staple of every roadhouse in Australia. If you ever want to be turned off of eating greasy shit just try operating one of these for a few hours. The fryers get used to cook up a ton of gross looking shit I had never seen before that gets displayed in our “hot box” out front. The hot box is basically just a glassed in enclosure full of cheap, quick, hot food that people seem to flock to the Dingo Roadhouse for. Most of it was shit I had never heard of before such as Chicko Rolls, Corn Jacks, Kabanas, Pluto Pups, and my two personal favourites seafood sticks and crumbed sausages. It also has more traditional fare such as French fries, spring rolls, and sausage rolls. Just really nasty shit to put it bluntly. But Australians, and more specifically truckers speak with their stomachs and they say loud and clear that they love the hot box!
As the roadhouse, is a 24-hour facility, there are three different shifts that we were required to work: 7am - 3pm, 3pm – 11pm, and 11pm – 7am. The overnight shift seemed to be the favourite amongst most of the backpackers, as it was never overly busy and you got really good at making bacon and egg muffins (72 a night) and cold cut sandwiches (150 a night). So just a little FYI, if anyone back home is in need of a muffin/sandwich making man, while then I’m your guy! I worked a fairly even balance of all three different shifts, while Leeanna only worked midnights and afternoons. It has led to some really piss poor sleeping schedules, and I am currently writing this at 5am in the morning while drinking beer and eating cereal. On that note, there’s a good chance you won’t see me in a Weetabix commercial anytime soon.
While I mostly slaved away in the kitchen, Leeanna spent most of her days toiling away on the counter. It’s pretty much like working as a store clerk/cleaner/hotel receptionist/waiter all in one. I also had the privilege of being trained and working sporadically on the counter and must say it was much more enjoyable, and decidedly not as hot as the kitchen. In addition to the gross amounts of hot box food most truckers consumed, they also are apparently all big fans of the pornographic magazines. I’m pretty sure that the owner Darren would be able to put his kids through college just on his sales of magazines like Juggs, MILFs in Heat, and Black Tail! I’m sure it gets lonely camping in your trucks at night, but shit how much porno do you really need to own?
After it was all said and done though, nothing too crazy ever really happened at work. Most weeks we worked 40 hours, although some weeks we worked 48 hours and there were a couple of weeks where we only worked four days. Other than that, I did manage to burn myself a ton of times between the insanely hot oven and the deep fat fryer, with my best burn coming when I overflowed the deep fat fryer and the oil went through my shoe. It all happened so fast that I thought my foot was on fire, but I was lucky to escape with just two of the biggest burn blisters you’ve ever seen. I’m sure the customers out front thought that somebody had been shot, as I let out the loudest scream of “FUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK” you’ve ever heard. Leeanna’s main entertainment came in the form of truckers hitting on her, and she even managed to get a few invites from the boys wanting to show her their trucks. What exactly “show you my truck” means is still a very debatable point.
With only two shifts left to go in the kitchen at the roadhouse, I can look back and say that I honestly had a good time working there and was also able to save a lot of money between the semi-decent wages and the total lack of places to spend the money. Now there’s only one thing left to do with all the money…head back to the coast and pump it right back into the Australian economy!
Friday, October 15, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010 – Yes, The Town Is Actually Called Dingo
After surviving my bungee jumping episode, I felt there was nothing left for me to conquer in life, except to watch a UFC pay-per view on another continent. So, that’s exactly what we did Sunday morning, as it was one of the most highly anticipated matches of the year featuring Brock Lesnar and Shane Carwin. The previous day we had seen an ad in the local paper advertising that they would be showing the fight in one of the big bars in town so we headed over. It definitely seemed a little odd watching UFC live on a Sunday morning instead of a Saturday night, but needless to say the beer still went down easy and the chicken wings were greasy! After such a strenuous morning, a nap was in order, followed by a visit to one of our new favourite Australian franchise restaurants, Fasta Pasta. The name says it all, and not only is it quick, it’s delicious!
July 5th was to be our last day on the tourist trail, as we had burned through well over $12,000 in two months on the road and it was time to get some work in. Unfortunately we had to switch rooms for our last night, as the hostel was full, so we ended up shacking up in a 3-person room with some random girl. Before we could get back to working and such though, we had some unfinished business in the form of catching up with some friends we had met up in Broome, Jamie and Hannah. We had constantly been trying to catch up with them but we always seemed to be slightly ahead of them on the tourist trail. This just led to Leeanna and Hannah (sounds like the title of a TV show), becoming texting buddies until they finally arrived in Cairns just as we were preparing to leave. In honour of our finally meeting up, we decided that one last trip to the Woolshed was in order for us. To put a long story short, many drinks were had, an ass load of stupid photos were taken, and fun was had by all involved. At some point there may have even been some dancing on tables if my foggy memory serves me correctly. Naturally this was all followed by Leeanna and I being ignorant and undoubtedly waking up the poor girl in our room who I don’t think was going to be adding us to Facebook anytime soon.
The morning of our departure we had some nasty hangovers. Fortunately, we had decided to do all of our shopping and errands the day before so we were able to recover before making our way to the bus terminal to catch the bus that would lead us to the next part of our journey…the booming town of Dingo, Queensland!
As mentioned, by the time we arrived in Cairns, money was starting to become a thing of the past. Before we had arrived there, we had decided that we would try and look for work in that area, as it was warm during the winter months and there was a big tourism industry. Shortly after arriving though, we were greeted with the cruel reality that the jobs were few and far between as apparently every backpacker in Australia has the same idea, and that is to work in Cairns during the winter months. This also led to an abundance of low wages in the area, as employers know that a lot of travellers will take any work they can find. After talking to a few people and scouring the internet, I concluded that we may have to look elsewhere for work. Although neither of us really wanted to work on a farm, this seemed to be the next logical step as it seems almost everyone who travels Australia works on a farm at some point or another. But alas it was not meant to be. After calling what seemed like every major farm in North Queensland that hires backpackers, I was told that none had work and that I was basically shit-out-of-luck. Around this time, I no doubt started to worry and thinking that I may have to succumb to male prostitution, although I’m not sure I am pretty or fit enough for this occupation anymore. Leeanna and I started talking about the possibility of moving down to Brisbane and thus started looking for jobs online down there. During this time though, I was also scouring Gumtree (Australia’s version of Craigslist) for any jobs that caught my eye. We really did not want to end up in Brisbane, as this would involve finding an apartment, etc. Then, just as I was about to commit suicide, I found a job that seemed perfect for us. It read something to the effect of: busy roadhouse in Central Queensland, looking for couple to work on counter, kitchen, cleaning, etc. I sent off our resumes to a job agency and low and behold, the next day I was talking to Bob, the general manager of the roadhouse, on the phone arranging for Leeanna and I to start working.
Once we secured the job, we arranged for a bus down to what would become our new home, or bum-fuck-nowhere as I like to affectionately call it. The bus ride was a gruelling marathon that lasted over twenty-one hours and took us about two-thirds of the way down the Queensland coast from Cairns to Rockhampton. From here, we transferred buses and travelled another 150 kilometres inland towards the coal fields of Central Queensland. The bus driver kept half-joking with us and asking us if we were REALLY SURE we wanted to get off in Dingo. We assured him that we were ready for whatever laid ahead. Or so we thought.
What awaited us when we stepped off the bus was like something from another universe. Here, seemingly in the middle of nowhere was the Dingo Roadhouse, a 24-hour service station that also acted as a 13-room hotel, restaurant, convenience store, and all around mega-truck stop. The place was insanely busy, with a combination of truckers and travellers all queuing up to spend their hard-earned money. For the life of me, I could not figure out where all of these people came from.
Over the next few blog entries, I will try to describe briefly what life has been like in the town of Dingo over the past three and a half months. As I write this, we are down to our final four days of living here, and to sum it up, it’s been an experience, one that I will not soon forget (although Leeanna says she is going to try and suppress her “Dingo” memories).
July 5th was to be our last day on the tourist trail, as we had burned through well over $12,000 in two months on the road and it was time to get some work in. Unfortunately we had to switch rooms for our last night, as the hostel was full, so we ended up shacking up in a 3-person room with some random girl. Before we could get back to working and such though, we had some unfinished business in the form of catching up with some friends we had met up in Broome, Jamie and Hannah. We had constantly been trying to catch up with them but we always seemed to be slightly ahead of them on the tourist trail. This just led to Leeanna and Hannah (sounds like the title of a TV show), becoming texting buddies until they finally arrived in Cairns just as we were preparing to leave. In honour of our finally meeting up, we decided that one last trip to the Woolshed was in order for us. To put a long story short, many drinks were had, an ass load of stupid photos were taken, and fun was had by all involved. At some point there may have even been some dancing on tables if my foggy memory serves me correctly. Naturally this was all followed by Leeanna and I being ignorant and undoubtedly waking up the poor girl in our room who I don’t think was going to be adding us to Facebook anytime soon.
The morning of our departure we had some nasty hangovers. Fortunately, we had decided to do all of our shopping and errands the day before so we were able to recover before making our way to the bus terminal to catch the bus that would lead us to the next part of our journey…the booming town of Dingo, Queensland!
As mentioned, by the time we arrived in Cairns, money was starting to become a thing of the past. Before we had arrived there, we had decided that we would try and look for work in that area, as it was warm during the winter months and there was a big tourism industry. Shortly after arriving though, we were greeted with the cruel reality that the jobs were few and far between as apparently every backpacker in Australia has the same idea, and that is to work in Cairns during the winter months. This also led to an abundance of low wages in the area, as employers know that a lot of travellers will take any work they can find. After talking to a few people and scouring the internet, I concluded that we may have to look elsewhere for work. Although neither of us really wanted to work on a farm, this seemed to be the next logical step as it seems almost everyone who travels Australia works on a farm at some point or another. But alas it was not meant to be. After calling what seemed like every major farm in North Queensland that hires backpackers, I was told that none had work and that I was basically shit-out-of-luck. Around this time, I no doubt started to worry and thinking that I may have to succumb to male prostitution, although I’m not sure I am pretty or fit enough for this occupation anymore. Leeanna and I started talking about the possibility of moving down to Brisbane and thus started looking for jobs online down there. During this time though, I was also scouring Gumtree (Australia’s version of Craigslist) for any jobs that caught my eye. We really did not want to end up in Brisbane, as this would involve finding an apartment, etc. Then, just as I was about to commit suicide, I found a job that seemed perfect for us. It read something to the effect of: busy roadhouse in Central Queensland, looking for couple to work on counter, kitchen, cleaning, etc. I sent off our resumes to a job agency and low and behold, the next day I was talking to Bob, the general manager of the roadhouse, on the phone arranging for Leeanna and I to start working.
Once we secured the job, we arranged for a bus down to what would become our new home, or bum-fuck-nowhere as I like to affectionately call it. The bus ride was a gruelling marathon that lasted over twenty-one hours and took us about two-thirds of the way down the Queensland coast from Cairns to Rockhampton. From here, we transferred buses and travelled another 150 kilometres inland towards the coal fields of Central Queensland. The bus driver kept half-joking with us and asking us if we were REALLY SURE we wanted to get off in Dingo. We assured him that we were ready for whatever laid ahead. Or so we thought.
What awaited us when we stepped off the bus was like something from another universe. Here, seemingly in the middle of nowhere was the Dingo Roadhouse, a 24-hour service station that also acted as a 13-room hotel, restaurant, convenience store, and all around mega-truck stop. The place was insanely busy, with a combination of truckers and travellers all queuing up to spend their hard-earned money. For the life of me, I could not figure out where all of these people came from.
Over the next few blog entries, I will try to describe briefly what life has been like in the town of Dingo over the past three and a half months. As I write this, we are down to our final four days of living here, and to sum it up, it’s been an experience, one that I will not soon forget (although Leeanna says she is going to try and suppress her “Dingo” memories).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
