Sydney So Far...And A Happy New Year

New Year’s Day is yet another excuse for Australians to party and by gosh don’t they party. There were party cruises overlooking the Harbour Bridge as well as all the New Year’s events hosted by the restaurants along the harbour front. The Harbour Bridge fireworks are just the cherry on a massive cake filled with lashings of sugary party goodness. Everyone was pulling out all the stops to make this one night incredible.

I was invited to a house party in an apartment block overlooking the Harbour Bridge. Perfect. There was just one snag in that glorious plan of mine. I was bloody working. I had the evening shift on New Year’s Eve and then the early morning shift on New Year’s Day. Arse.

It was an inevitability seen as I was the only temp there. My sole purpose is to work shifts nobody else wants! Yes, I could have pulled a sickie but it would have meant I’d have no job to go back to. I’ve not exactly had the best of luck when it comes to finding a job so the thought of going back to having no income again wasn’t a pleasant thought. Plus, I’m not that kind of person. I’ve never pulled a sickie in my life and I didn’t plan on starting then.

I was gutted that I didn’t get to see the main fireworks but all was not lost. My roommate was also working the evening shift which, as we work next door to each other, meant that we could salvage a night out together ourselves. Poor Steff didn’t really have a choice in the matter. He wasn’t working but obviously he wouldn’t do anything without Mel.

*****

I arrived at work with a smile on my face as usual. I never really do anything for New Year’s Day anyway. It was just another day to me. I kept repeating this to myself until the annoyance of not being able to experience any of the awesomeness listed above subsided.

Dee Why Beach was hosting their own little party and had fireworks too. I wasn’t sure whether I’d even get to see them as it all depended on whether the boss would let me stand in one place without doing anything. This is something I was rarely able to do at that point. It’s only recently that the boss has eased the torture. I only get scolded every now and then, but so does everybody else so I don’t exactly lose sleep over it. Nevertheless, it is still the one cardinal rule of waitressing – always look busy. Standing around doing nothing or chatting to other people looks bad. I’m not sure why. That thought has never crossed my mind in a restaurant. Obviously I’m more interested in my food than whether the waiting staff are cleaning menus or rearranging cutlery.

I didn’t have time to contemplate this further as the place was buzzing with customers. We were fully booked and everyone was demanding attention. Another waitress and I managed to keep everyone happy and the fireworks did the rest. People abandoned their food and flocked to the front of the restaurant. I inched forward a little…then a little more…just a little bit more. There just happened to be empty plates on the outside tables that needed clearing. I needn’t have bothered looking for an excuse. As the entire restaurant was watching the fireworks, nobody was bothered about their wine being topped up.

The fireworks were alright, nothing special. I’ve definitely seen better but it provided a nice distraction from work and meant that most customers were happy. I say most as a couple of old witches felt the need to complain at the end. At first I thought it was a general complaint and instantly thought, “Shit, what did I do?” Instead, they went on to say how they weren’t happy with where they were seated. Most people are elated when they are seated in a booth but not this group. They went on about how they are local so they should have priority seating and wanted to be closer to the fireworks. I have no idea why that would make a difference seen as everyone in the restaurant got up and walked outside to see the fireworks and had no problems in doing so. My boss handled it very well. I wanted to put that woman in her place, simply for making a stupid complaint after we all worked so hard. It’s flipping New Year’s, have a heart lady!

We were packed up and ready to leave at 10pm which was a miracle in itself. You always get hangers on but I guess everyone had other parties to go to and left in good time. I grabbed my things and went next door to find my roommates. They were already dressed up and looked lovely. I nipped to the ladies and got changed. My wardrobe was still limited at this point so I wore the same dress that I had on for Christmas Day. I didn’t stand out too much as nobody went overboard on their outfits.

I hung out with my roommates until the restaurant closed. It felt like we were having a lock-in as all the staff went from formal and stiff waiters/waitresses to party-people. So much so, that people on the street naturally assumed we were still open and kept trying to come in. Some were friendlier about their rebuttal than others.

We had champagne and wine on the house. There was even pizza. I got to meet a lot of my roommate’s work colleagues and everyone was really friendly and chatty. Management mingled with staff and everything was very laid back. Time flew by and before we knew it, everyone was counting down to midnight. The big screen TV was switched on to a channel showing live coverage of the Harbour Bridge celebrations. We got to see the fireworks after all.

The clock struck midnight and I became embroiled in an orgy of hugs, kisses and elated cries of “Happy New Year!”. Nobody knew who I was and nobody cared. I even got a hug from one of the restaurant owners. There was a lot of love in the room.

So...it’s New Year’s Day, what do we do now? We wandered the streets for inspiration and one guy suggested going to the beach. Not too original seen as we work across from the thing. Instead of resting on the sand, we sat by the sea-water pool. The guy who was behind the idea stripped naked and went for a swim, like you do! The water must have been ice cold!

By this point I was drunk. I was unbelievably drunk. I’d not had anything to eat since lunchtime and I never get staff meals when I work an evening shift so all that was lining my stomach was a few slices of Italian-style pizza. I got a little too carried away with the free wine and my body wasn’t used to it. I’d not had this much to drink since my leaving parties!

Oh dear. To paint a clearer picture for you, I ask you to click on the following link - HIMYM. Oh no, it’s not a drunken video of me. It’s a joke on how different types of alcohol have different effects on people. The exact same thing could be said for me. If I’m on shots, I get cocky. If I’m on beer, I get giddy. If I’m on cocktails I also get giddy but too many of them and I get loud and I loooooove to dance. Wine…I should never drink wine. I usually drink it before a night out when I know everyone is going to be drunk. The above probably insinuates that I am a heavy drinker. I’m not. I’m a lightweight, therefore I tend to stay away from the stuff for everyone else's safety as well as my own.

So wine basically knocks me out. I'm all of the above amped up to 11...Eeek! this story doesn't get any better I'm afraid! As well as loud and dancey and mouthy...I also get my flirt on. I've never been confident with guys and, although I've found it easy making a heck of a lot of good male friends, I'm useless when it comes to putting the moves on someone. Just saying, "putting the moves on someone" makes me laugh. Cheese. Get a few wines down me and I'm sitting on their lap feeding them ice cream (true story, but not this night), joking that they're too weak to be able to life me up and so on and so forth. Not good.

Do you remember the guy that stripped naked and swam in the sea-water pool? He was the only guy that I really knew at the party so I mainly spoke to him. We indulged in a bit of mindless flirty banter but nothing crude or too naughty. I mean, I barely know the guy! The thing is, I was off my rocker on wine and my head was spinning…

My version of events: I was enjoying a bit of harmless banter with my roommate’s work friend. I didn’t see anything wrong in that. Everyone seemed to be whispering about me and my roommate told me that people think that something’s going on. Ridiculous, I’m just talking to the guy. I don’t know anyone else. Plus, he has a GIRLFRIEND. I’m not THAT kind of girl. I hit boiling point when my roommate told me to stop being so loud and that everyone thinks that me and this guy are hooking up. I walked off. I wanted to go home to bed where it was safe and sleep this night off. I knew I’d had too much to drink and I hated the fact that I was making a complete arse of myself in front of strangers. My roommates came looking for me and we went to get the bus back to the hostel with this guy in tow. Why is he coming with us? I didn’t think much more of it until he followed us back to our room. Why is he still here? I just wanted to sleep so got into bed. The guy joined me but in my wine-haze I lay defeated and thought, I just want to sleep. We ended up kissing and he wanted more. I said back off and rolled over and fell asleep. I got up a couple of hours later for work and he was gone. Maybe it was a dream. I went to work and thought nothing more of it.

The version of events that my roommate told me the next day: I had too much wine to drink but everyone else was rather merry too so it didn’t really matter. My roommate tried to warn me that people think this guy and I are hooking up and I shrugged it off. My roommate tried to warn me again once my voice went from normal to shout mode but I ignored her and stormed off. Right before this happened, the guy said he had nowhere to stay that night and I said that he could crash at the hostel as people do that all the time. I basically announced to everyone that this guy was coming back to the hostel with me. Oh dear, oh dear. He thought he was getting lucky but I just wanted to go to sleep. He tried it on with me but failed. As we all went to sleep, the guy got up and went to the toilet, locking him out in the process. He couldn’t remember which room we were in so started banging on other people’s doors. Someone made the unfortunate choice of letting him in. He then proceeded to piss all over the room and got himself chucked out. Management were not happy and saw on the CCTV that he was with us. They too thought that I brought a random guy back to the hostel to get with. Shit.

Messy, messy night. I just got incredibly drunk and had no idea what was going on. This lead to a guy thinking he got lucky despite having a girlfriend and us nearly getting kicked out of the hostel. A grovelling apology from me and a $300-or-so fee in damages paid by the guy later, and I was ready to forget the whole thing. I can’t even say. “What was I thinking?” because I clearly wasn’t. I knew this guy had a girlfriend and that nothing would ever happen. I was just bantering like I do with most guys. I didn’t say anything outrageous. We were just generally chatting for the most part. Obviously my declaration that he could stay at the hostel set off the chimes in his head that he was about to get some but I probably thought he’d just crash on the balcony. I say probably as I literally don’t even remember saying it!

I did feel terrible for a couple of weeks about what happened but I eventually stopped kicking myself. If I’d done the same thing and was sober, then yes, I’m a boyfriend-stealer. But I was as high as a kite and I certainly don’t have any feelings for this guy. We all make mistakes and I’m sure there are plenty of people who can recall a time where they kissed the wrong person. It happens.

I can promise you this though, that is definitely the last of the guy stories in Australia. Thank heavens for that!

Sydney So Far...Merry Christmas...

Where is Christmas? I couldn’t find it anywhere in Sydney. I had to look hard but I did find it eventually. The Northern Beaches was the antithesis of Singapore which was doused in Christmas decorations. One shopping centre looked like Santa had threw up on it. Kuala Lumpur start their celebrations in early November! Even in the UK, the supermarkets and retail outlets jump on Christmas, putting out crackers and mince pies in September and playing Christmas songs in November. I didn’t hear my first Christmas song until the middle of December and I almost escaped the warbling’s of Mariah Carey. Unfortunately, where I work we had Mariah’s Christmas albums – oh yes, she has more than one!

As annoying as these characteristics are, they all act as triggers to getting excited about Christmas. You all know it’s coming when Coca Cola tells you so! The surrounding areas on the Northern Beaches lay bare. There were no decorations, no lights or banners. There were no screaming brats nagging for presents or drunken people playing dress up. I saw a flicker of Christmas cheer in the drivers who attached red noses and antlers to their cars. It was sweet. But that was it. Everyone seemed so calm. Where are all the Christmas nut jobs?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly Little Miss Christmas, but it just surprised me. I guess it helped slightly as I thought I’d start missing home more around this time of the year. I didn’t have my mum acting all grouchy when my Dad jokingly claimed that he would put up the decorations on 1^st December. I wouldn’t get to see my mum’s face when she came home from work after my Dad put up the decorations without her knowledge! I wouldn’t get to eat all the candy canes off of the Christmas tree. Heck, I wouldn’t have a Christmas tree, not in the family sense anyway.

*Cue the violins*

I did feel a little twang when I served people at work who were meeting to swap Christmas presents. I wasn’t even going to get a present and I was stuck in the cave for Christmas.
I soon skipped to my happy place when a surprise parcel arrived from my parents. It included a card with photos - a happy photo of my Dad and a bah-humbug one of my Mum. I also received tinsel, candy canes and a selection box. I was so happy. I pinned my card up on my cupboard and devoured my treats in good time. I also received a card from another friend in time for Christmas. I also received two others in January but it still meant just as much to me. I love receiving correspondence from friends in any format.

Although I had my doubts, I had a bleedin’ fantastic Christmas so up yours Sydney with your dreariness.

Mel and Steff said they would like to buy me something for Christmas and of course I said I’d return the favour. Hooray, I’d have something to open on Christmas Day. I think we were all clinging on to each other to make it through Christmas as we’d all be missing home.

We also naively volunteered to host the Christmas Party thinking it’d be a nice distraction and a juicy monetary bonus. Oh ho ho ho (ahem…sorry), how wrong we were.

In the lead up to the big day, we had a few brief discussions regarding the food we’d buy, how the day would unfold and what activities we could include. As we’d never done anything like this before we had no idea what our budget would be or what to price our tickets as.

Annoyingly, each time a meeting was organised with the manager, I was working. This meant it looked like I was doing bugger all and sailing by on the efforts of my roommates.

The speed in which Christmas Day arrived shocked us all. It didn’t help that two weeks before Christmas Day we found a flyer for the Sunburnt party on Bondi Beach. The majority of people staying in this hostel were party hard think later types. Shit. We soon realised that our Christmas party wasn’t going to simply sell itself. We had to get on it!

We originally planned to lay out a Christmas buffet – a staple in many British households at Christmas – but this worked out more expensive and would likely lead to arguments. As in, we’d get the greedy bastards piling their plates high leaving us high and dry with only a mangled sausage roll and pasta salad to serve to people who had queued 20 minutes.

Mel discussed our dilemma with her manager at work and came up with the idea of serving a traditional Christmas dinner (in the British sense of course).  It would mean that everyone would know what they were getting and would make things a heck of a lot simpler.

After a mad shopping spree, we sold the following for $30 AKA 20 squids:

A three course meal with a choice of turkey or ham. Chocolate cake and mixed berries for dessert.
Glass of champagne on arrival.
Unlimited cordial.
Christmas cracker.

What we didn’t anticipate was the sniffy reaction from the hostel occupants. All they saw was the price tag and obviously thought that we’d bought in cheap ready meals and charged “a fortune” to rake in money. Idiots. We didn’t cut any corners and it was a shame that people didn’t see this.

When it came to the last minute hard sell, one guy told me him and his mates were going to have a barbeque on the beach as you can get Christmas dinner at home every year and they wanted to do something different. Oh dear. I’ve had countless barbeques here, it’s nothing new just because it’s on Christmas Day. Mel, Steff and I wanted to bring a bit of home to people as a form of comfort. Obviously people will be feeling homesick so why not get the best of both worlds – a Christmas Dinner topped off with a visit to the beach! We were fighting a losing battle.

Another knock down came in the form of a backpacker, who was actually meant to be a friend of Mel and Steff’s, who was stirring up trouble. A lot of people said they were going to buy their own stuff and cook in the kitchen then join in the party and the “free stuff” later. We didn’t anticipate anyone would gatecrash a flipping Christmas party! We were devastated by the betrayal and were stressing at the thought of us three vs. the 200+ occupants. We tried our best to put that thought to the back of our minds and plough on.

The night before Christmas, Mel was working so it was left to Steff and I to prep the food for the next day. Not a problem we thought. Ha! Thankfully Mel’s work chopped and roasted a mountain of potatoes for us. We only had one oven, which is located in the night manager’s housing. We’d be there for a week cooking all those potatoes!

All we had to prep was the meat. We spent all afternoon and evening carving the heffers! Steff and I saw light of the situation as I pressed all my weight on one end of the pig whilst Steff carved away with a bread knife. Deary me! The turkey started to cook but we panicked when we opened the oven to see the skin started to crisp and burn slightly before the rest of it was cooked. All I had were visions of our turkey ending up like the one in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation! I grabbed my phone to ring my mum only to realise it’d be the early hours in the UK. Damn the stupid 11 hour time difference. To Google! We wrapped the turkey in foil and every now and then doused it in the juices that had built up. Steff was already plotting how he’d use the bones and juices to make proper gravy.

Once all the meat had been prepped I fretted about the next day. We would have to keep everything piping hot which seemed an impossible task. Nobody wants a cold Christmas dinner. What if we create a hate mob and they chase us out of the hostel? In the end we only managed to sell 30 or so tickets which meant we didn’t break even with the money the hostel spent purchasing the food (we originally catered for 80 people!). We didn’t have to pay the difference thankfully! Even though we’d not made any money and weren’t sure if we would get a night’s stay credit, we just wanted everyone to be happy. Perhaps our nobility might not look believable but it’s genuinely what we wanted. There are some people staying alone in the hostel without many friends around them so we wanted to create a warmth and familiarity for them. If we didn’t do this, they would have just sat in their room or gone to the beach and did nothing. We crossed our fingers for a hassle free day.

***** 

Christmas morning arrived. We got up early as we needed to be in the kitchen for 10am to cordon off the kitchen and start organising the food. People ignored our request and cooked their breakfasts and early Christmas meals. None of us were up for any arguments on Christmas Day so we just announced that we’d need the kitchen an hour or so later. Nobody cared.

We went back to the room and organised our Christmas presents into piles. Normally at home my Dad is chief present handler and ensures that each person has a present to open at the same time as everyone else. My mum isn’t arsed and just hands presents out willy nilly and we just open them. I was too excited to see Steff and Mel’s reactions when they saw what I’d got them so we didn’t really have an order to proceedings. I got Mel the pink fluffy dressing gown she desperately wanted (it was a battle making sure she didn’t buy it beforehand!). I also got Mel a pink diary, a pink pen and a pink wash bag. A few days previously Mel and I were in the shop where I got the wash bag and dressing gown from. When I abruptly told Mel that she doesn’t need a dressing gown as it’s Australia not Antarctica, I also had to tell Mel that I won’t purchase the wash bag reduced to $5 with my purchase as she’s already got a wash bag. I had to be a moody cow to one of my closest friends. I knew she’d understand – cue laughter and shouting when Mel opened her presents.

I got Steff some Joop! man perfume which I liked the smell of and hoped he did too! I also got him a white mouse which he really wanted for his laptop. Mel was ecstatic with her building mountain of pink related presents and Steff got everything that he wanted from Mel and I.

I received a portable speaker for my ipod shuffles and netbook. I kept hijacking Steff’s bomb he got free with his phone. I thought it was actually called a music bomb but I don’t think it is. I always wondered why Steff gave me odd looks when I asked if I could use his bomb. I received a pen light to use in my future travels as well as some cute bed shorts.

We all had massive grins on our faces. In our giddy excitement we all pulled crackers.

Sidenote: I still can’t get over Steff’s suggestion that we only buy half the amount of crackers as it takes two people to pull a cracker. As we all burst out laughing, Steff stood there with a serious look on his face and still didn’t understand the absurdity of what he just said.

We read out our cheesy-rubbish jokes, glanced at the naff “prize” and donned the party hats. Mel ignored the fact that it was boiling hot and wrapped her pink dressing gown around her. Party hats in tow, we made our way to the kitchen. We were all smiles and laughter, then realised how ridiculous we must have looked. Wait. We told everyone that they had to leave the kitchen in 15 minutes as we needed it for the party and started to set up the dining area. Then we realised how ridiculous we must have looked. Meh.

When asked what we’d done that morning, we received shocked responses when we told people we had bought each other presents. Nobody else we spoke to had done that. Whoops.  We subsequently toned down the happiness from the presents we received.

As the majority of the hostel occupants weren’t taking part in our party, it proved ever more difficult cordoning off the common room. We moved tables to lead a path in and out of the kitchen and on the other side to the pool and BBQ area but people swanned through without a care. We even put up massive signs saying no entry to no avail.

After a bit of sweat – more so for Mel in her dressing gown – and determination…well it was a hassle fending off the area…we managed to create a nice Christmassy vibe.

Steff was the chef for the day and spent most of lunchtime holed up in the kitchen creating his signature gravy and making the final preparations for the meals. Mel and I rolled our eyes as all he kept banging on about was his gravy. We left Gordon Ramsey to it – not too much of a deviation as Steff does flip his lid in the kitchen when you try to help.

Mel and I went off to get changed. Steff had bought Mel a beautiful dress.

Where's my dress Steff?

I threw on a dress I bought in Thailand and hoped I didn’t look too hobo-ish stood next to Mel with her immaculate make-up and voluminous hair. I needn't have worried as I was one of only a few who dressed up for the party! I guess it's another thing that was drilled into me by my parents. As much as I wanted to sit around in my pyjamas and play with my toys all day, my mum told me to get up them stairs and change into something nice for dinner!

*****

It was time. More and more people started to arrive. I placed down a bread roll for everyone – bought in fresh from the bakery next door don’t you know! Phew, well that was easy.

People were flipping hungry and devoured their rolls within seconds. Shit. Now comes the hard part. Although the food was awesome – we bought the best meat, had professionally cooked potatoes, Steff’s signature gravy with the standard stuffing and mixed veg staples – keeping it piping hot was a pain in the arse. There was no oven in the kitchen and there was only me and Mel to hand out dishes to 30-odd people. This isn’t going to work and we knew it. We just hoped people were in the Christmas spirit and forgot about all that. Ok, we gave everyone extra glasses of champagne and hoped the bubbles made the eventuality all hazy.

Mel and I did our best to hand out all the dishes as well as serve gravy and cranberry sauce (which I ran out and bought when a hosteller requested it the night before. Oops!). We had a little help from one of Mel’s friends which was nice. We told her we couldn’t pay her, which was true, and she still helped. We had a few arsey people which disappointed us. I also had a bit of a mishap with the first round of gravy. We had Steff’s concoction and normal granule gravy. Unbeknownst to me, this had lumped together. I went to pour some on a girl’s plate and a huge dollop plopped down. I stifled a snigger and she mumbled something German. Argh! I ran back into the kitchen and got Steff’s gravy and used that for everyone else.

Once everyone had dishes in front of them we hid in the kitchen and made preparations for dessert. We didn’t have time to sit down and eat anything. We wanted to make sure that people were happy before we helped ourselves. One woman brought her food in and slammed it in the microwave. Shit.

We cleared everyone’s dishes. Some dishes were fuller than others but I’d eat a cold soup if I was hungry so didn’t judge people’s reactions on what was left on the plates. We scurried away back into the kitchen and waited for the food to settle.

Mel and I had a sneaky nibble of some of the cake. It was good. You can’t go wrong with chocolate cake! We handed that out with ease and poured cream for those who wanted it. Again, we hid in the kitchen. Mel and Steff plated some food up but I couldn’t stomach it. I ate a little bit but wasn’t that hungry. Sometimes when you make a huge meal, at the end you don’t really want to eat it. I’ve spoken to a few people in the past about this and they agreed with me so I know it’s not as weird as it sounds!

Cake on the other hand…well, you know me. As we had plenty left over we topped up people’s glasses and offered out more cake. We had enough berries left for me, Mel and Steff but before we could get some, a backpacker grabbed the bowl and poured the lot on his plate. Greedy little bast…no, it’s Christmas, I’m not getting angry on Christmas. I still hate backpackers. So we ate our cakes plain but still enjoyed the chocolatey goodness.

We started to clear things away when the guy who bad-mouthed our party* stood up and gave a speech about how well we’d done and how thankful he was. Everyone whooped and hollered in agreement. We were flabbergasted. One sweet old man said it was the best Christmas he’d ever had which was endearing but sad to hear at the same time.

Everyone was happy which made us even happier. Now, for the clear up. Luckily, everyone was fine with going off for a rest and wasn’t hanging on our every word as to what will happen next. We packed everything away and moved back all the tables. We were knackered.

We decided to go to the beach for a little while and had a few drinks. When we returned we set up the surf simulator for everyone, not just the party-goers, to have a try at. One family who attended the party each had a go, even the dad! It was hilarious. I had a go but I was wearing a dress so it ended badly.

 Of course I don’t have a photo of me falling off. Don’t be silly!

Soon enough it was getting late and we packed it up and relaxed with others in the common room. We got out a couple of packs of cards for people to play with. There was only one thing for it…Ring Of Fire anyone?

I started to feel a little light-headed and merry from the drinks and lack of food. With only the sugar remnants from two pieces of chocolate cake lining my stomach, my head was floating on a sugar and alcohol induced high.

That feeling was soon shattered when those around me spoiled Ring Of Fire. It’s fine when everyone just goes along with it but too many people were asking questions, nobody followed the rules and the group didn’t quite fit together personality-wise. It was a shame. I soon packed it in and went back to the room. Mel and Steff stayed for a bit longer but too grew bored of everyone.

We each collapsed into bed with smiles still pinned to our faces. Despite the chaos, we had a very good day. I drifted off to sleep happy with my Christmas spent away from home. Mel and Steff are like family to me so it didn’t feel like a non-Christmas, more of an alternative Christmas. Like Christmas spent at your Aunties. It’s different surroundings but you still have the same crazy surroundings and food-a-plenty. A hostel Christmas wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Who knew eh? Oh and I almost forgot, Steff's gravy was actually worth the hype after all!

* we told him how we felt about the situation calmly. He had no idea what he’d done and was shamed into attending the Christmas Party. Well that’s what he told us. In reality the manager gave him the choice of attending or leaving the hostel as he was on his last warning already.

Sydney So Far...Guys

The one thing I have learnt whilst travelling is that backpackers are randy little devils. I use that in a general sense as I’ve seen guys as well as girls putting themselves out there if you get what I mean. Who can blame them? If you are safe, there are no consequences. Nobody at home knows exactly what you’re getting up to so your reputation is intact and moving from place to place ensures that any drama that could be created is left at the side of the road by the airport. What’s not to like about that?

Hold your horses, I’m not talking about me. It would be easy to get caught up in that world and I’m not denying I’ve had fun (mum if you’re reading this, I’m saving myself for my wedding night), but there’s fun and there’s leaving your dignity, morals and knickers in your locker whilst you dive into the queue of rampant guys waiting in the nearest bar. Hey, if that’s what makes you happy then so be it!

As it seems like every male backpacker has bathed in a bath tub of sex panther before they arrived at their intended destination, I have experienced an increase in male attention. Something which surprises me as I only seemed to get advances from the drooling drunken perv at the corner of the dance floor back home. The guys on my travels that showed an interest had all their teeth and looked human. Shocking, well that was until I noticed the above and realised that most male backpackers will take a sock-puppet with all the right parts home if it showed an interest. Oh dear...

Readers might have noticed that around 90% of the friends I have made on my travels have been male. Not all of them showed an interest in me. That would be insane. I have been very lucky in that I have met some great guys who don’t flinch at my friendliness nor do they interpret it as my signal of undying love for them. How refreshing.

But Australia wouldn’t be complete without a tale or two about the random actions of the male population. If only they knew I was writing a blog. For my own safety, I won’t use their names.

*****

Guy #1 had joked a couple of times about liking me to my roommate but I just laughed it off, especially as he’s old enough to be my father. I made the mistake of turning it into a joke and wound him up a little bit. He blushed and didn’t know what to say. I thought no more of it.

Several hours and a copious amount of alcohol units consumed (on his part) later, Guy #1 knocked on my door and told me he genuinely liked me and walked off. I didn’t have chance to pick my jaw up off the floor and reply to his declaration.

I soon forgot about it and put it down to the booze. As I was alone in the room I comfortably stripped off and picked up my shower things. I chose to use the towel that the hostel provided me. I would hardly call it a towel though, more like an over-sized flannel. I’d say I’m pretty average sized yet the towel would only fit round my first love handle. By the time the ends met at the other side, practically everything was on show. I somehow manoeuvred the towel so it covered the essentials – there are kids running round this place. That kind of sight would scar a child for life!

I peered out my room and looked left and then up the corridor. Both routes were clear. I hovered for 30 seconds to be on the safe side and still nothing. I tip-toed towards the bathroom whilst clinging on to the flannel for dear life. What I wouldn’t give for a large fluffy white towel. Phew, I made it.

Shower over, I slipped my flannel back on. It seemed the heat of the water had shrunk me slightly as I felt a bit more give when I wrapped it around my body once more. Either that or I stretched it.

I managed to make it back to my room without being seen. It’s a terribly awkward moment meeting a guy in the corridor whilst dressed in a towel of any size.

With the room still to myself, I dried myself off and dropped my towel and had a good sing-song.

BANG BANG

What the fudge? I squealed and grabbed the flannel. I assumed it was Steff as he always forgets his card. Just to be on the safe side I opened the door a crack. In peered Guy #1.

“I’ve just got out of the shower. What’s up?” I said impatiently in the hope that he’d sense the tone and skiddadle. Unfortunately that didn’t happen. He didn’t respond and just leered.

Me: “Guy #1, I’m not dressed and this towel is shit. What do you want?”
Guy #1: “Give us a peek, I don’t mind.”
I had no words for that and replied with a look of disgust and confusion.
Guy #1 – “I just wanted to let you know that I’m a shy guy but I like you. All you need to do is give me the word and I’m here if you want me.”

Oh. Dear. Lord.

‘Right, thanks.” I closed the door on him. I cringed and felt sick. He’s not going to remember that when he’s sober. That’s what I kept telling myself anyway. It’s true, he didn’t remember but felt the awkwardness instantly. Strange man.

*****

Guy #2, AKA The Starer, was indeed the creepiest of the weird. It honestly felt like he was trying to send telepathic thoughts into my brain, he stared at me that intensely. He’s not the first guy I have met who does this. I don’t get it. It’s hardly alluring.

Anyhow, I thankfully didn’t have any moments as awkward as the above with this guy but he sure did try. I didn’t really get on with him which didn’t help. Our personalities clashed and I always had the overriding feeling that I had to punch him in the face. It’s a rare trait that does bring out the mostly dormant violent side in me. In my lifetime I can only recall two people that conjured up those feelings. As I don’t have a criminal record for assault and battery, you can assume correctly that I used all my efforts to avoid these people. I tried the same with this guy but it wasn’t easy.

Guy #2 always found me and tried any excuse to come to my room. I was so rude to him. I didn’t speak to him or make eye contact and gave one word answers if he tried to talk to me. I used distraction tools like my laptop or just leaving the room entirely. He just didn’t get the hint. I did cave in when he asked me to rub suntan lotion into his back. This guy has hygiene issues. I couldn’t even dry-heave as there was a mirror facing us! Never again!

One time when a group of us were eating, they each complimented him on his apparent weight loss. He then turned and looked at me, expecting something just as fake and over-enthusiastic. Well I’m the wrong person for that! Instead, I shoved a bundle of chips in my mouth and looked away. That was the day I learnt that food has another use other than to satisfy.

Soon enough, he found new prey and I was off the hook. Phew!

*****

As my normal hideouts are either my room or the beach, I’ve not had any other encounters with guys at the hostel. The above experiences happened early on in my stay and put me off venturing out too far.

However, not all my experiences have been negative. I have been a subject to the Aussie charm and I don’t mean the brash heckles on the street. The statements, “Do you want to see some action?” and “I know a way to keep you awake” didn’t quite have me weak at the knees.

Guy #3 – The Aussie – kind of threw me off balance slightly. I’ve seen and heard many stories about people visiting Australia, finding love and never looking back. It’s not something I anticipated would happen to me especially as I’m so driven towards seeing the rest of the world. I stop for no man! Perhaps my stubbornness interfered in the events surrounding The Aussie or maybe it was just never meant to be…

It was just another standard day at work – quiet but steady. I served a table of three guys who certainly made my life that much more difficult with their crazy order (I won’t bore you with the details). Beers were a-flowing which meant I visited the table a few times. Banter ensued and one guy told me his mate liked me and can he have my number. His friend was speechless. If he protested too much I could take offence, if he didn’t protest at all it might look weird. Either way, his mate dropped him in it. I laughed it off as a joke and the conversation moved on.

We spoke about my travels and they bombarded me with information and places to go. There was no way that I’d remember it all. Two of the three guys had girlfriends and they arrived soon after. They didn’t make it easy for me to work. As it was so quiet there wasn’t that much to do. So instead, all I could concentrate on was the fact that these two women were staring at me and whispering things to the guys. Great, thanks!

After they all ate, they invited me out for drinks later after hearing that I haven’t met any nice Aussies yet and friends were running thin on the ground. I gave The Aussie my number and awaited a text.

It’s not something I would have done back in England. As a waitress, guys get carried away and it’s not the first time someone’s asked for my number. But I was bored, had no friends in Oz and they were all easy-going.

I received a text quite late in the night to say that they were in the city. Unfortunately that was too far out for me. By the time I got to the city, I’d have to come back again. I also had an early start the next day so gave it a miss.

I was a bit disappointed but soon after, The Aussie text me about another evening out. He was a bit vague as to who was coming out and I wasn’t sure if it was a date or not. I just decided to go with it and see what happened.

It happened to be one of the best nights I’ve had in Sydney. We met up – it turned out to be just me and him at the beginning – and had a wonderful Thai dinner. He paid, which screams date! Conversation flowed nicely and he made me laugh.

He drove us into the city to meet some of his friends. He told me he had double-booked and wondered if I minded staying out for drinks with his friends. At this point I’d not seen much of the city and who better to show me round than a local!

The drive down wasn’t awkward either. We spoke in depth about a lot of things, mainly my trip. The conversation drifted on to film – “mainstream or arthouse?” – The Aussie asked. Well he seemed to know a bit more than most just from that statement. He then asked me if I’d seen Stranger Than Fiction which just happens to be one of my favourite films. He knew my favourite scene…it was a freaky moment, one of many that night.

If I was to write a list of things that I would like a guy to encompass, he fit the bill. Active and sporty, check. He rock climbs, goes on hikes, swims and so on and so forth. Good sense of humour, preferably cheeky and a little naughty, check. Confident but not cocky, check. Gentlemanly, check. It goes on. He was the perfect guy. He volunteers for St John’s Ambulance and he’s trained in sports and therapeutic massage.

The thing is…there was no spark. Nothing. Zilch. Nadda. Non. Arse. I didn’t get any butterflies and there were plenty of moments when there should have been. He said some lovely things to me and I felt nothing. I must be dead inside.

It’s not that I’ve been sat pining away for a guy to sweep me off my feet, but it is a fairy tale that all girls think of thanks to films and TV. Here is my knight in shining armour and I’m just a cold fish flailing about on the harbour.

Like I said, we had a wonderful night. We walked along the harbour and stopped off to meet his friends at the Opera Bar. They had scored great seats with a perfect view of the Opera House, the Harbour Bridge and the live acoustic band. The music was incredible and the atmosphere was bubbling. Not only that, but someone ordered onion rings and chips and dip for the table. Oh nom nom, yes!

The night ended too soon as I headed back to the cave. The Aussie was a perfect gentleman and didn’t put any moves on me. We left it at that. I thought I’d made a firm friendship but he wanted more. We planned on going to the cinema but he made it clear that he really liked me and I panicked. I didn’t want to lead him on and I didn’t want to be with him just because I knew he liked me. I wanted to be sure first.

After a couple of days thinking I got my answer. The Aussie came into work to surprise me and rather than feel all a-flutter I felt a weird jolting feeling in my stomach. It wasn’t a nice feeling. I decided to text him and let him know how I felt. I wasn’t expecting anything back but a couple of days later he text me to say just-friends is fine.

Four cancelled plans later (two cancellations each), we were doomed and haven't met since.

I have no regrets. As brilliant as the night was, I didn’t get that spark and that’s what counts. I’m only in Australia temporarily and I came here with no intentions of starting something up with someone. If that were to happen it would, not only spoil my future travel plans, but negate all the reasons behind my trip. I’m choosing to be selfish and pick me and my trip over guys. I want a year full of adventure not boy drama!

Sydney So Far...People

I’ve never been a fan of small talk. It’s inane and unoriginal. Granted, sometimes it’s an ice-breaker or a way in to starting a more interesting conversation. Heck, sometimes it’s just nice to fill in an uncomfortable silence. But it always comes across as so fake to me. I play along though. I’m not that much of a miserable sad-sack!

During my stay in Australia, I’ve learnt two things about small talk here. Everyone still talks about the weather, that’s not a Briticism. Secondly, an extension to that is how the weather relates to the surf. I’m no surf girl so I end up doing the nod-and-smile trick or simply just agree with everything they say. I have no idea what good surfing conditions are. Aussies are mad bastards. They go out surfing come rain or shine. For that reason, I can’t use that to gauge how good the surf is. Sometimes it’s blazing sunshine and someone will say the surf is bad today. I feel obligated to say something in return…”Yeah…that surf ey? Terrible…tsk” One couple even asked me whether the surf was good one day as they wanted to go out for a swim. I just made something up but felt terrible when they decided not to go out.

One guy asked me if I liked Freshwater. I thought he meant fresh water, which at the time sounded like a strange question. I just said, “Yeah, it’s great,” still thinking he meant Evian or something. He then went on to describe the beach, the view and, of course, the surf. Ooooh, there’s a place called Freshwater. Well at least my enthusiasm for fresh water still translated to enthusiasm for a beach. They do have odd names for places here – Curl Curl, Wee Waa, Woolloomooloo. Oh dear. So I have to be a bit more aware of what I’m saying as I could be nodding and agreeing to anything!

I will eat my words slightly as I do like bantering with customers. It’s always been my favourite part of a job that involves front-of-house work. We get a lot of regulars that come into where I work and they’re all lovely. There’s a retired Aussie couple who come in and they must be the happiest people in Australia. They’re like a beam of sunshine when they walk in. They are always smiling and have the most fascinating stories.

Although I have spoken to a lot of Aussies through work and other social situations, I haven’t really made that many Aussie friends. So far, with what I have witnessed on the Northern Beaches (Sydney), that’s a good thing. However, it would be nice to make a few friends locally before I leave.

The one thing I do like about Aussies is how abrupt they are. Aussies don’t sugar coat their words. It makes things a lot easier in life when you know exactly what someone thinks. There are no significant anecdotes which stand out at the moment so I’ll come back to this in a future post as I’m sure I will have plenty of fodder once I start travelling.

I have definitely gone for quality over quantity when it comes to Aussie friends. I’ve become quite close to one girl who I work with which is a miracle as the rest hate me or don’t really talk to me that much! Most times when I leave work and say goodbye, I get silence back. It’s a bit disheartening!

Georgia has done plenty of travelling herself and is very level headed for her young age (19). As Georgia is an aspiring actress, we have the love of films in common. Our hatred for idiot customers and the spoilt self-obsessed demeanour of the youth within the Northern Beaches are other views we share. To know that I’m not alone in my observations and for the fact that an AUSSIE agrees with me, makes me feel better. Rather than be offended by their ways or turn into a self-conscious paranoid ball of mess, I choose to look for the funnies. It gets me through the day.

The other Aussie is a recent acquirement. He’s the boyfriend of a friend…shush, it still counts. He was absolutely lovely when I visited them both and stayed the night. He even offered out a couch/room at his parent’s place further north up the east coast for when I move on from Sydney!

My collection is growing and I’m determined to find more nice Aussies. I’d like nothing more than to be convinced that Australia is the happy-go-lucky laid back country that was previously promised to me. People do ask me if the UK thinks that Australia is like Neighbours, which it obviously isn’t. This made me wonder whether Aussies think that Yorkshire is like Coronation Street or, heaven forbid, Hollyoaks! I don’t think they get those soaps here anyway. Phew!

It’s not been that easy making friends with backpackers or other expats either which I half expected. Now I have firm friends in roommates Mel and Steff, I feared I might end up hanging out with them and not really trying to make friends with anyone else. Another element is the fact that now I’m stationary and working, I have slowed down a lot and don’t have the impetus of not having much time on my side. For instance, I’m still in touch with Rich who I met and spoke to for a couple of hours one night in Singapore. We covered a lot in that time! I don’t think I’ve spoken to a fellow backpacker to the same extent in the three months that I’ve been here! It’s not great really.

I surprised myself as I did actually try when I first arrived but discovered a weird cycle that happened within the hostel. It’s literally an excerpt from my years in Secondary School. A new backpacker would arrive and you’d strike up conversation with them at a random moment. You think a (friendly) connection was made but before you know it, they’ve been sucked into “the main group” and you don’t hear much from them again. As each member of “the main group” disappears, they are replaced by another one. They’re made up of the same stock characters – the geeky nice guy that everyone likes, the overly flirty girls, beach bum guys and the mature gapper. Now I can’t be arsed. The end is in sight now so I’m looking forward to moving on and making new friends as I travel.

I’m not a fan of friend-groups anyway. I have a series of individual friends back home as well as those I met at university dotted around England. Some of them may know each other but, for the most part, I usually see them on their own rather than as a collective. I like it that way and it definitely cuts down the chances of drama.

However, sometimes conflict just follows me around. I had a bit of a set-to with one woman who pounded on our wall and came over shouting about how she didn’t pay $90 a night to listen to our conversation. The thing is, we weren’t even being loud. We’ve had loud music (DJ Steff in the house!), blazing arguments and attacks of the giggles (I have a loud laugh when I find something truly funny). But this time we were just having a serious conversation about our travel plans. I got down off of my bunk and was ready to give a verbal beat down. The stupid woman walked off before I even started. Damn.

Other than the random guy moments (future post to come), there was only one other confrontation and that was with a drunken idiot who decided to throw a lot of nasty words at my roommate. I’m very protective of my friends. Lucky for him, I was half asleep so he didn’t see the full extent of my feistiness. I generally try to avoid confrontation if I can and am not a violent person in the slightest but my protective instincts kicks in when it comes to my friends…or I guess if some stupid woman bangs on our wall at night, ha. You don’t want to see me when I get angry…

Not to worry, as all was not lost as I was put in touch with a few people via friends on Facebook. I only ended up meeting one but she turned out to be awesome. Again, quality overrules quantity. My roommates ribbed me for meeting up with someone I’d only ever messaged once or twice on Facebook. It’s another incident which showed the glaring differences in our outlooks towards travelling. I had no qualms about meeting a near stranger and it worked out to my advantage.

I met Emma for a drink one evening and we had a great chat. There were no awkward silences and we had a lot in common. Emma completely empathised with me as she arrived in Australia friendless and did everything in her power to meet new people. Emma joined clubs and started new hobbies and soon went from wall flower to social princess. I should have followed suit really but I honestly had more faith in the backpacker community.

Emma introduced me to her friend Bex who was, at the time of our first meeting, based in Dee Why where I work. We met for coffee and had a lovely chat. Unfortunately our conflicting diaries have meant that I haven’t seen as much of Emma and Bex as I would like to which is a real shame. Nevertheless, I do feel like they are people I will remain friends with for a long time so I won’t feel like it’s goodbye forever when I eventually leave Australia.

If my trip was to end tomorrow, I would be extremely happy with the friends I have made in each country. I was hoping to meet a handful of awesome people overall but the total has already reached double figures and I’m not even half way through my trip yet!

On Second Thought...

“If you can get your heart going, it does make you happier and I get my heart going by moaning. When I get annoyed, that’s when my heart kicks in. It’s a win-win for me ‘cos my heart gets going when I’m having a moan and that makes me feel a bit better and if I’m happy, I’m happy.” Karl Pilkington, An Idiot Abroad, Season 2, Episode 6.

My attempts at condensing down my last three months in Sydney haven’t quite gone according to plan. Upon reflection and some feedback from friends, it looks like my exasperated moans might have come across as a bit snobby and holier than thou. This was not my intention nor does it represent who I am, so this instalment of my blog is part disclaimer part set-the-record-straight statement.

In general terms, I have always tried to keep the tone of my blog light but informative whilst maintaining the look of a diary. Like a diary, my blog has been a silent friend who has listened to my times of great achievement and moments of elation, as well as my times of utter despair when things have gone wrong. My diary doesn’t judge me and is there as an outlet to vent in times of need. With me, what you see is what you get, and it’s the same with my diary. My emotions come flowing though my blog like it’s an extension of my soul. When I’m happy my blog posts bounce and flourish but when I’m in a dark place the words might bite and end on a sour note.

Like my personality, I don’t choose to hide my true opinions and observations. My blog isn’t a never-ending Facebook status. I don’t want it to be full of fake projections of how fantastic my life is and how wonderful I feel. Of course, when I’m happy, I’ll write that I’m happy. But when I’m sad, you will also see that side.

I’ll cast you back to my blog post about my stay in Koh Phangan. That was an awful time for me and I wasn’t going to shy away from that. I was naïve and walked into that party with the hazy misconceptions filtered through to me from friends and Google links. Thankfully I came prepared and, with a large stroke of luck, ended up back at my bungalow safe and sound. I wanted to remember that moment and how I felt as I know that when I’m back in England I won’t be thinking about the bad times. All I’ll remember are all the remnants of how great my trip was and how I want to go out and do more travelling. But I want to remember that there were certain moments where things didn’t go according to plan but I pulled through it and came out the other side. I’m a stronger person for it and it’s one of many elements to my trip where I have learned a lot.

Obviously my blog isn’t just about me. I want to share these life lessons and tribulations with you too. I guess it’s partly so you don’t make the same mistakes as I did, but also to show that life as a traveller isn’t all as glamourous as the guide books and travel shows portray!

I hope the above has served as a justifiable context to the reason why my past few blogs have been a bit arsey. I entered Australia on the dizzy notion that it was the place to be. So many Brits fly out to Australia and never come back so it must be some kind of awesome. Things haven’t quite gone according to plan so, at my lowest points, I felt like I’d been short-changed. Where’s my flipping Australian dream eh?

Seeing the bigger picture – I’m on a brilliant year-long round the world trip full of adventure, great laughs and even greater food…not forgetting the cake of course – it’s easy to sit back and wonder what all the fuss is about. I should just shut my mouth and enjoy the ride. Unfortunately it’s not been that easy. I’ve had to make Australia my temporary home. At my  home in England, I have certain anchors which keep me steady and strong when a shit storm hits. The obvious ones being my parents and my closest friends who know me through and through, but you’ll be surprised how significant the little things are that get you through the day. Imagine a day consisting of a series of unfortunate events. You’re late for work, your boss shouts at you, stroppy workers/customers take out their own frustrations on you, the rain batters you on the way home and a truck rolls through a massive puddle drenching you from head to toe…and so on and so forth. When you get home, you kick off your shoes, stretch out on the sofa and catch up on your stories thanks to Sky+ or you head for a nice long steamy shower and have a good ol’ pamper session.

For me, I bake. Baking matches my personality completely. You have to be a perfectionist. Too much flour and your cake is dry, too much butter and it’s too greasy and can sometimes sink in the pan and not cook properly. I love creating sugary, heavenly goodness from a box of ingredients. I intended on living in a house-share situation whilst out in Australia, but this fell through. If I did, I would have had an oven and could bake until the cows came home. I don’t have access to an oven here. It did knock me down a little bit.

It’s one of many things that have slowly pushed me further and further to the brink of boiling point. Living in this hostel knowing that someone has rifled through my things and taken my food*, my flip-flops were stolen, my boss picked me apart from start to finish throughout all my shifts for a while, backpackers speaking to you like they’re your best friends one day then ditching you for a new group of people, not being able to move about freely in my room as it’s so small, not having enough money to eat properly…and so on and so forth. All these things by themselves aren’t much. You’d grumble for a few minutes and then move on. But all those things and more can gradually pull you down until one day, you go to make a tuna pasta salad and find that the mayonnaise you spent $5 tastes like something out of a sweet/candy/lollie store and you want to scream “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” but you can’t as there are people around you.

So yes, I have been a bit downbeat about Australia so far as it’s not what I thought it would be. The Northern Beaches of Sydney is definitely not full of the kind of people that make Australia a country worth living in. It sounds harsh but even the Australian TNT magazine (backpackers travel magazine) agrees with me stating that Aussies in Tasmania are a heck of a lot nicer and more laid back.

I have moaned a bit but sometimes it’s good for the soul to have a bit of a moan. A thought which is expressed perfectly by Karl Pilkington in this clip during the Route 66 episode. Even though a lot of what Karl Pilkington says is hilarious, he does make sense sometimes and he moans a lot more than I do when he's travelling!

So there you go, that’s me. I hope that all makes sense and adds a bit more context to my previous posts. If not, well…err…just keep reading, it does get better as I have had fun days here.

*Since writing this blog post, the thief has been caught and thrown out of the hostel. Hooray!!!

Sydney So Far...Money

Money is a subject that divides many. It’s an unfortunate circumstance that can start wars and ruin friendships. Thankfully neither have happened to me so far (touch wood) but there's still panic in the air. It doesn't help that everything in Australia is around treble the price of what it would be in England. Some of the lucky ones around here get wages which reflect this. I on the other hand don't. Great.

*****

Having settled in one place for a while, I’ve observed the lifestyles of those in Australia with astonishment. On the one side, I’ve seen backpackers try any trick in the book to save money, including stealing. On the other side, I’ve witnessed Sydneysiders’ way of life. Many splash the cash and attempt to lord it above everyone else. I’m not quite sure who they are trying to impress as Sydney seems to be a rich society. It makes it all rather pointless and laughable. 

Thankfully not everyone is like that and I have met a couple of nice Aussies. I’m still a little wary and I feel like I need to do a bit more travelling to have a more rounded perception. It would be silly to judge an entire nation based on the exchanges that unfold at work. As a waitress, I do have direct contact with more idiots than usual. It was the same back in England.

I’m not really sure where I fit in on this spectrum. I do watch what I spend, especially now that I am earning, but it doesn’t stop me from treating myself. I built up the funds for my trip through hard work and sacrifices which has left me with a greater level of appreciation for each and every experience. But just because I have that money safely nestled in my bank account, it doesn’t mean I rub it in everyone’s faces. On the contrary, I’m still the first to say that I need to save money. I seem to be on less pay than those around me which is a situation I'm all too familiar with. Some things never change.

It is annoying when people use my savings against me. Despite the fact that they are cordoned off for New Zealand and America, I’m always told that I’m in a better situation than everyone else. I don’t feel like I have to justify myself to people but having the same argument grates. Sometimes I just go off on a tangent about how I may have this money now but in six months’ time it will be gone. I plan on spending the lot baby! At this point, I'm always tempted to use the Nicolas Cage crazy eyes but then I might get committed. I'd never go quite that far with a joke.

It’s the scariest and the most exciting part of my trip (not the Nic cage eyes...the having no money lark). I’m living my life to the fullest but in six months’ time I’m going to be penniless and jobless. My safety blanket has gone and I need to figure out what my next adventure will be…still thinking. I’ll get back to you on that one.

I’m not expecting anyone to understand my reasons behind what I’m doing, nor do I care if they agree with them, but it is funny meeting others who have a completely different perspective on life. Walk in Mel and Steff, my roommates. They went through a similar hardship raising funds for their trip except they only planned on visiting Thailand. Their Australian leg of their trip was a spontaneous decision which is admirable. They came to Australia with nothing and had no money for a back-up plan. Both Mel (waitress) and Steff (freelance labouring/removals) are on a good wage, earning at least double what I make in a week.

You could say that we were both in the same position as I had more money than I anticipated when I arrived in Australia. Unfortunately the money I saved in other countries ended up getting spent in the first weeks of my stay here searching for a job. Mel and Steff also had more money than they anticipated but have since decided to purchase luxuries they didn’t have the opportunity to get whilst they were saving back home. Mel has bought an apple MacBook Pro and a Blackberry. Steff also bought a Blackberry and a second hand laptop.

I’m not going to lie, I have bought some clothes whilst I’ve been here. I only had one dress so my wardrobe was in desperate need of a revamp. It’s funny how back home I would rummage through my entire wardrobe and moan that I had nothing to wear whereas then, I literally had nothing to wear on a night other than my dress. Sometimes it’s not even a case of what I have to wear, but what’s clean and half decent. Oh the glamour of being a backpacker!

So Mel and Steff have no qualms about spending now and saving later. An extra kick in the teeth still is that they’ll probably still have more money to spend travelling around Australia than I will!

I don’t think I’d have the strength to carry an Apple or anything like that around with me. I’d be constantly fretting that I’d sat on it or left it on the train. Either instance is more plausible than you think in my case!

Obviously that’s their preference, but it’s one that baffles me. I guess Mel and Steff are here longer than I am so have a better chance of saving more money for future travels.

Australia is good for one thing, and that is shopping. They have good shops and excellent sales. Even their charity shops are awesome. Yes, I have bought items from a charity shop. Vinnie’s is the place to be. I bought a dress for $3 and books there are $1 or 2. I must say though, someone ought to tell the retailers that the lowest coin denomination here is 5c so by pricing something at $9.97, you aint fooling anyone mate, that’s $10. At least in England, when something is priced £9.99, that’s actually what you pay.

They say money can’t buy you happiness but it can buy things like cake and pretty clothes which give you shorts bursts of the stuff. That’ll do me just fine. However, the bits in between are full of work, sleep and stress. Who knew settling down in one place could cause such problems. I was looking forward to it, but now I can’t wait to get outta here! I can’t even begin to describe how much I’m looking forward to getting back on the road again.

After heavy discussion and much debate, Mel, Steff and I have formulated a rough plan as to where we would like to go before we part ways. So far this is our list:

1. Fly out to Tasmania – 1 to 2 weeks
2. Fly back to Melbourne – 1 week
3. Rent out a campervan/car and do the Great Ocean Road
4. Head across to Adelaide and either get a train and join a tour of Uluru or drive there ourselves. We’re still undecided on that one. It all depends on what money we have left.
5. Head across to Cairns where we hope to find some work to boost our funds. We might have to stop off somewhere sooner for work, perhaps Adelaide.
6. Travel overland from Cairns to Byron Bay with several stops in between (e.g. Great Barrier Reef, Fraser Island, Gold Coast).
7. I bid a tearful goodbye to Mel and Steff and fly out to Auckland from Brisbane.

It doesn’t really sound like much of a plan. Hopefully we’ll fill in the gaps a bit more nearer our departure. As long as we have a rough guess, the rest we can take as it comes. It’s all part of the fun! Of course, in the meantime, we could have strangled each other by then, after 3 months of living under each other’s skin in a teeny tiny three bed room. I’m surprised we’ve survived this long.

Sydney So Far...Food

My welcome to Sydney was soured slightly by a wave of illness. I firstly had what can only be described as some mutant cold. I’d never experienced anything like it. Not one to be centre of attention, I felt I had to share my disease with those nearest to me. That just happened to be my roommate. Mel was ever so appreciative. It was nice to have someone know how shit I felt. My throat throbbed, my muscles whined with every movement and my head felt like a bowling ball. My energy…well I didn’t have any. I felt like Mr Burns from The Simpsons but I didn’t have Smithers to help me out. I had to pick my own sorry ass up and go to the doctors.

Steff and I previously visited the Medicare centre at the mall to register for free medical treatment. We actually went to the wrong place at first, to the scorn of the receptionist. “This is a PRIVATE clinic,” said the blonde waif behind the office desk. The look of disgust on her face actually made me laugh when she said it. I find that a lot of Aussies have a short fuse. This is something I love to play with whilst at work. It kind of gets me through a slow moving day.

Eventually we found the right place. After some form filling we had our voucher slips. We couldn’t get a card sent out as we were staying in a hostel. Ridiculous seen as people get their Tax File Numbers and bank statements sent there. My annoyance was clouded by my continued sniggering after Steff’s – “Am I an aboriginal?” – slip up.

*****

After catching the last 15 minutes of Finding Nemo, I was called into the doctor’s office. I explained my symptoms and he shrugged it off and said it should clear up in a few days. This wasn’t good news. I’d felt terrible for a week already and, at that point, I’d just started my new job. Customers don’t appreciate being coughed over when I serve them their food. Mel was prescribed antibiotics.

The doctor handed me a prescription and said that if it doesn’t clear up in a few days, to come back in. He said that I don’t really need to take anything but gave me a prescription anyway. Hmm. Thanks doc!

I didn’t feel better and started to get a mouth ulcer so I made another appointment. I told him how I seem to keep picking up bugs in each country I visit. Every two to three weeks I would come down with something. I asked if there was anything I can do to boost my immune system. Zinc tablets were recommended. The doctor said that normally, with the symptoms and consistency of the problems that I have experienced, he would consider Glandular Fever as a possible cause. Shit. He quickly followed this up by the fact that it probably isn’t that seen as I’ve already had it. Phew! Don’t throw that one at me! Been there, done that and burnt the t-shirt.

The doctor told me that my mouth ulcer is actually a gum infection. The prescription he gave me at my last appointment should clear it up. He said it might need to come out. What? The only dental treatment I’ve ever had was braces as a teenager and now I get hit with this.

This prognosis was confirmed by a dentist. I had some thinking to do. In the meantime I just wanted the pain to stop. It had gotten to the point where I couldn’t speak properly. It hurt to smile, it hurt to laugh, it hurt to eat and felt like the whole side of my face was corroding. It was the weirdest sensation. All this was caused by a tooth. Mad.

After hearing how money grabbing the dentists are here in Australia - one poor guy endured root canal treatment here only to be told back in England that it was pointless - I decided to leave it. If I do have any further problems, I know what to take to clear the infection. I don’t want unnecessary treatment and will leave it to my British dentist to decide. Although they are just as much “in it for the money” as the Aussies. I think that’s a general rule played by all dentists!

I got my prescription, zinc tablets and some bargain perfume. My mood was lifted as I found a store that actually undercut the prices of items back in the UK. It’s a miracle!!

I have since met many backpackers who experienced the same health issues when they arrived so it must be a rite of passage for all travellers. I guess it keeps things balanced – “Hey, you’re travelling the world and having fun. Too much fun now so here, stay in bed for a bit with this awful mutant cold.”

I think my deterioration in health might have something to do with my diet too. Australia is the first place where I have had to prepare and cook my own food. For the previous months, I’d been eating out every day. It was wonderful. I had awesome food and cake of course. Now I have to fend for myself. I stumbled a little bit. I think I actually forgot what it was like to eat like a normal person. My first supermarket shop was a rushed one and my basket contents resembled that of a university student on a strict budget.

My first week consisted of dishes such as tuna pasta and soup. Oh dear. I soon realised that I couldn’t live this way and doubled my food budget.

The one good thing about the hostel where I was staying at is that they had free breakfast.

It’s strange what you end up missing. I’d not had cereal for such a long time. I used to eat it every day back home. The cornflakes were a Godsend. However, all good things must come to an end and the free breakfasts stopped after a week. Some greedy bastards decided to steal loaves of bread and cartons of milk that were meant for other guests. It obviously caused a sharp increase in the cost of providing breakfast. I hate backpackers with a passion. Cheeky greedy bastards who are out for whatever they can get for free. Of course some backpackers have morals but I seem to run into all the ones that don’t here!

This was a notice pinned up on the shelves where I have had many items stolen. I love this! I hope the thief did read this and choke.

My first proper supermarket experience was freaky. Freaky deaky! I understand that there are differences in every country but I always felt like Australia was like a cross between England and America in many ways. But it seems that Australians have taken the same route as America in making ridiculous changes to things that are fine just as they are. It might be easier if I list some of them. This is what I have noticed so far:

1.    Vegemite looks like marmite, has the same ingredients as marmite but tastes like garbage juice. It is disgusting. I love marmite. Let down.

2.    Kelloggs Rice Crispies are called Kelloggs Rice Bubbles here.

3.    The Coco Pops monkey is different. He’s changed from a round, cute cheeky monkey to a spiky Sonic-like evilness.

4.    Cordial or squash doesn’t seem to be as much of a household staple as in England. I walked straight past this as I thought they were car wash or bleach bottles.

I rest my case

5.    The Aussies have changed the colours of their crisp packets. It took me long enough to get used to green being Salt & Vinegar and blue being Cheese & Onion rather than the other way around. The colours here just don’t make sense. Pink is Salt & Vinegar and green is Ready Salted or should I say “Original”.
6.  The mayonnaise here is weird. In England you get your standard Hellmanns along with other cheaper products with the same style. You also get flavoured ones – garlic, peri-peri etc etc. It took me a few purchases to actually discover the proper mayonnaise. The first couple of times I picked up this awful sweet mayonnaise. It was vile. It turned my tuna pasta into a dessert it was that sweet. Who eats sweet mayonnaise?

I do feel like I’m beginning to resemble the couple, Janice and Ray, from The Catherine Tate Show (UK comedy show). "The dirty bastards." The above comments are a mixture of random observations with some annoyances dotted around. It’s just a few of a long list of weird things I have noticed about Aussies. It sometimes feels like they’ve taken something English or American and attempted to put their own spin on it. But instead of coming across as authentic, it’s just a bit odd.

For instance, a bacon and egg sarnie is a classically British breakfast staple. A favourite among brickies and the hungover. One day an Aussie must have thought that although this is good food, we need to make it different. We need to add something that the Brits would never think of. Sauces don’t count as that’s more of a diner’s choice. Got it! Cheese. Let’s have a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich. It actually makes my stomach lurch with disgust just thinking about it.

How about another one? It’s a standard for restaurants to have condiments and sauces to accompany any meal. Salt and pepper are a must. Tomato sauce is another one. Barbeque or brown sauce is also appreciated. Then there’s mayonnaise. Thick crispy chips dipped in mayonnaise. Yes please. But one Aussie thought that mayonnaise is too ordinary and bland. Let’s juge it up a little. Firstly we’ll change the name to aioli. Not only does it look weird but a bet those bloody Brits wouldn’t even know how to pronounce it. Obviously we’ll have to add something to it to justify the name change. Garlic and onion will do. I have yet to find a restaurant that serves plain old mayonnaise. So far it’s aioli or basil mayonnaise (which is actually quite nice but that’s not the point!).


Yet the Aussies have the cheek to call our food as dreary as our weather. It seems to be the same things that I hear from them. It's definitely made me more patriotic and has forced me to be rather defensive about England. In regards to Aussie food, well so far I've not seen anything unique or inherently Australian. Yes they have kangaroo but that's just a meat, not a dish. England is teaming with traditional dishes for all foodies. Our food is definitely not dreary so they can stick that comment up their arse.

It’s a good job you guys have Tim Tams and an abundance of steak. I’d not been in Sydney more than a week when I enjoyed my first $10 steak night. I spent more money on dessert...

 $15 of sweet, gooey, chocolatey goodness

God bless happy hour - the Bellini

I’ve had the cake a few times now and it stands as my one chance to get value for money. Other than the free food I get at work that is. That is one sweet perk…ahhhhh. Sorry, I drifted off then. It makes me happy that I work at a place that serves good food, especially the breakfasts. I didn’t really have breakfast in Japan as there was never anything to have that suited me. I tried many of the fry-ups in Thailand but was thoroughly disappointed. Where I work, I could pretty much eat anything on the menu, although their version of French toast baffles me. It’s lathered in maple syrup for starters and is served with a fruit salad. Maybe what I’m thinking of is not French toast.

Anyway, life is good when free food is involved. Recently I made a mistake at work. Luckily the boss wasn’t around so I didn’t get scalded. On the contrary, I was told I had to eat my mistake. Ok, let me try that again so it makes sense. I ordered the wrong type of pancakes for a table. It sounds daft but I put through the breakfast pancakes – blueberry – but the lady wanted banana pancakes which is listed as a dessert and is served (generally) in the evenings. Thankfully the woman was fine about it and didn’t make a fuss. I on the other hand had to eat the blueberry pancakes. Outrageous I know! Ahhh, that was a good day…

I need to stop thinking about food. Well it doesn’t help that I’m writing a blog post about it but hey. I could write for hours about how backwards Australia is when it comes to food and drink. So a lolly here is any kind of sweet. If someone asks for a lolly they could be asking for a pack of gummy bears or some Werther’s Originals. In England a lolly is a lollypop and a lollypop alone.

Not convinced you yet? Takeaway shutting times. What if you finish work at midnight or you’re stumbling home after a night out and you fancy something greasy – a pizza, a kebab or a big fat juicy burger. You’ll be hard-pushed to find a takeaway open past 11pm. It’s a pain in the arse when I work a night shift as I don’t get a break, ergo I don’t get free food, which means I’m bleedin’ starvin’ when I finish work. There’s no chance of a portion of chicken and cashew nuts from the local Chinese my friend. Everyone nearby has shut up shop.

I keep reading about how hard-working Aussies are but I don’t see it. Shops shut early, takeaways shut early and the kids have only just gone back to school so even they get it easy. Sheesh, if there’s one country in the world where you can work less and get paid more, Australia’s your country. Sounds great in theory but when your stomach is howling for some grub and there’s nothing you can do, it aint that great!

Oh and just in case you’re shouting at your screens – “Get in the kitchen and cook something you lazy mare,” – the kitchen at the hostel shuts at 10pm. Arse.

The icing on this crazy-ass cake is that the delivery costs more than the food! Obviously you have to order something that totals more than $15/20 which is understandable. I wouldn’t be happy either driving half an hour to deliver a cake to some fatty (that fatty would be me of course!). Standard delivery in Sydney…$8. The cheapest pizza is $6.95. I got my trainers shipped over here from the UK for that!

Ok, ok, I feel like I’ve made my point. I find Australia’s way of doing things a little hard to handle. I mean COME ON! However, I do feel that I can turn anything negative into a positive. At least that is what I'm trying to do at the moment to keep myself from going insane.

My body has a tendency to reject certain foods for no rhyme or reason. I’ll have something to eat one day and be fine, then have the exact same thing another day and I’ll be left sprinting for the toilets. I’ve had more gut problems here than in Thailand. However (here comes the positive bit), my body handles cake just fine. Any cake at all in fact, which is good as I don’t know what I would do if I had to give up sugar. I’d have to invent some sort of cake substitute.

I guess I could just class it as an intolerance to gluten like everyone else. Most people in Sydney claim to be celiacs! It’s obviously a new health fad but it’s ridiculous. As ridiculous as the people that come in and ask for a skim milk cappuccino and then orders the pancakes that are drowned in maple syrup. Don’t worry, you’ve had 100ml of skim milk, you can treat yourself! 


It does make me laugh though so I can't get too irate. As you can tell, there is a never-ending list of Aussie idiosyncrasies that don’t make sense to me. That’s inevitable when travelling to a foreign country. Except this time it’s not quaint, nor does it seem necessary. It’s just weird and oddly funny at times.

Australia and I do not make a perfect match. We’re almost like an old bickering married couple that are so sick of each other; we end up having a good ol’ moan to get us through the day. It is rather fitting seen as the English and Aussies always have a pop at each other. At least I’m getting into the spirit of things!