Here's One I Made Earlier

Blue Peter wasn’t necessary a staple in the Lee household growing up but it certainly had a strong presence within the era I grew up in. I caught the back-end of the desperate struggle to gain the prestigious Blue Peter badge.

For the non-Brits out there, Blue Peter is a long-running children’s television show. Another synonymous part of Blue Peter was the crafts section. Before the days of compulsory recycling, there was a different way to make use of finished toilet rolls, cereal boxes and ice lolly sticks.

A chirpy BP presenter would cut, fold and stick an amalgamation of crap together and start dousing it in papier mache. It would barely hold together and you'd squint and turn your head from side to side in a fruitless attempt to recognise what the hell they were making.

But fear not, the infamous words – “Here’s one we made earlier” – would emanate from their pearly whites and there you have it. Instead of a sloppy mountain of masking tape and watery paper, you have a perfectly moulded model of some sort.

Naïve children were lead to believe that this presenter spent minutes magically creating a masterpiece. I’m sure many kids tried and failed to make the Thunderbirds model, Tracy Island. This is the famous episode that most people recognise. It was a bit before my time but even I remember that one.

Many times in my travels I’ve wanted to say those words. Here’s a spectacular itinerary I made earlier. Instead, I stumble about blindly not necessarily thinking things through and consistently cut corners to save money. Why would anyone want to fly from Phuket to Kuala Lumpur when you can take a 24 hour bus ride? I’ve saved a tenner, I win!

There have been plenty of moments where I wish I had the gift of hindsight but then that would be boring. If I did catch a train or flight to Kuala Lumpur I would never have met Mel and Steff. They are more like extended family to me. We’ve been through so much together and have witnessed every angle of our personalities and have come through it all smiling and stronger than ever. It’s a flaming miracle and a wonderful one at that.

Fiji wasn't necessarily my Tracy Island but I probably should have thought twice about squeezing a five hour boat ride, ten hour flight and three hour train ride into one day.

*****

Brains of Britain here decided to have a heavy drinking session the night before a cave trip. That’s exactly what my hangover needed!

At least Amy and Amelia were in the same boat as me and felt equally rotten. We could crawl our way through this day together.

Alas, things are never that simple. As my caves trip came in voucher form through the package that I booked, I ended up going through a different company. Ridiculous seen as the resort offered exactly the same trip. Why not pay them instead of this rival company?

 

Amy and Amelia went off with the Coral View crew and me and two others stayed. We hung around for an hour until the boat arrived. My inner monologue ticked over what I could have done with that precious wasted hour. 

We weren’t the only ones left waiting. The boat made three stops to different resorts picking up random travellers. The others would be in and out of the caves by the time we got there!

A bumpy boat ride is not the cure for a hangover but a cause of one sore arse! All our arses collectively slammed into the wooden slats of the boat as we clung to each other for dear life. It’s not like there was anything else to hold on to! I decided that today was hug a stranger day.

Soaking wet and slightly bruised, we arrived at the Sawa-I-Lau cave entrance. The tour leader asked for $5 in exchange for snorkel goggles. I had no idea what I’d want to see underwater in a dark cave but was told it’s a necessity.

In my hangover-induced-wisdom, I brought my cloth handbag. My stuff was soaked but I managed to scrape out enough money to hand to the leader. I didn’t think anybody would want to steal my sorry-looking bag, so left it on the boat.

Teams of tourists packed up the stairs and entered the caves. Herded in like a sheep, I plopped into the water and feebly doggy-paddled (in fear of colliding with the jutting rocks that surrounded me) in the direction of others heading towards the light. It was as eerie as it sounds.

Charming!

Collectively everyone shrugged, “Now what?” as we tread water. Some nutters climbed up the side of the cave and jumped. No thanks.

Little did I know, I had my own daredevil stunt that I had to perform. To venture further into the caves, you had to swim through an underwater tunnel. Holy moly. I seemed to be the only one unnerved by this.

One by one, swimmers bobbed under the water and never came back up again. I’m going to die. I’m going to bash my head on a rock and run out of breath. Water is going to gush through to my lungs and I’m going to suffocate. I couldn’t tell if I was quivering in fear or from the cooling water temperature.

A woman from the resort talked me through it and took my camera so I had both hands free. Everyone said you’re under water for a few seconds. I can handle that. I practised holding my breath and counted to ten. I can do this. I moved forward and joined the queue.

Clinging to the rock face before the tunnel, I psyched myself up. I jumped out of a flipping plane and I’m worried about a bit of water. Man up! I grabbed a rope chained to the wall and pulled myself forward. The guide explained that once I go under, all I need to do is swim towards the light. The snorkel goggles make sense now.

This all sounds simple enough, nothing to worry about. One…two…eee…three…

For some reason I couldn’t sink. You’d think after all the cake and, more recently, waffles I’d eaten I’d sink to the ground like an anchor. Was I running out of breath already? I looked forward and could see a bright light. Am I dying? No wait, the guy said to swim towards the light. This is not heaven, this is a cave. I moved forward through the tunnel with a helpful shove in the side from the guide. This force propelled me forward like a torpedo and I flew forward. I flapped around for a bit. This has been more than a few seconds. Lying bastards.

Still moving forward, where the heck am I? I could feel my breath escaping but knew that panicking would not help. I stretched my arms forward as far as possible and kicked my legs. I felt something lock around my arm and wrench me forward. It was the light. 

God? I didn’t actually mutter those words but I was thankful to whoever is watching over me. It was a guide who grabbed me and pulled me up to the surface. Thanks to the snorkel goggle, I had no water up my nose. I just gasped and flapped for a few seconds like a trout on a fisherman’s deck.

It was so dark that nobody could see my pathetic prancing. The woman from Coral View was there already with my camera and I breezily covered my trembling with confident utterances. I was fine, it was fine. Deep down I gulped uneasily as I knew that the same journey awaited me.

A handful of us were guided around and told a couple of legends about the caves. I couldn’t hear a thing. I had a quick look around followed by a few “oos” and “ahs” then it was time to head back. Already!? I zoned out and imagined myself living in the caves. I don't have to go back. My thought train was interrupted as I started playing out my evolutionary progression in adopting gills. Alright, alright, I’m coming. I left my daydream and my fear back in the cave as I dived under and back through to the other side. I knew there was a guy waiting to pull me through so I wasn’t scared.

To prevent any collisions, we took a different route back to the caves. This tunnel was a lot narrower but my arse just about squeezed through. Ok, I’m ready to leave now. The caves were interesting enough but paddling around in murky water dodging tourists wasn’t my idea of fun. My waterproof watch told me that I’d be cutting it fine in getting back to the resort and departing on my boat back to Nadi.

Villagers greeted us as we exited and ushered us over to their market stalls. It was all the same crafts and jewellery that I’d seen countless times. I’d already bought a cannibal fork and a coconut hair clip from my Fijian family in Namatakula so I was sorted. As much as I wanted to help the villagers, I didn’t want to be carrying around too many nik-naks.

Normally the journey back is quicker but this boat ride was taking forever. I needed a shower, have some food, check out properly and say goodbye to everyone. By the time we got back to the resort, I had 45 minutes. Mustering up my inner Usain Bolt, I sprinted to reception and rented a towel. I ignored the rule of using the reception toilets and showers and dashed back to my room and used the nicer ones there. I threw on the things I hastily grabbed from my suitcase in reception.

Lunch was ready and waiting. I piled my plate up and sat down. Everyone had already finished. I devoured my meal like a prisoner after hunger strike. This spicy sweet pumpkin dish was so delicious I had to go up for seconds. I can eat and say goodbye surely?

As I started up on round two, a worker came across and asked me if I was going to check out. Like a pupil being told off by their Headmaster, I uncomfortably stirred in my seat. Food will have to wait. I got up and handed my bank card to settle the bill and went back to my plate. This is Fiji, there is no chip and pin here. It takes a good few minutes to process a payment. 

Moments later, the worker came back over and told me my card had been declined. Ha…what? This did not look good. I was checking out late and I seemed more interested in pumpkin than paying. I’m not surprised the worker thought I was trying to pull a fast one. I explained that I did not have any other cards. The worker suggested trying it again as there is the slight chance that they got the card number wrong.

Within the melee, Emma and a couple of others came over all smiles, ready to embrace and say goodbye. My eyes welled up and their smiles faded. After asking what was wrong I went on a massive tirade about the awkward caves trip which meant that I didn’t have enough to do everything that I wanted to. I had less than ten minutes and I’d not seen anyone to say goodbye to. I hate being rushed. What’s more, my card has been declined so I might not even get to leave the island!

Emma calmed me down and said everything will be ok. I knew it would be but I was still worked up. I have no idea why. I’ve spent the past two weeks (maybe even longer) drifting past life’s stressors and enjoying my trip. For some reason, today I flipped. I had no pristine Tracy Island model to present whilst sweeping the gloopy mess of my first attempt to one side.

Suddenly the worker cropped up again all blushes and smiles saying my card went through. Hooray! I spooned the last remnants of pumpkin into my mouth, gathered my things and hugged everyone goodbye. I had time to swap details with those I cared about and waited outside for the boat. The lovely workers at Coral View placed a floral necklace around each of our necks and sang us the goodbye song. Even though everything had been lovely at Coral View, I was ready to leave. Two weeks had definitely been enough Fiji for me. I craved the chaos and craziness of America.

 Amelia, me and Amy

 Me and Emma

Angela, Amy, Amelia and I left for our very long boat ride. I was the only one going back to the mainland. I had five hours to burn. Nature programmes and a documentary on Captain Cook averted my boredom.

When I arrived at the last stop, I needed to find my free airport transfer. Before I could do that though, I needed to buy and write postcards as well as find a post office to send them. Yes, I left everything to the last minute. There was a postal service on South Sea Island but nothing for the rest of the way. I hurriedly found some pretty and funny postcards to send to my intended recipients and wrote down some rushed words that I hoped made sense. Luckily the post office was open and I sent them off without too much hassle.

My luggage was left unclaimed. When I went back to the docking bay, I found my suitcase resting in the middle of a pathway prime for the taking. A thief could try and take it but I doubt they’d want 23 kilos of crap. I literally have nothing of worth in my suitcase. In fact, they’d be doing me a favour. I’d claim on the insurance and buy a new wardrobe!

Instead, I lugged the Beast’s elder sister to the car park where I found my coach transfer to the airport. 

Checking in was a breeze and I had time to kill. I ate a grotty burger and undercooked chips whilst watching Fast and Furious on my notebook. I didn’t have time to finish the film unfortunately.

Whilst boarding the plane my mood shifted up a notch as I saw that the chairs had television screens in the back of them. This was short-lived as the picture quality was terrible and the films weren’t optional. I missed the beginning of The Vow as I channel hopped checking out what other films were playing. I was that bored, I even tried to sleep, something that’s impossible for me on public transport. 

Finally I arrived in America. Let the fun times begin!

Don't Worry...Fiji Time

Fiji was meant to be my holiday from travelling but it didn’t feel that way to begin with. The weather was shocking. I never thought I’d bring rain to Fiji but I managed it. Every day was the same but it didn’t affect me too much as it was at its heaviest on a night. I just hoped it would disappear by the time I arrived at the islands!

Having discovered that I am some sort of Rain Princess, I decided to head out to a large water source for nourishment. Namatakula is situated near a waterfall. I say near, it was still a bus ride and a 40 minute trek, but in Fiji, that’s near.

This didn’t faze me. I was a few days into my trip in Fiji and I was already so relaxed I felt like I was floating most of the time. Everything works on “Fiji time”. This is a phrase commonly heard in Fiji and used by many as a joke when things don’t happen on time. Fijians work on a different timescale to foreigners. Things get done when they get done. It’s Fiji time!

When do I ever need an excuse to slow down? You can never be late in Fiji so whenever I apologised for losing track of time, Tupou reassured me that it’s ok – “Fiji time!” I like this concept. I doubt it would ever crossover to another country which is a shame. 

The funny thing is I used to be a stickler for time-keeping in England. I hated it when people turned up ridiculously late or if things didn’t run on time. It stems from my impatient persona. I think this part of my personality has moulted from my brain at some point. 

My frame of mind now is – as long I get the outcome that suits me then I’m not too fussed about what happens up until that point. What’s the point of getting worked up over something that’s usually out of your hands anyway?

Before we headed to watery paradise, Tupou took me to a women’s community meeting. I had no idea what was going on. Money was exchanged, notes were written in books and issues were discussed. As laid back as Fijians are, this village is organised when it comes to matters that affect the community. Everyone sticks together to ensure that things run smoothly, laws are followed and the people are healthy (and well fed).

Catching the bus was easier today but the trek was not. Due to the delightful rain, it meant the track was muddy and slippery. Lazy tourists rode on horseback but I persevered.

One of many streams we waded through to get to the waterfall

Tupou picked up a little something for dinner

Almost there...

Oooo

There were a few tourists dotted about when Tupou and I arrived but thankfully they buggered off after we ate lunch. I had the place to myself.

Tupou didn’t join me as the water was too cold. It’s funny how the mild weather on the main island has the same effect on the locals as England’s bitter winter does to me back home. Everyone wraps up, especially Sake with his woolly hat and giant raincoat.

After drying off and getting changed behind a rock, we made our way back to the bus stop. This time around things were slightly different…

My afternoon remained the same as always. I showered and rested in my room. Laughter echoed through my cabin from the school kids playing rugby on the beach. They practise every day as rugby is taken very seriously here. Apparently Namatakula is well known for producing top rugby players for the country. It’s one of two major ways where locals have the opportunity and means to leave their country. Due to the low minimum wage, a Fijian with a standard job would have to save for years to afford a flight out of the country.

Another way is love. Fijian men are very keen on western women. As there are no white Fijians, we are an exotic presence. If cupid strikes, Fijian men can follow their new beaus back to their native country. Don’t worry mum, I won’t be bringing back a Fijian for dinner!

Speaking of, that night we ate at Tupou’s father’s house.

We ate the Fijian way

The green dish to the left is what Tupou picked up on the way to the waterfall. It was surprisingly tasty

It was another night of kava and an interesting dessert. It was the smelly papaya in coconut milk. I couldn’t eat it as the smell hit me straight away. I felt bad for not eating more.

Just as we were settling down for kava, some Aussie students dropped by to say hello. This isn’t unusual in Fiji as most people have an open door policy, especially in villages. If someone is having kava, it is not uncommon for passers-by to come in and join the group.

Each of the girls was volunteering at one of the schools as part of their studies. We had a brief chat and they left. It did not surprise me that they didn’t want to stay for kava.

We didn’t stay long as Tupou wasn’t feeling too good and was suffering from a bad back. I joked that she should have some kava to cure it.

Little did I know, things were about to take a turn for the worse. For the remainder of my stay with Sake and Tupou, I was ill. I was the sickest I’d been in a very long time. It was horrendous and worrying seen as I was nowhere near a medical centre.

Tupou knew what was wrong with me straight away - too much kava. WHAT!? If I knew that kava could do this to me then I’d never have drank it.

By the end of the next day, I was left a weakened quivering mess. I couldn’t eat and I was in so much pain. I took paracetamol throughout the day along with rehydrating sachets. I barely made it out of the room for the next two days. This was not good as I was due to depart soon to island hop.

Thankfully, I felt slightly better. I still wasn’t 100% but was well enough to begin my island hopping adventure.

Sadly, I missed Tupou before I left which was strange. Normally Tupou would knock on my door to tell me it was time for dinner or whatever was scheduled. Today was different and Tupou left with another homestay resident for the market.

Sake drove me back to the resort where I stayed when I first arrived in Nadi. A brief goodbye later, and I was alone again. I felt bad that my farewell didn’t reflect my time I had with Sake and Tupou. Unfortunately “Fiji time” bit me in the ass today!

On A Slippery Slope To Failure

No dorm room stay would be the same without a scrabble around in the dark for belongings. I’d already packed everything that I needed for the day but I needed to unlock my locker and drag everything out. It wasn't that early but the room was still dark and everyone was comatose.

Layered up, I made my way across to the bus stop to meet Sapphire and head out to Coronet Peak for our day of skiing. I decided to ski over snowboarding as everyone says that it’s easier to learn. I was so excited.

We made it in good time and got our skis, poles and boots from rentals. To make sure that everything was securely fitted, I asked for help adjusting my boots. These things are practically welded onto your feet. It was a weird sensation having something suctioned to your leg and foot. Walking around was even stranger. It felt like I was walking on the moon.

It wasn’t difficult to find the meeting point for our first lesson. A huge group of people huddled around the locker area gripping skis and snowboards awkwardly. Sapphire and I waddled over and we were introduced to our instructor, Helen.

There was no way of knowing beforehand how many people would be in our group lesson but we were told 6-8. Our group grew to 15 as some late stragglers tagged on. I was a bit worried about how this was going to work but went along with it all the same.

Helen briefed us on the skis and how to step into them. We put one on first and got used to sliding forwards and backwards with it, lifting it up, hopping and twisting it mid-air. The last manoeuvre made me lose my balance and I fell over. I wasn’t wearing any waterproof bottoms so I hoped that would be the only time I fell. Surprisingly my joggers held out the water and I was fine.

Everyone was a bit wobbly at this point so I didn’t feel too inept. We attached our second ski and started to move around in circles and down the smallest of declines. Straight skis to move forwards and a wedge/triangle shape to brake. Helen beamed, “10 out of 10 Danielle.” Ha, this is alright.

Although we had an hour and a half lesson, ten minutes was wasted due to the confusion with the last minute additions. Also, because of the large group it meant that many of us were waiting around to ski down the slope and brake. It didn’t give us much practise.

I look confused even before I put the skis on, oh dear.

The lesson ended and we had a couple of hours before our next session. Sapphire and I had some nasty chips and gravy. Afterwards, I went out for some much needed practise. Whilst doing so, I met a few people from our group. One couple had gone up one of the larger slopes and said it was easy. I asked if they’d skied before and they said it was their first time. I decided to follow them up and give it a go.

It was a decision I’d soon regret as my wedge was not working. I was going faster and faster which made me panic. Thankfully the fluffy snow at the bottom slowed me down and I managed to dodge oncoming obstructions. I did not want to do that again.

Another couple asked about the slope and I told them that I found it tricky but I didn’t fall over. They went up and eased down calmly and broke without any hassles. The girl did say that she almost fell over and hurt her hip as the ski jutted out but found the rest of the way was alright. Hmm, maybe there’s something I’ve missed and I’ll catch up with the second lesson.

Practising wasn’t that easy as the beginner’s slope and area was crowded with instructors and learners. I tried my best until Helen returned and just hoped everything would fall together.

We all went up the first slope together as a group. We weren’t at a level good enough to try the ski-lift. Instead, a conveyor belt system or magic carpet as they call it, helped us up to the top. I felt like I was in a doll factory and was idly waiting for a giant stamp to label “reject” on me leaving me cast out from the others.

One by one, we all descended down the slope. Others went down gently and Helen critiqued their efforts to help us learn. I went next and flew down. Everyone was surprised I managed to stay upright. I don’t understand why I can’t brake. Exasperated, I asked Helen what I was doing wrong. Helen told me to wait where I was and she’d help me out.

It turned out that Helen asked me to wait at the top of the second slope and she’d help me out. Everyone looked at me and wondered why I wasn’t following them. I felt like a reject and was so frustrated with myself. I’m not used to finding sports and activities difficult. I was always able to grasp things like this easily from a young age. Perhaps it’s because I’m not as fearless anymore and the panic throws off my coordination.

The first couple I encountered during my practise earlier looked at me like I was dirt on their shoe. They told me to go up and meet Helen as I should have done before. Smug arses.

This time I was at the very top of the slope and I was scared. Helen told us all to wait where one of the girls was stood. I skied down the first bit ok. The second part was a bit trickier. I sped up and I couldn’t stop. I breezed past one of the girls as she stopped and I kept going until a fence broke my fall. Shit. I was so embarrassed. Helen came over and asked if I was ok and I burst into tears. I didn’t even feel any pain, I was just so frustrated and embarrassed.

Everyone else kept practising and Helen stuck with me. She put a contraption on the front of my skis to make it easier to form the wedge. This miracle piece of plastic helped and I was able to stop. Time and again, I managed to stop. Helen stood in front of me the whole time just in case I decided to veer off into a fence again.

We went down one more time without the contraption and I was able to do it. I still wasn’t confident. Helen praised me for sticking with it despite crashing. I just need more practise and hopefully I’ll get the hang of it. I wasn’t sure if I’d have the funds to come up again but it’s not something I will give up on that’s for sure.

Even though there was still a bit of time left before the resort closed, I was absolutely freezing. Sapphire and I called it a day and went inside to get changed and make our way back to the hostel.

Before I left, I went to the toilets to see if I had any marks on my face. I couldn’t see anything but there was a faint mark under my jawline.

Later on in the evening, I went to the kitchen to make myself some food. I went to fold my arms but I couldn’t. It was so weird. My arm was so stiff and every time I tried to place my right arm under my left armpit, I felt a searing pain.

Once I’d eaten I went back to my room and took my top off to see what was wrong. It didn’t feel like it was my arm. It was so strange. My whole left arm was red and swollen. I had one graze and some nasty bruises that ran from my wrist to my bicep. Yet more bruises to add to the collection. Sheesh, what is wrong with me?

With all that excitement in one day, I decided to rest and plod about the next day in anticipation for the swing. I wanted the soreness in my arm to ease off so I wasn’t up for anything too active. Just like the skydive, I was starting to get nervous!

Coffs Harbour 20/03/2012 3 Nights Part 3

Yesterday was a surreal day in the best possible way. Our third day in Coffs Harbour was surreal alright but nobody was smiling.

Sarah made the decision to go back to Collaroy and everyone was in shock. When I was told the news I didn’t feel anything as I knew that no matter what I said, Sarah’s decision was final. It’s a big deal to get up and leave a group mid-trip so I doubt a few nice words would have made her change her mind.

Travelling with a group of people isn’t a decision that should be taken lightly. I’ve been on trips with girls who were my friends and came across problems and drama so travelling with practical strangers is always a risk. Mel, Steff and I are like family and, despite the odd quarrel, still remain close no matter what. Sarah was a newcomer and it’s the hardest role to slot into. Sarah also had the least amount of money. Before Sarah came into the mix, I was the one with the least amount of money. My good friend Emma warned me that this could cause problems later on down the line when some people want to do activities or go to places that are out of another person’s budget range. But sometimes the unexpected can get in the way. You can be the best of friends but living or travelling together brings out the neuroses in everyone whether you like it or not. Some bond and some hate the very presence of someone. There’s not a lot you can do if you don’t get on with someone.

I’ve surprised myself with how many different types of people I can get along with. I don’t mean this in a condescending way. It’s more the fact that I usually stick with people who have similar personalities to me or are pretty laid back. This is partly to avoid conflict but also to almost guarantee that I’d get along with them. I hate time wasters, fake people, liars and two faced idiots. You’d think that people would grow out of these immature traits but you’d be surprised. The thing is, you can have similar personalities, be from the same area and know the same people but in an enclosed environment even the seemingly nice people can change. It’s almost like seeing them with fresh eyes. You can’t predict it either; it’s a risk you take. I’ve seen it happen to other people and have witnessed it myself many times.

If anything, a major change like this would be best off happening early on in the trip. Mel, Steff and I have been together (on and off) since Phuket. We may bicker, have our differences and do things that one of us doesn't agree with, but despite this, we are incredibly close. Now that Sarah has left, it’s almost like a relief as awful as that sounds. It feels like nothing else majorly disruptive can happen now. Anything negative that would occur will be tackled by all three of us collectively. In a sense, we’re stronger now. I don’t feel like I need to worry about how I’m being or how everyone else is feeling. I already know that!

With that set of philosophising aside, we still had the rest of the day. After yesterday’s antics, I was ready for a chilled out day. We couldn’t think of much else to do activity-wise in Coffs Harbour but Steff knew exactly what he wanted to do – go karting. The boy is obsessed! He went to a place in Phuket that had souped up carts and drove around like a nut case. In Australia however, it’s not as mighty but the price surely is. He paid $55 for 20 minutes. Mad.

Mel and I weren’t interested so waited by the side and tried to take photos.

...and failed. I did say try!

Steff thinks he looks like this...

When in actual fact he looked like this...

Nice gloves Steff!

I am cheeky I know! I get ribbed all the time so this is tame in comparison. I got full beam lights on me whilst going to the toilet a few days ago, this is nothing!

It looked pretty boring. I’d have to be racing someone for me to feel truly excited about driving around in wiggly circles. Steff seemed happy though so Mel and I shrugged and left.

That happiness didn’t last long. Today was the worst for The Steffan Syndrome. I coin this term as Steff is the only person I have ever met that can lose something within seconds of you handing him something. I could give him a key, a minute later I’ll ask him for it and it’s disappeared. It sounds funny, and for the most part it is, but it sure as hell creates a lot of needless stress. I know how worked up I get when I lose something. I have visions of me tearing my room apart looking for my birth certificate or driving papers. The thing is, my room is a tip so it’s not surprising that I lose things in the mountain of mess that I have. We’re bleedin’ backpackers. We don’t have that much stuff to lose and if we do, we only have two places to look. The car or the tent!

Firstly Steff lost his bank card so Mel and I had to chip together to pay for his go karting. It turns out he left it at the petrol station. Steff then lost his wallet so many times that I can’t actually remember. It was always at the time when we were about to set off and do something so everything had to be dropped to find it. Mel and I would be panicking for him as all his money and cards would be gone. Now, we just roll our eyes and sit back as Steff runs around mumbling to himself and trying to re-enact his previous movements. He is extremely lucky in a sense as I have countlessly returned his wallet and phone to him after he abandoned them. So have other people. However he has misplaced two pairs of flip flops, a hoody and a hooded cardigan. So far it has been items that are easily replaceable!

My next surprise came when we visited the mall and bought the best curry I’ve had in Australia for dinner. It was beautiful. On the way back to the camp site we stopped off at a drive-thru bottle shop. We each bought a mixed fruit cider to accompany the tasty curry. It was a perfect evening meal.

A last minute decision was made to go to the cinema out of boredom. We hadn’t been to the cinema for such a long time. Hunger Games was the only film we knew that was out. We had a couple of hours before the showing and Mel chose this time to sort through her clothes. It was yet another culling session. About 70% of Mel’s clothes are newly bought here so you can imagine how hard it was to do this. I have no idea how Mel is going to get all her stuff home! Not that I can really talk! Checking in for my flight to New Zealand is going to be interesting!

*****

As I settled down on my air bed, I started to think about the next stop. I’ve heard brilliant things about Byron Bay so I was happily dreaming of how the next day might unfold. That was until our tent got attacked by screeching bats. It was an eerie moment as one after another flew into our tent. Ok, it wasn’t an attack per se. I don’t think the bats purposefully flew into our tent, but still…weird. I’m getting to witness a wide spectrum of the natural world in Australia and I’m not sure yet whether that’s a good thing!

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...Work

Top 5 Random Aussie Observations:

1. Certain items of clothing are optional here. Shirt, bra…even shoes. Seeing people walking around with no shoes on made me think of the times when I used to see people shopping in their pyjamas. It’s not banned or anything but it just looks weird.
2. There is no socially acceptable age limit as to when someone can stop using a scooter or skateboard.
3. Australians, like the Americans, have put their own little twist on the English language. Not only do they have weird pronunciations for certain words (get an Aussie to say croissant. I don’t know how I managed to stifle my laughter!*) but have made up words that make no sense. For instance, doona is a duvet.
4. I’m struggling to find Australia’s personality. Everything I see is either very American or very English. I can’t see anything that’s Australian. They even have the same problems as us (in England). Binge drinking, teacher strikes, increase in tuition fees, politician’s expenses scandals…and so on and so forth. Disappointing.
5. Everything seems to shut early. I’ve struggled to get a takeaway after 10pm and most (retail) shops close before 5pm. Nightmare.
   *This might be an observation unique to me. I have a thing about grammar and the English language as a whole. It’s not that I get the urge to correct everything and everyone. That would be silly. I’m not perfect myself! It’s just that certain instances like the incorrect use of a word, mispronunciation or purposeful spelling errors are like finger nails on a chalk board to me *shudders*

I was like Lionel Ritchie - Dancing On The Ceiling – for my first couple of days in Collaroy. I was reunited with my friends Mel and Steff, I had a dorm room to myself as nobody else had checked in, there was free breakfast, a bakery next door sells cake at knock down prices just before it closes, and I was surrounded by beaches. What could possibly go wrong?

Let’s just say my Lionel Ritchie bubble burst and I soon resembled Richard Ashcroft in the Bittersweet Symphony music video. It’s not good when everyone around you annoys the hell out of you and you can’t seem to make it stop!

My first frustrating moment came when looking for a job. I only had one contact, that could have possibly of lead to a job in Sydney, but that fell through straight away. Instead, I had to register with as many agencies as I could find in the hope that someone needed an administrator. What I didn’t realise is that my timing was off. I arrived just before the holiday season so generally temping goes quiet as everyone’s wrapping up for Christmas (no pun intended). Offices have extended holidays with some not opening until the middle of January. Another slow period ensues as offices recover and catch up on lost time. All-in-all, I had no chance of getting an office job. Thing is, I didn’t know this at the time so naively spent several dollars getting buses all over Sydney and registering with agencies that all gave the same chirpy yet non-committal speech about job availability.

I thought I struck gold when I joined an agency which worked with over 40 other recruitment agencies to find jobs for people. They told me that I would only be contacted if jobs were available. Instead I received several phone calls telling me that my CV had been passed to them and whether I wanted to register with them. So that was obviously a waste of time. It’s all I ever seemed to be doing. Filling out the same forms and listening to the same spiele. I have actually lost count at how many agencies I registered with but, to date, I’ve received no phone calls regarding a job and have subsequently had no interviews.

I gave it two weeks of registering, sending off cover letters and emails in response to online job listings and general pestering of friends of friends for job contacts in Australia. None of which actually got me anywhere. The weather reflected my mood and the torrential rain and wind meant that I was stuck indoors. I was surgically attached to my notebook and mobile phone and could usually be found sat eyeballing both devices in the TV room at the hostel. As everyone else who had jobs were out all day, I was surrounded by the stoners and leechers – people who generally did nothing all day. Is this what I have become?

Mel and Steff both had jobs which really put the pressure on me. Mel works as a waitress and Steff picks up labouring jobs that are advertised through the hostel. It’s admirable what they are doing seen as they came to Australia with nothing. Their original plan was to travel in Thailand for an extended period of time but changed their minds part way through and decided to work and live in Australia. Unfortunately they hadn’t quite budgeted for this. Once they paid for their flights, working visas and a rental car upon arrival, their finances had dwindled. But rather than sit around crying about it, they found a way to get by. That’s some act to follow!

In an effort to lift my spirits I went shopping. I know, I’m such a girl! I decided to buy some office wear in the hope that it would spur the hands of fate to follow suit (seriously, pun not intended!). It was then that I casted my eyes on the luxuries that I wanted to purchase once I had an income. The first item on my list was a bra. I have bras of course, but they’re travel ones. They’re actually pretty good but hardly flattering. I feel like I left my femininity back in England. I remember the look a guy gave me back in Japan and his words, “You should really show these things off,” echoed in my mind. I miss my wonderbra and all my pretty clothes and lingerie. Damn my capsule wardrobe!

The second extravagance on my list was a pair of trainers as I seriously needed to start running. My exercise to cake ratio is way off scale. I’m so unfit I practically wheeze just rolling out of bed. Everything’s such an effort. I don’t want to become what I hate the most!

As you can probably tell already, I didn’t end up getting an office job. My dreams of earning big money doing a job I know inside out were crushed. I had to settle for Plan B. Waitressing. Now I wouldn’t say I’m the worst waitress in the world, but it’s not exactly my strong point. In an office environment I can thrive as it often entails being left to your own devices. I may have a growing list of things to do as well as a busy switchboard and mounting emails to contend with, but I manage to not only do my job but (more importantly) keep everyone happy. Waitressing has similar stresses, especially the keeping-everyone-happy part. But rather than being left to my own devices, I have a captive audience in having the customers, manager and fellow waiting staff scrutinising everything I do. This brings out the nerves which in turn transforms me from outgoing, multi-tasking and commonsensical to a bumbling mess. Greeeeeat!

I had no choice though. I needed a job. Waitressing was my next option. Mel gave me some terrific advice about getting a waitressing job.

1. If you decide to drop off your resume/CV in person, make sure you dress like you’re ready to work.
2. If you decide to call and enquire about a job, choose a time that’s late in the evening (between 8pm and 10pm). At this point, the restaurant will either be busy but manageable or just quietening down after a mad-rush. Either way, the manager will know at that point in the day whether they could use more staff. They’ll be more likely to be enthusiastic and might even ask you to come in for a trial the next night.

I’m all about the lists today! I made a list of restaurants and phone numbers in Dee Why and Narrabeen which are two areas close to Collaroy. The first place I called had no vacancies, the second place sounded encouraging and asked me to drop in my CV and the third place said the same but said to come in for an interview. Although this sounded promising already, Mel told me to keep ringing places for back-up options. I called one more restaurant and was asked to come in for a trial the following evening. Awesome.

The “interview” was more of a brief introduction and a trial was arranged for the next morning. My evening trial at the other restaurant was a disaster. I was briefed about the restaurant setup in around 5 minutes. After this time the manager talked to one of the waitresses about her boy problems. I felt really awkward so stood behind the bar twiddling my thumbs. Obviously rule number one in waitressing is to always be doing something. If there is literally nothing to do, then LOOK like you’re doing something! As there were no customers yet I thought I was safe.

I was given three tables to look after. This restaurant works in sections which was what I was used to. Unfortunately, I had no pin for the till so could only take orders. I then had no idea what the other waitresses had done with my tables. I had no idea whether people had ordered drinks, nor did I know what dishes each person was having. This left me in a quandary as I had no idea what cutlery needed handing out and ended up going back on myself by asking people whether they’d like to order something to drink. As it was so busy, all the girls were zipping by doing their own thing. It was very frustrating.

The next fruitless task was serving food but I had no idea what each dish was so that lead to a couple of mistakes. By this point I felt useless. A wise thing to have done would be to either have me shadow someone or put me on running so I could get used to the table numbers and dishes. Instead, I was told to look after 3 tables without a till login and to keep up with the obvious lack of communication in that place. I felt like an idiot and the staff there treated me as such. I left the restaurant and tried to hold it together. I was told I’d receive a call the next day to let me know how I got on. I knew full well I wouldn’t have gotten the job. I didn’t even get a phone call!

I was determined not to be a failure at my next trial. This time round I was coupled with one of the waitresses and she explained everything and I mean everything. There is a rule for every task possible in that place which suited me just fine. Communication was clear and, although there were no sections, there was still a steady flow to proceedings. After just an hour of work, I was told I could have a job. Wahey! The pay isn’t as good as my friend Mel’s and I feel invisible in that place when it comes to making friends but it’s bringing in money and that’s all that matters right now.