The Only Way Is Vegas

Have you ever sat and watched someone struggle to set up the DVD player or fail to find the right drop down menu on the television? If you’re like me, you stir and itch with impatience. Sometimes it’s quicker to just do things yourself. Alone, you can take control and steer yourself in the right direction. Victory or failure, it’s on your terms. When somebody else is in charge you have no choice but to sit and watch as things play out.

On an organised tour it’s not as simple as snatching a remote off your nonplussed counterpart. When things aren’t working out, you’re powerless. It’s not something I ever thought I’d have to think about whilst on a tour. The reason why I booked it is so someone who has traversed America more times than I’ve had cooked dinners can take charge whilst I sit back and relax. Not having to worry about maps and navigation is a huge weight off the mind. Unfortunately, when things go wrong you’re screwed. At least when you’re out there on your own you can be more proactive and usually end up with a funny story to entertain future drinking buddies.

Alas, I still managed to get lost but we’ll get to that soon. There was still a long long long journey before we caught a glimpse of Vegas.

After listening to Pearl Jam's extensive collection among other mixed CDs Ken owned, I took over as resident DJ. Opening up my limited music library was probably a step down but at least the music was different. As usual everyone fell straight asleep anyway so there was no fear of mutiny.

A short while later it was time for our first tourist stop, the delightful Bedrock City. For a few dollars we got to run around like idiots and take silly photos.

Back on the road again, it was time for our second and final stop off at old Route 66. This time the roadside cafe Delgadillos was open. We all ordered milkshakes and each got a dose of zany fun from the server. For instance, I was asked if I wanted a straw...wait for this...you'll crack up...the server passed me a handful of straw. You know, straw, like what horses eat. Tim Vine would be proud.

Coach loads of tourists were flooding the area so we didn't hang about too long. We boarded the bus and headed straight to Vegas.

Entering Las Vegas by day gave our eyes a bit of a rest from the beaming lights and famous neon signs. Instead, we were greeted with giant billboards advertising lawyers who specialise in divorces juxtaposed with chapel invitations. Even if I was insanely drunk, I can't see myself getting married. With that thought in mind, Ken jokingly recommended that we note down the number "just in case". He added that he's had people get married in Vegas during his tour but he's never had a baby in the mix. There would be a reward for the person who shows up with a baby the next day. I think someone's been watching The Hangover too many times.

We seemed to be nearing Las Vegas Boulevard so, the legendary DJ that I was, I sat poised with my finger hovering over the play button. "Bright light city gonna set my soul, gonna set my soul on fire." Yes people, Elvis is in the minibus!

Cut to the tenth time of playing the song and we were done with Elvis. Where the heck are we? Nobody knew. I must be some sort of jinx. I know I get lost all the time but I guess I can lead others into the same fate too. Travelling has helped me learn so much about myself and my own capabilities.

At first Ken hid behind the music and looked in control. As time marched on, we all realised what was happening. I kept picturing the scene from Romy and Michele's High School Reunion (don't judge me. It's a perfect fluffy movie). When they drive off to Tucson? No? Aw come on!

For the first time, Ken looked stressed out. Hurling a few swear words at the road vented some of his frustrations at least. We knew we were in trouble when his fellow tour guide friend rang him and asked where we were. The original plan was to rock up at our hotel, go out for something to eat, get glammed up and board a party bus. The tour guide that called was with his group who we'd be joining later. They travelled south from San Francisco.

We eventually arrived and it was only Ken who seemed to be bothered by this. I was slightly vexed only because I was hungry. Ken rushed in to collect our room keys.

Hearing that I had a room to myself, I tried to hide my elation. We all got ready whilst Ken sorted food. By some miracle, I managed to make myself look presentable in around 10 minutes. I should keep that a guarded secret really as it might be used against me at a later date. Some people just don't understand the process of getting ready to go out. It's meant to take a while, it's all part of the fun.

Moving on...my room seemed to be the hub of the evening's proceedings. My room was massive. I had two double beds, a kitchenette, en suite facilities and a TV. Everyone burst in whilst I was watching Man Vs. Food. I was enjoying that!

Ken continued to beat himself up for delaying our arrival and we sympathised. But carrying around that guilt didn't make him the winner of the 'Sucks To Be You' prize. One of our poor passengers had lost their case. It wasn't in the trailer when we arrived in Las Vegas. To this day, I still don't know what happened to it. Perhaps a crafty tourist poached it at our last stop. The thought of that happening to me sent shivers down my spine. Lucky for me my bag weighs a flipping tonne. I'd like to see someone try and run away with my case!

Sitting down to eat the pizza Ken brought across for us, I noticed that I was a tad overdressed. Everyone else erred on the casual side so I stuck out like a sore thumb.

Despite running late, we were the first ones on the bus. It looked awesome inside and out. 

Music was playing and drinks were flowing. Unfortunately I'm not going to cue a photo montage akin to the credits of The Hangover, but I will admit I had to look back at them to retrace my steps.

From what I can see, I had a good night. I thought I remembered most of it but upon reflection, perhaps not. I spent most of the night with a few guys from the other group. It was rather funny seeing them board the bus. Each guy resembled a horny Terminator sizing up each female specimen, tallying the stats. Drink had dumbed it down to a hot or not categorisation. Their targets had been acquired as they casually sat right by us. Sensing that we weren't completely trashed, they played it cool. I chose to stay aloof from the situation and watched events unfold. Let's just say, it's not only male backpackers who are out for what they can get!

At that moment I had an overwhelming desire to dance. Two metal poles were strategically positioned at either end of the bus. These came in handy for regulating my balance. They were obviously there for people to hold on to so they don't fall over...ahem.

By this point I must have been tipsy as I sashayed up to a handsome dark haired guy. I was more interested in the blue sequined trilby he was wearing. I busted a few moves and, in my eyes at the time, stealthily apprehended the pretty shiny object. I felt that I pulled it off. Mission accomplished, I sashayed off.

Moments later a few girls asked me how I managed to get the hat as they'd been trying all night. Apparently it's a lucky hat or something. I shrugged and carried on dancing. I managed to keep hold of the hat until it came to departing the bus and therefore gamble the night away. I didn't want to stand in the way of a guy and his lucky charm.

My night consisted of a light/water show at the Bellagio, watching a bit of TV on Fremount Street, having photos taken at the welcome sign and doing a spot of casino hopping. Gambling was involved at some point too but that died out pretty quickly. I wasn't feeling lucky and I didn't want to gamble my remaining dollars away and be left homeless. I have no idea what order those events transpired in but I do have remnants of memories from each. There are some things I'm happy to remember and others, not so much (the weirdest kiss I've ever had comes to mind).

 

Fremount Street

Ooooo, aaaaahh

Somehow I managed to rip my dress in the taxi. No, it wasn't in some heated sexual tryst. My life doesn't resemble an episode of Sex and the City. It got caught on the seat belt. Embarrassed and a little upset (it was one of only two dresses I own), I trudged up to my room. I stumbled about muttering nonsense. I remember Ken calling me to check that I was still alive and I think I passed out as the next thing I remember was waking up and seeing daylight...eugh.

You Booze, You Lose?

Rest and relaxation was my mission which I endeavoured to fulfil throughout my island hopping escapades. My first day certainly ticked all the boxes but something was niggling at me. It had been over a week since I’d touched my blog. I’d not written a thing other than a few concise bullet lists. This was unexpected. I thought my brain would be thankful for the free head-space.

This may sound unusual but there are times when I get a real buzz for writing. The feeling can develop after a new idea pops into my head or it just appears out of nowhere. Like a sudden rush of blood to the head, I get this revitalising feeling and I need to put pen to paper…or in most cases, fingers to a keyboard. I’ve sat for hours typing away with some bursts resulting in a few thousand words of waffle. It’s also a satisfying feeling. Once everything is uploaded and I read over what I’ve produced, a surge of doubt comes over me. Did I really write that? It’s a similar experience I felt whilst writing my dissertation or any essay really.

As cheesy as it sounds, when I write, it’s like a part of me cascades from my fingertips onto the page. Perhaps musicians and song writers feel the same. Not that I’m comparing myself to John Lennon or anything but the mind-set could be similar. I wouldn’t know, I have no musical ability whatsoever unfortunately. It’s this reasoning that substantiates my surprise and consequent doubt as to whether these words are mine. Most of the “stuff” that comes out of my mouth is pure waffle that needs sifting through by a patient ear. The fact that I can form constructive sentences that seemingly make sense is a welcome relief. I’d like to think that I’d come back to my entries at a later point in my life and understand what the heck happened to me. It’s easy to forget the path you went down once the resolution has unfolded.

Ironically, I am waffling on now. To sum up, I missed writing. A lot. Getting back to my movements for the day...

My island hopping package includes activities – yes, I am lazy. I was set to embark on a boat trip to some places I wasn’t too sure of but would end with a stop at the Castaway Island. Yes, THE Castaway Island from the Tom Hanks’ film Castaway. I wanted to find Wilson’s hideout.

My quest was not a solo effort as I took to the ocean with a fellow traveller from South Sea Island, Reto. I’d not really spoken to him before but had faint memories of shamelessly ogling him as he strode out of the ocean onto the beach front. Daniel Craig has got some competition. Hey, there is no harm in looking, sheesh!

Unbeknownst to Reto, I was just some random backpacker to befriend. There was nobody else from the island going so he had no choice, he was stuck with me. I think we were both thankful for that fact as there didn’t seem to be anybody on the boat that was social.

Making fun of the common peace sign gesture. Although mine looks like bunny ears. Fail!

We briefly spoke to a Polish couple who assumed Reto was German (he’s Swiss) so had a dig at him. It was funny seeing their embarrassment when he revealed his nationality. Dicks.

One very big plus point to this trip was that all drinks were included. By all drinks, I mean beer. Not only this, but workers came around with platters of cake. See, sometimes dreams can come true!

Shortly, we reached our main spot at the Castaway Island.

Where is Wilson!?!?!

This is what greeted me behind a rock on the beach. Gross!

Our hunt for Wilson had failed. He’d obviously been kidnapped by an overexcited tourist. Instead, Reto and I took to the ocean for some snorkelling. Pretty standard stuff but I captured videos nonetheless.

We returned to the boat for a lovely barbecue lunch and moved on to another island for a village visit.

Kava ceremony

A wheelchair...Fiji style!

It was funny seeing a tourist's viewpoint. The kava ceremony was traditional of course but the serving was minuscule. The guys weren’t even given low tide. It was more like the dregs at the bottom of the bowl. Maybe they don’t think tourists can handle the stuff.

Villagers called out for volunteers but I was still recovering from the last batch. I thought I best leave it to some people who haven’t experienced it before.

As we left and made our way back to the boat, we walked past a series of stalls. Homemade crafts and jewellery adorned a seemingly endless row of tables. All the money goes back to the village, that I know already, but still, I don’t really have enough room for more trinkets. As I said this, a Miss-Know-It-All from the boat protested and attempted to guilt-trip me. As my good friends in Australia would say, “Pipe down!” Of course I didn’t say that…but I wanted to. Instead, I listened to her drone on about how she’s experienced the “real Fiji” and was surprised that everybody was reluctant to try the kava. Miss-Know-It-All would have tried it herself but she’s had too much already. Eugh.

Cheers! A quick drink before we get back on the boat

Reto and I downed as many beers as we could before we headed back to South Sea Island. We didn’t have a lot time so we took an extra one for the road.

Feeling a little woozy, we transferred across to the main ferry. Reto was going back to the mainland while I had another night back at South Sea Island.

As I finished my final beer courtesy of the Seaspray, Reto disappeared. It might have been the beer, but I felt really happy at that moment. Despite the failure of not finding Wilson, I’d had a good day. Reto had been great company and we found many of the funnies. There was the odd awkward moment – like when I asked him about his tattoo as I thought it was a symbol but it turned out to be the initials of his name and his ex-girlfriend's name. Whoops!

We swapped stories about our travels and our war wounds. Reto’s scar stories made mine seem feeble. In fact, all of his stories were rather impressive. How can I compete with a guy who has been in the Swiss army AND represented his country in gymnastics? All I’ve done is flounced around the world for a year and before that I did bugger all.

Momentarily, Reto returned with two beers. He handed me one and explained that the minimum charge to a card is $30 (Fijian). I didn’t quite follow until he laughed and said that he bought six beers so he could charge it to his card.

Chatter, chatter, drink, drink, Reto disappears and returns with another beer and repeat.

I can never get sick of sunsets

It is safe to say that I stumbled and giggled back onto South Sea Island after hugging Reto goodbye. I wish Reto returned with me as I didn’t recognise anybody back on the island. A handful of new people had arrived earlier in the day.

No wait…Elvis was still there. No this isn’t the beer talking, there was actually somebody there called Elvis. Everyone else was a mystery.

Introductions were brief as I attempted to bond with people over dinner. It was kind of difficult seen as the fish was so dry. I was chewing on one piece for 10 minutes. My jaw certainly had a workout. It was more of a warm-up as I was on top form drunkenly bending everyone’s ears with my nonsense. Nobody humoured me unfortunately. I grew bored as did they.

A British girl – Emma – seemed amused for a while but I think she was just being polite. I decided to head to my room and leave everyone to it. I missed my friends Mel and Steff so much. They loved the drunken me. Apparently it’s hilarious! I don’t get it of course.

My day of sailing, snorkelling and beer swilling had petered out to an evening of film watching. Rock and roll indeed.

Saving The Planet One Shower At A Time

My previous stay in Queenstown was action packed by day and pungent by night. This time around I checked into the Sanctuary room and planned on doing as little as possible in order to save money.

It was more like a semi-sanctuary as the room was no bigger, there was no TV, no table and chairs or tea and coffee and the towel was not fluffy. The showers were just like the rest in the hostel, timed. Who came up with that invention? Why would anybody think that releasing water from the shower for a set amount of time would change anything? I still end up pressing it again to get more water to come out. Nobody has a one minute shower. You’re not being environmentally friendly, you’re being a pain in the arse!! End rant.

The girls (from the night before) planned on going up to the viewpoint and luge but I missed them as they weren’t in their room when I went up. A definite shun but I didn’t take it to heart. I didn’t know them very well and I am easily forgotten.

I was tempted to go skiing again but decided against it. Instead, I’ll wait for a moment in the future where I can go out for a few days and learn properly. I’ve met so many ski instructors and snow lovers that finding someone to help me out shouldn’t be a problem.

Hannah and Kerry were both in Queenstown still. I randomly bumped into Hannah one night. I’d been keeping up to date with her skiing feats on Facebook. Our ability levels are at polar opposites. Hannah was awesome at it and stayed on in Queenstown to keep learning. I didn’t manage to meet up with Hannah before I left but we’re both heading to Fiji and America at similar times so I hope it’s not the last that I see of her.

Kerry was easier to pin down and we spent a night catching up and talking about our future travel plans, boys and our general outlooks on life. Our ponderings were rudely interrupted by a very strange guy who thought that telling us how much money he makes and how much sex he gets would woo us. I was polite and tried to subtly tell him to bugger off. Kerry’s patience had worn thin and told him straight that we wish to be left alone.

Meeting Kerry was as social as I got for my first couple of nights. Just like in Wanaka, I had the room to myself for two out of the three nights I was there so I took advantage of having some space. On my third night I moved to another dorm. I needn’t have worried as there were only two other guys occupying the dorm and they were lovely and clean too! The shower was shockingly bad though. The water ran for three seconds (I counted) and shut off again. What the f…?

Diego from Uruguay and Anibal from Chile were very friendly and chatty. They poked fun at my laziness despite the fact that they were as bad as me!

Leaving everything to the last day was not a good idea as I was crippled with stomach cramps. I’m not sure if it was something that I ate or just a random bug. I planned on spending the day in Arrowtown but decided to try and sleep it off.

Disappointed that I was wasting my day, I tackled the walk up to the viewpoint in Queenstown. It was a lot tougher than I thought it was going to be. I was sweating a lot and had to have a minute break every so often. Whenever people walked past me I tried my best not to look like I was suffering. I managed to make it in a good time though so I can’t be that bad.

Thanks to the advice from a fellow bus passenger, I stayed to watch Queenstown light up.  

Queenstown by day...

...and by night. Is it bad that I could spot Fergburger from this high up?

It was a fantastic view and worth the agonising walk. I walked around for a bit and watched a couple of people do the ledge bungy. The drop is minuscule compared to the Nevis but the process of jumping off a ledge in itself is scary stuff.

Tickets are only checked at the bottom of the gondola so I cheekily travelled down unnoticed. I didn’t fancy a walk down the beaten track in the dark.

As a reward for my efforts, I treated myself to a farewell Fergburger. Three burgers in around a week isn’t bad at all. Some have three in 24 hours. I bumped into Neil and Simone while I was waiting for my burger. It turns out they’ll be hopping on the bus tomorrow too so at least there’ll be some familiar faces.

Back at the hostel, I started talking to two Irish girls who had checked in before I went out for my walk. I gave them my perspective of New Zealand. 

Jodie and Kate were so easy to talk to and there was never that awkward silence when nobody knows what else to say. Diego and Anibal are still learning English and sometimes they had no idea what I was saying. I helped them learn a few words though.

I planned on spending my last night packing my bag and catching an early night. That was until the Irish brought out the goon. We started with drinking games and then joined Diego, Anibal and his friends in the kitchen. The hostel has a curfew on drinking so it was back to the room for dancing and more drinking.

Overall, it was a very random night. I think there was something in the water as the guys could not keep their hands off of me...literally. My roommates and the guys at pool were very grabby. On the one side I was called beautiful and on the other, a guy tried to guess my bra size. When would that ever work? Oh my, you know the size of my boobs, what a man!!

He was wrong anyway but he tried to convince me otherwise waffling on about how the majority of women don’t know their true bra size. Hold up ladies, don’t measure yourself, get a drunken kiwi to get your true bra size.

It came as a relief that I managed to find a local that isn’t very nice (to put it politely). I was beginning to think this place was a little too perfect.

My evening ended with me pushing out one of the guys’ friends as he tried to kidnap me. He’d already failed to get with Jodie so he resorted to desperate measures. I managed to shove him out whilst everyone else was spark out in bed. Thanks for the help!

What a night, what a crazy-assed night. It was a shame I wouldn’t get to spend longer with Kate and Jodie but perhaps, for my own safety, it’s best that I move on.

A Touch Of Luxury

Unlike other places I’ve visited in New Zealand, I left Franz Josef satisfied. I did what I went there to do and had a great time. I was also looking forward to hopping off the bus and having a break in Wanaka.

Before we reached our final destination, we stopped off at Lake Matheson for a walk. It was a three hour trail but Hannah, Kerry and I were certain that it could be done in two. We briskly walked through the winding route taking photos along the way.

At one point we noticed a camera lens cover abandoned on a wooden bench. We felt bad for whoever had left it as it’s not something that’s easily replaced whilst travelling. It was at our next viewpoint where we met a guy (later to be nicknamed Hannah’s Future Husband) who it belonged to. After hovering for a little too long, we moved on. HFH had split apart from his group and had positioned his tripod on higher grounds. With a crushed flapjack in one hand, HFH took photos of the stunning view. Hannah became flustered with her camera but not to worry as her future husband helped her capture a great image. HFH was a hot topic as we power walked the rest of the way. Apparently a guy who squishes a flapjack in his hand without a care in the world whilst taking photographs is a great turn on for some.

Conversations with the girls on the bus tended to transcend in to Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus…literally as one of the girls is reading that book (I won’t name names, it’s not me!). I detest books that tell women how they should act around men. Surely both parties should learn how to compromise and work together without manipulation and game playing. I can never be arsed with all that rubbish as it’s too much hard work!

We were the first ones back and decided to treat ourselves to some lovely grub at the café. I had an epic sausage, egg and crispy bacon sandwich with tomato relish. It was that good that I groaned with almost every mouthful. I didn’t have room for my raspberry and white chocolate muffin so kept it for the bus journey.

I was the only one hopping off at Wanaka which astonished some. I wasn’t sure if it was the fear of missing out, but a lot of people kept asking me why I wasn’t leaving the next day like everyone else. I’d heard from a friend back home that Wanaka is beautiful, I was hoping to meet a friend I made in Bangkok and I couldn’t wait to part ways with the bus. Obviously I didn’t say the last part. I did get on with a few people on the bus but those lovely people were lost within the awful mass of annoyingness that was taking over. I’d not had a break from Stray since Rotorua and I felt like I was overdue.

The whole bus stayed at Base hostel that night. I’d pre-booked my room online for a knock-down price. I was very happy with myself for doing this. Even though Stray get a certain amount of rooms blocked off for passengers only, it didn’t faze me that I would be staying elsewhere.

Kerry, who recommended I book online, had done the same and we asked if it was possible to stay in the same room. Unfortunately the rooms are randomly allocated so that was not possible. My disappointment soon transformed into dizzying excitement as I was told I’d be staying in the Sanctuary. I had no idea what that meant but it sounded good.

The receptionist handed me a white fluffy towel. It was a nice touch. I asked if anyone else was booked in the room and was told I’d have it to myself for three nights. Happy days!

I entered my room and my jaw dropped. My eyes lit up at the sight of a ridiculously large room, a table with chairs, a kettle, tea and coffee. Attached to the wall was a flat screen TV. I actually jumped up and down on the spot and squealed. You may laugh but try travelling for over nine months and see how you react to fresh linen, open space and a room to yourself!

Although I had my white fluffy towel, I could not for the life of me find where the showers and toilets were on my floor. I was too embarrassed to ask the staff so grabbed Kerry who is a seasoned sleeper at Base. Kerry followed me to my room and shared my excitement. Kerry had stayed in a Sanctuary room on the north island so knew exactly how I felt. Within seconds, Kerry found the showers and toilets…in my room! I bypassed the mirror which happened to be fixed onto a door. Behind this door were two spotless showers and two floral-smelling toilet cubicles. Ohhhhh yeeeeeah.

Now if THAT wasn’t enough, Kerry told me that there should be some hair straighteners around somewhere. It turns out you can put a bond down for a pair at reception. I’d not straightened my hair in a long time as my GHDs broke in Australia.

I felt no shame in bragging about my room and invited some of the girls over. Hannah and Sam came over and ate their dinner whilst I pranced around to random music off of my laptop. I offered my facilities to Kerry as I owe my little luxury pad to her.

As it was my last night with this bus…well mainly because I had hair straighteners, I decided to glam up for the night. I knew exactly what I was going to wear.

One wonderful shower later and I was ready to don my short blue dress I bought from Australia and first wore to see Laura Marling. My smile dropped when I saw my legs. Shit, I forgot about my bruise collection. My left knee was a patchwork of blues and greens accompanied by a scab thanks to my fall at Blue Duck lodge. On the back of my leg sat a huge red-veined nastiness from my tanking adventures. Dammit. I knew it was going to be dark in the bar, but no amount of soft lighting could hide those monstrosities.

Kerry suggested I wore leggings with it but it wouldn’t look as good. I wanted to look all girly and human again rather than the frizzy mess I’ve become since leaving Australia. I settled for my maxi dress in the end and hoped that I looked just as nice.

The answer to that question came in a form of a compliment as soon as I left the room. One of the guys from the bus said I looked really nice. It’s been a while since I’ve had a seemingly genuine compliment from a guy. I felt really good.

That feeling grew throughout the night. I managed to get in on a game of pool and potted three balls in a row which caught us up to the opposing team who only had the black to pot. Nobody had seemed to notice what I’d done. I had one more shot which I should have just fluffed. Instead, I potted the black. Everyone certainly noticed that! I felt like an idiot. Jim, my pool partner, hugged me although I'm sure he'd rather of kicked me.

Battle of the buses was my chance to make up for this loss. Kiwi Experience, Magic and Stray in one room. Only one would be hailed champion. I wanted that title.

My competitiveness subsided as the quiz was so long-winded. Most of the questions were about the Queen’s Jubilee. I now know that Buckingham Palace holds 775 rooms, Elizabeth was 25 when she took the throne and she has 5 dogs.

At one point we were in the lead but the Kiwi bus had a smart phone and were cheating their way to victory (boooo hissss!). We faired ok at the karaoke but didn’t stand a chance in the dance off. Kiwi had a guy who could back flip and do the splits as well as a girl who could breakdance. I got up all the same as the first challenge was to copy the dance moves to Eric Prydz Call On Me. Everyone must remember the crotch thrusts right? I tried in vain but my maxi dress kept getting in the way when it came to the kicks and rolling around on the floor.

Never mind. We left Kiwi to their victory and $100 bar tab. A couple of people from our bus sneakily went to the bar to claim a free drink. They didn’t even check! I wasn’t that fussed and sat down beside the pool table. I got chatting to a couple of people from the bus who I’d not spoken to before. Seana from Chicago was especially lovely. We spoke about our travels and plans for the future. I gave her my email address for a possible meet-up when I reach Chicago. Seana even offered me her couch to sleep on. I’ve not couchsurfed in a while but I might have to in America depending on how much money I have left!

I also spoke to another American for a while before spending the rest of the night chatting away to Jim and Chris (both British). This surprised me as they weren’t as chatty when I first met them. It turns out, Jim’s first impression of me wasn’t a good one. After the pool table orgy at Franz Josef, I didn’t really approach the guys as I thought the territory had been marked by the girls. Jim especially, was always with one particular girl from the bus so I left them to it. Jim mistook my avoidance as a dislike towards him and his mate. It also turns out that my pre-judgement of Jim was also off. So I went back to kicking myself again!

Having talked Jim’s ear off earlier in the night, I thought his brain had switched off for the most part. I do have a habit of going off on a tangent regardless of whether a person is actually interested in hearing what I have to say. When we spoke again, it turned out he was listening (a rare trait in a guy). It annoyed me slightly how well I got on with some of the people on the bus that I originally avoided. It wasn’t so much of a regret that I’d change my mind and hop back on the bus though. I’d need a bit more than a few random conversations with people for me to do that!

For once, I was one of the last people out that night. Everyone departed pretty quickly after the battle ended. It was quite sad saying goodbye to some people from the bus. Perhaps I might see some of them in Queenstown but others I may never see again.

It was this thought that shifted my mood slightly. Although travelling has made me the happiest I’ve ever been, I do have my down days and this was one of them. I missed my friends back home and started to think about all the people I’ve had to say goodbye to whilst travelling. I offloaded onto poor Jim who had no idea what to say to me. I think he thought I was going to cry or something! Only an hour or so beforehand I was wittering on about how wonderful travelling is, the changes that I’ve seen in myself and how great it’s been to meet so many people. Talk about Jekyll and Hyde!

I’ll add that to the scrapbook of embarrassment to open up at a later date for self-torture! To be fair, I have done and said far worse in front of guys so this is nothing really.

I will say this though, I am extremely grateful for the people that I have met. For once in my life I’ve felt completely at ease with who I am. I have been myself and not only have I been accepted, but I’ve made some wonderful friends who like me for me. Throughout my life I’ve always tried to please everyone else to my own detriment. It’s meant that I’ve never really known whether I’m being me or if I’m just being someone that I think everyone would like. I always found it hard saying no which sometimes people took advantage of. It’s so refreshing to find people who are on the same wavelength as me.

In regards to guys, it’s a mixed bag. On the one hand, I’m meeting guys that I’ll probably never see again so if I do make an arse of myself I don’t need to worry too much. However, if it turns out that I like a guy then…well it’s just plain rubbish. Most travellers are randy and are only out for whatever they can get. I’m not one to normally generalise but it’s a heavy percentage that are this way. So any guy that I do meet and is friendlier than normal, I often wonder whether they are being nice to me because they like me or whether they just want a quick fumble in a crowded dorm room to satisfy their cravings. Some men can say the right things at the right time and it confuses me. Guys say that they never know what women are thinking and that we talk in riddles. Sometimes guys can be just as cryptic.

I've not really thought about a future with a guy too much whilst I've been travelling as I never saw it as a plausible outcome. I really want to travel more and work where I can. It just makes me wonder whether I’d ever be able to make a true connection that way.

When I’m home and things go wrong with a guy, there is no quick exit like there is with travelling. But then when it does go right, the likelihood is that it isn’t transitory and I may get my happily ever after.

Most of you know by now that I am a hopeless romantic. I watch far too many movies and have read numerous books where women can be completely ridiculous yet still have a guy chasing after them. Now wouldn’t that be a perfect world to live in?

I would like to meet someone one day who likes me for me and isn’t afraid to show that. Nevertheless, I’m not willing to shape my life around something that’s not there so I will follow my heart to wherever in the world it takes me. Having someone there next to me can be the icing on the cake.

Outnumbered

Today was going to be a big day as we travelled from Punakaiki to Franz Josef. Our small bus group trebled as we picked up 14 people at Greymouth. Fresh faces are always a good thing when travelling.

My excitement soon turned to angst as some rude Americans took to the bus. Instead of introducing themselves they grilled me about New Zealand but not in a friendly way. I felt like I was on trial. Question after question, interspersed with ignorant observations. They sneered at me when I told them I was doing a full day hike in Fox rather than the Franz Josef heli-hike. It was at that point that I tried my very best to avoid them. I’ve met so many lovely Americans so my negativity isn’t aimed towards the country, just those awful people!

Each person on the bus introduced themselves and I could see there were some interesting people on the bus. The hostel that we stayed at had a bar/restaurant which provided the perfect opportunity to get to know people.

Being lazy, I decided to eat out. I didn’t have anything interesting to eat and the food at the bar looked delicious. A group of us sat down next to two guys who turned out to be Franz Josef guides. They said that the heli-hike the next day would definitely not happen. I wasn’t sure if the weather would affect my hike but I was worried.

Outside and within the dorm areas people from the Kiwi and Contiki bus were partying hard yet the bar was rather laid back. The music was mellow enough to carry a conversation at a normal volume. Everyone was eating, drinking and having a good time.

Tia bought everyone a shot of peach vodka. It was meant to be a synchronised downing by the Stray lot but it didn’t quite happen to the dismay of Kerry. The wine had gone straight to her head, enough for her to shout a few choice expletives at the Americans. Damn, I wish they had heard her. I was happy I did as I was in hysterics.

My intentions for the evening were to get to know the people on the bus. It was somewhat interrupted by the intentions of everyone else from the bus. The girls pounced on the guys and they loved it. I laughed from the side-lines.

Although I didn’t want to tread on anyone’s toes or interrupt someone’s game plan, I was bored. I managed to get in on a game of pool but only managed to get a fluent conversation from one friendly American guy. The rest seemed to be in a trance and all I could get was a one or two word response. This bus did not look promising. I guess I could have joined in but my hair is an untameable frizzy mess since my hair straighteners failed on me in Brisbane and I was wearing my glasses. I looked like a frumpier version of the Princess Diaries…before the makeover. So hair flicking and eye flutters were out of the question. I drank some more and called it a night. I needed to get some rest before my hike the next day.

Well Hello There...

Sometimes getting a good night’s sleep is impossible. At home, the only thing that would keep me up is my whirring mind ticking over numerous annoying thoughts. Dorm life has provided me with a whole host of different distractions that attack my ears and nostrils. Ear plugs aren’t enough anymore so my next line of defence is my mp3 player. I plug that in and ramp up the volume. I’d much prefer to drift off to the soothing sounds of Elbow and Laura Marling than the thumping base outside or the snorers in the room. I haven’t come up with anything to battle the varying smells just yet. Suggestions would be welcome.

The toga party spilled into the surrounding dorms and it was the loudest night I’ve experienced. I’m never that bothered unless I have an early morning. Everyday seems to be an early morning for me in New Zealand. It’s a new experience!

Liz and I got a taxi with Kerry, a fellow Brit from the bus who I hadn’t spoken to that much, to the ferry terminal. I slept most of the way and only stirred when a couple sat down behind me and violently knocked my chair. I received a feeble apology but I couldn’t understand why they chose to sit right behind me when the room was pretty deserted. I might have said something if I was more awake. I treated myself to some pancakes instead.

We got picked up shortly after arriving in Picton. To our surprise there were only five others on the bus – a couple and three other girls. I guess this will give me a good chance to test Mambo’s theory.

Passing through Picton, we stopped off in Nelson for a wine tasting session. It only cost $2.  I didn’t like any of the wines. They were too potent for me. Obviously that’s a quality that many people like in an alcoholic beverage but I prefer to enjoy what I drink. Yep, I’m definitely turning into a pensioner.

Liz hopped off just outside Abel Tasman. We hugged and wished each other luck in our future travels.

Old Macdonald’s Farm conjures up memories of primary school assembly sing-songs but it turns out Old Macdonald does have a farm and it’s in Abel Tasman. It’s where we stayed for two nights. The setup was basic and the beds were awful but it wasn’t the worst place I’ve stayed at.

I decided to have an early night in anticipation of a kayaking and bush walk trip the next day.

*****

Waking up was hard…literally. The bed was so sunken it was practically a hammock. I couldn’t simply roll out of bed. I had to swing out like Tarzan. If that wasn’t enough to wake me up, a hairy spider crawled onto my foot. My squeal woke up the other girls. I kicked it off my foot and it scurried away. My skin crawled and I couldn’t stop shuddering. It felt like it was still on me. It was that point that I decided to shake out my boots to make sure I wasn’t greeted with any more surprises that morning.

It was yet another day where my bikini saw the light of day. It feels like I’ve been in the water more in New Zealand than in Australia!

We all packed on the layers to protect ourselves from the cold. I didn’t take any photos of me in a wetsuit. I have too many already!

As Hannah, my paddling partner, and I loaded up our kayak, our eyes diverted to another group preparing to leave. I’m pretty sure a chorus of harps, violins and flutes filled the air when this one guy walked by. Our hearts sighed. He wasn’t the first nor has he been the last ridiculously good looking guy I've seen in New Zealand. I thought my first couple of days in Melbourne were something to talk about but…damn!

This vision of beauty happened to drive us to the beach where we were to set off on our kayak trip.

Hannah is a physiotherapist and is a very athletically capable person. Although I’m not as fit as I was back home, I felt like I could handle myself on the water. That was until we ended up with a duff kayak.

Each kayak has a paddle on the back which leans left or right and guides your direction. The back seat of the kayak has peddles at the bottom which control this. Pressing down the right, moves it to the right and pressing the left moves it to the left. It’s a lazy way of guiding the kayak.

Whilst everyone else paddled haphazardly and others calmly with ease, Hannah and I looked like we were competing for the Olympics, yet we weren’t moving anywhere. We kept veering off to the right.

Our guide, John, came over to help and adjusted the peddles. I knew it wasn’t my driving! It was then that I got to speak to John a bit more in depth and found out that he’d lived and worked in York for 18 months and has spent time in London. I love meeting people who have visited my hometown. John’s not accustomed to city life so retreated back to New Zealand.

Despite John’s efforts, our kayak still didn’t work. Nobody took pity on us and everyone paddled off. We couldn’t hear anything that John was saying and I was concentrating so hard on paddling and steering the kayak that I didn’t get to fully enjoy the scenery and the beautiful weather.

As always, I didn't pack for the sun and forgot my sunglasses. It was still cold yet the sun beamed down on us. New Zealand has the perfect weather in my eyes. It's cold so you have to wrap up and be all cosy yet the day is incredibly bright and clear. It deceives you into thinking it's not that cold. It's only as you rush out and feel the cold snapping at your face that you realise that it's still winter. The air is so fresh it feels like a natural decongestant and so much so that it must be the cleanest air I've ever breathed in. I'd be happy if every day was like this.

John kindly let me borrow his hat. It topped off my already superbly sexy look. An over-sized flannel cap that kept slipping over my eyes wasn't the perfect solution but it did the job.

Hannah and I had a good moan about our kayaking predicament, and then Hannah piped up that things aren’t that bad and we should just go at our own pace and enjoy ourselves. Five minutes later, Hannah caved in and cursed our kayak.

You wouldn’t believe how thankful we were when we made it to the end. I pulled myself out of the kayak, waddled over and got changed behind some rocks. By the time I finished, lunch was served. I felt like Hannah and I deserved two lunches each after that workout!

Land!

We said our goodbyes to John who was making his way back to base by boat. We, however, had a three hour bush walk to tackle.

This bush walk was a lot more enjoyable than the one I did in Fraser Island (Australia). Instead of spiders' burrow holes I was surrounded by lush greenery and fantastic views.

It was safe to say that we were all beat by the end of our walk. We all had things that we left behind at the kayak base so we walked back to collect them. This happened to be in the opposite direction to Old Macdonald’s.

Nobody seemed to know where our stuff was stored. I didn’t mind at all. It seemed that the nice driver from earlier was one of many lovely men that worked there. We all swooned like schoolgirls with a crush. Pathetic I know. One guy, who had piercing green/blue eyes, reminded me of the actor Michael Ealy. He not only found our stuff – ah, my hero! – but also agreed to give us a lift back to the farm.

Later on in the evening we made s'mores (toasted marshmallows dipped in chocolate sandwiched between two biscuits) and played Uno (card game). I can’t remember the last time I ate that much concentrated sugar. It felt like I’d face-planted a bowl of sugar. My teeth tingled in disagreement.

Sleep beckoned and I made my way across to my hammock for the last time. Roll on Punakaiki.

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...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!