Paddington pastimes

Sorry this blog has been so sporadic since my return to Sydney. To tell the truth, there just hasnt been that much interesting happening to write about. After staying a week in Lane Cove, we returned to the house in Paddington for another two weeks of catsitting Inky. Since then, we have settled into an uneasy regime.

You will notice the word 'we' appearing a lot here. Me and Harri have been thrown together, and have basically turned into an old married couple. Unable to afford a traditional night out, we have taken to inviting friends round for dinner in the hope that they bring wine and entertainment. It has been commented on by many of these friends that we have started finishing each others sentences, and making comments such as 'oh yes, WE loved that!' We drink tea and put our glasses on and read in bed and have developed habits of the 'honey, I'm home' kind. Its a bit sickening...

So, yes, at the moment, life goes: job hunt, flat hunt, watch movies (save money), walk in centennial park, pass out in front of fan afterwards.

After two consecutive evenings of watching her on screen (Hunger Games and then the Oscars), WE have both developed a huge girl crush on Jennifer Lawrence. She comes up in conversation at least 4 times a day. Often followed by some kind of abuse of Anne Hathaway.

Headed to coles for the weekly food shop this morning, stopping via the pet shop at Bondi which to our joy and disgust still contains tiny puppies and kittens in cages. Kelpie puppies priced at only $50, clearly so desperate for exercise that they are running round banging into their enclosures, as opposed to the drugged up kittens who woke up to be sick, lick lips, and then fall asleep again. Nice. It was heartbreaking to walk away from some of them. The Cavoodles, less so (part King Charles Cavalier, part poodle - not my fave...)

Poor Inky has been renamed Stinky due to his breath. We give him lots of love and affection and he repays it by starting to wash while sitting on your lap and almost causing you to pass out. While he doesnt seem to fond of his nickname, he isnt taking the hint either.

Its been a very buggy week. The other night, we were startled to see a huge cockroach walking across the ceiling. Talking about 3 inches long here. Too big. When pursued, it started to fly madly around the room. We were horrified, not having realised that flying was part of their creepy repertoire. On closer research (wikipedia) it was revealed that 'Australian cockroaches fly in hot weather'. Great. The next morning I came downstairs to walk straight through hundred of tiny spider webs. The wall was covered in tiny spiders. In the UK, I would label them as 'money spiders', harmless, sweet creatures that didnt merit squashing. However on closer observation, these tiny spiders were clearly huntsmen, and would grow from a few millimetres into monstrous palm-sized biting machines. Not good for sharing a house with. I unleashed a stream of insect spray onto them. To my intense discomfort, instead of dying quietly, thousands of the bloody things came streaming out from under the skirting board like some kind of post apocalyptic horror film. They swarmed towards my feet, as I let loose with the can of 'raid', screaming intermitently.

The joys of Australia. I miss home...!
 

Lazy and crazy

What am I doing? Hmm. In a nutshell, sitting around, vainly flipping through job seeker websites and wondering why the internet isnt recognising www.facemail.com

The cat has been following me ever since I had tuna salad for lunch, which isnt particularly flattering, and I'm watching reruns of Green Wing, and trying not to snort with laughter.

Oh and staring at a mindmap I made earlier (very Blue Peter) on hedge funds, which unfortunately I cant now read because my writing is so terrible.

A productive day then.

Money matters

Since returning to Sydney and a (more) normal life, money has become a serious preoccupation. My inbox is full of job applications made to gumtree for part-time work while I try and establish some kind of 'master plan' for the long term. Unfortunately, I appear to not be marketable, even to dishwashing and leafleting jobs. This is a bit of a slam... Although I'm sure past flatmates/family members would have some kind of joke to make about me not being particularly efficient in the dishwashing department...

One thing I have set up is an account with FineArtAmerica.com. Shameless self-marketing alert. Go ahead and check out some of my pictures at this address:

http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/elizabeth-hardie.html

And please feel free to leave comments (well, only complementary ones...!) and pass on the address to any one you know who is particularly in the market for other people photos or original greetings cards. Yeah, I know, I'm already wondering whether these people actually exist. So go ahead y'all!

Flo's farewell

It was a sad evening when we all converged on the Glenmore hotel to wish a fond farewell to our Floriane. After weeks of backpacking together it just doesn't seem natural that she wont continue to be there every day! So we celebrated with some great food and lots of wine.

As the wine flowed, the conversation also edged away from the norm. The Sydney crowd wanted to hear all about our trip, which took things into the diving realm. As with most evenings, at some point, the conversation invariably deteriorated. The topic tonight for some reason settled on procreation underwater. It was acknowledged that ducks can only copulate in running streams. Some confusion was cast over fish and their reproductive cycle. These can be seen as a biological facts - anything David Attenborough might comment on cannot be labelled 'smutty'. However, I'm betting the great DA never uttered the immortal words "you cant have sex underwater - just think about coastal erosion..." Hmm. Right. Yeah.

We left fairly early to start our first trip back to our new abode in Lane Cove. At this point, the heavens opened. The combination of the rain and the darkness was too much for us. We completely missed our bus stop, and ended up walking for at least half an hour in the torrential downpour. If we hadn't had umbrellas, we would have been completely washed away. As it was, I nearly lost my shoes on several occasions when encountering a raging river when trying to cross the road. To my intense embarrassment, i awoke the next morning to discover that somewhere along this slippy and slidey route, I had put my hip out of joint. I am now walking very strangely and feeling intensely geriatric. Cheers Sydney - great to be back!

Stopover to Sydney

Despite having just spent three and a bit weeks on holiday, I still found it necessary to break up my trip back to Sydney from Brisbane with a weekend stopover in Hawks Nest. Some friends were all staying there and had offered to put me up (again!). When I get a job will definitely have to pay them all back for their never ending generosity! It was great to see Amanda and Kirk again - having seen them everyday for months, it felt like a long time apart (well, for me... probably not quite long enough for them yet...)

Having told the bus driver a sob story about having to hitchhike in order to get him to drop me before my specified dropoff point - I was slightly embarrassed to get caught out by Kirk arriving to pick me up just as the bus drew in. Busted. Ah well, no more greyhounds for me for a while! It had not been the best overnight journey. At every stop all the lights came on, and we stopped for 45 minute meal breaks at 2 and then 6 in the morning. Everyone else got off the bus at Bryon Bay, leaving me and one other guy as the sole passengers. To my horror, the guy came and sat directly behind me. Creepy. I put my seat right back, and after about 10 minutes of feigning a horrendous twitch (combined with snorty noises in the back of the throat) he got the message and moved away.

Entered the house to cries of 'get Beth in a shower, quick!' Great, my reputation as a backpacker had proceeded me... or had the heady aroma of feet, cocoa butter and bug spray crept into the house that quickly? Instead, I opted to head to the beach and throw myself into the ocean. It was beautifully cold and refreshing. More and more familiar faces appeared. Unfortunately, having said hello, most of them immediately looked disappointed and said "what? is Harri not with you?" Great for the ego. Note to self: never introduce your most awesome friends to anyone, as they will always be disappointed by your solo presence in the future.

Hawks Nest was all I remembered. Within a couple of hours had seen dolphins, pelicans, and these amazing white parrots with blue eyes that picked up pine kernels and threw them at me when I came too close with my camera. Headed to the pub in the evening to celebrate two peoples birthdays, but had to beat an early retreat when the live music started... The less said the better. We all converged on one of the many dwellings for rounds of the hat game and lots of wine (and aeroguard... not a great mix). To my delight, a possum came to see what all the fuss was about. I'd never seen one outside a zoo. No-one else could understand my excitement at seeing vermin close up...

The next morning, got up early to go to the surf beach for a rousing morning dip. The wind had got up, and the surf was pretty good. I was promptly submerged and dragged down the beach by an errant wave, managing to flash an elderly gentleman in the process. I wondered why he was waving and smiling at me...! Emerged bedraggled but thoroughly awake, covered in sand, and with enough water up my nose to provide hours of entertainment when it would suddenly spontaneously pour like a tap.

Moved on to the estuary after breakfast, before settling on Winda Woppa. Noticing activity amongst the boats we looked up to see a huge pod of dolphins right near the beach. Without a seconds thought, we plunged into the water and swam out to them. From about 25 metres away, we trod water and gazed at them as they glided past, the water parting over their shiny grey backs. It was an incredible moment, so peaceful, yet for us so charged with excitement! When they passed, we turned to head for the shore. Only to realise how far out we had come. Hawks Nest is unfortunately not only known for dolphins and whales, it is also a shark breeding ground. Great Whites come here throughout the year, while bull sharks and tiger sharks also treat the lagoon (which we were now floating in the middle of) as a nursery. The swim back was not relaxing. Every second I expected to see the tip of a fin. Every shadow under the water was coming to kill me. All in all, we got back to the shore feeling pretty stupid! Ah well, at least I had the tourist excuse - the Aussie's should definitely have known better!

Buoys put to a less functional use! Looked like something out of a childrens book!

Final quickie from Queensland

After our eventful Greyhound trip, arrived in Noosa to discover courtesy bus from hostel would not be picking us up  so had half hour tramp with bags under a burning sun. Arriving at Duke St, you couldn't miss the hostel - it was painted a flamboyant shade of pink, similar to those pink ibuprofen with the sugar coating that taste so good.

Walked the coastline path in the late afternoon, taking in some beautiful beaches and coastal woodland, along with a naked 60 yr old female sunbather and a 70 yr old man taking a piss from a lookout point. Its the little things that make your day...

As it was our last evening together we went out for a real meal. Don't laugh, this was a big deal - we are all utterly sick of our backpacker diet. We dined on panfried red emperor fish with potatoes and a fennel salad. It was sensational. So good that after a mouthful you had to stop because you didn't want it to be over too quickly. We also rediscovered real wine, marvelling at how much nicer it was than goon!

The next morning we waved a sleepy goodbye to Flo, who was off to Byron bay, and sat on the beach for a few hours before meeting friends for a lunch of savoury crepes. One of these guys I know from the Canton in Stockwell (big up, whoop whoop!) and the others we had shared a boat with in the Whitsundays. Was great to catch up, swap stories etc

I am now sitting in Brisbane bus station, alone for the first time in weeks as Harri has left me to spend time with family here. In a couple of hours I will board the night bus to Sydney, getting off at Hawks Nest to reunite with Amanda. So sad that our awesome trip has come to an end, but, as I sit here exhausted and realising that everything I own smells of feet and sunscreen, acknowledging that its probably time to go home!

Dear Greyhound bus driver

Dear mr bus driver man,
We really arent your biggest fan,
Greyhound you have failed us again,
And this time no excuse of rain,
When you arrived three hours late,
some niceness might have helped our anger to abate,
and isn't it likely the name fteger,
is honestly a misprint for the name Steger?
We aren't a devious bunch,
We just want to get there in time for lunch,
Announcing that the clutch didn't work,
Didn't really make us smirk,
And learning there were airbags none,
didn't increase our sense of fun

To summarise, if you hadn't been such a bastard,
Some friendliness we might have mastered,
As you toddle on your way,
remember a smile can make a strangers day

Boardwalks and beaches of Hervey Bay

Hervey Bay is a strange mix of suburban and quirky. Backpackers are frequent visitors, due to proximity to Fraser Island, but they dont litter every street as in Airlie Beach. So its much quieter, if not entirely sleepy (there is still an Irish pub).

The girl behind the desk in our hostel apologised for the state of the beach in the aftermath of the storms, so naturally, we headed out to check. What we found was hardly a state. The sun was just setting, leaving the sky a dusky pink hue, which was perfectly reflected in the shallows. While the sand was littered with tiny fragments of earth and mineral deposits, this only added to the scene. It was quite beautiful.

To our joy, there were also dead jellyfish washed up everywhere, so we took the opportunity to give them a good poke to get our revenge for the stings we had been inflicted with in the Whitsundays. The kind of mature behaviour we are so fond of... We then retired to our luxurious room to watch Finding Nemo...

The next day we sadly departed the woolshed, via accusations of not paying for aircon, our room key deposit etc. Luckily there was no question in our minds and it all turned out to be a lack of organisation on the part of the management. However it did leave a bit of a sour taste in the mouth.

Crazily, we had to catch a free shuttle back to the greyhound bus stop in order to get picked up by our next hostel, which was a prebooked part of our Fraser Island tour. On the other end of the town, we lucked out massively due to some administrative error and got upgraded to a villa! With separate rooms, a kitchen, aircon and a tv, it was amazing. 

We headed out for walk to the local pier - famed for its length. It was incredibly windy, and we walked (or rather got blown) along, while singing Disney songs at the top of our lungs. It was a good thing that the wind obscured the sound. I'm sure it wasnt pretty...

As the sunset, we headed for home, and ended the evening in style, eating home cooked food and watching Downton Abbey!

Frisky flies, foam and frolicking on Fraser

The alarm went off at 6. Normally never a good thing. But in this case, yeah! We were off to Fraser Island.
Let it be a lesson. We had breakfast, checked out and turned up at the office full of energy to discover that the office was shut, no-one was around, and it smelled like an animal had died. Quarter of an hour later the owner rocked up - claiming 'girls, i'm having a shocker! a shocker!' We smiled and forgot about it. An hour later, we were still there, as she told everyone 'i'm having a shocker!' yet again. The smiles were getting more forced.

Fraser Island tours are notorious for being big groups, where you get to drive along the fantastic beaches (more convenient than roads) - they lean towards the younger age groups, and involve lots of goon and singing. We had already shown our age by doing unthinkable things like not drinking (too expensive) and playing scrabble in the hostel bar. So we were (well, I was) a little apprehensive of 'hanging with the kids'. This worry turned out to be unneccesary. Our group was a little different. It consisted of us, (aged around 24), a father and daughter from France, and two fiftysomething Dutch women. Ok. This was fine. We then discovered we were only taking one car, and when I asked whether we should show them our driving licenses, was told it wasnt necessary as we wouldnt be driving. Hmmph. Grrr. The next issue to raise its ugly head was when we got to the 4x4 to discover that the back three seats were basically in the boot, very cramped and with very limited visibility of anything. The Dutch ladies promptly complained about their knees, and being the pushover I am, I initially offered to go in the back. So the three English girls ended up crammed in the back. And the others looked happily around, as if to say, ok, this will be how it goes then. Now, my companions are not cursed with my diminutive stature, and were very uncomfortable. I was also slightly annoyed. After a lifetime of always getting crammed into the backs of cars/car boots/tiny beds, I thought, sod this, we've paid just as much as the others - why should we get stuck here. Now it was just a matter of conveying this to the others without offending anyone. A task which filled our next two days. By the end of the trip I had successfully managed 4 out of the 19 car trips, not in the back! Erm, result!?!

I find it really difficult to approach this kind of conversation - it was clear that there was an age issue, and the younger members of the group were expected to sacrifice out of respect for their elders. Part of me caves immediately to this. But we are no longer children. We were all adults, paying handsomely for the experience, so surely some kind of equality could be established. Or was it because we were Brits - and the fiesty Europeans immediately realised we wouldnt be up for a fight? It was pretty awkward, to say the least.

Ok, enough complaining. It was a fantastic two days otherwise. The ferry was about 40 mins, followed by careering along a sand track across the centre of the island before emerging on 75 mile beach on the east side. As well as a beautiful expanse of white sand, this is also the main road. However, due to the very high tides in the wake of the storm, much of the beach was underwater, so going was a little hairy at times.

Our first stop took us for a 40 minute walk across a semi-wooded sand dune to a beautiful green lake, perfectly clear and cool, with little fish that would nibble the passing swimmers. We passed huge spiders, and coppery red trees that bled crimson sap. It was incredibly picturesque, but with a very wild, untamed beauty. It was during this walk that something terrible happened. My flip-flops, a present from my parents 6 years ago in Cape Town, snapped. Well the left one did. Doing the rest of the trip barefoot was not perhaps the best idea. I have been burnt, stung and left with many many splinters. But I could not face the indignity and clamminess of wearing trainers on a sand island! Even if it meant people calling me a mountain goat, and other such affectionate names. After attempts to find stray flip-flops on the beach (they were all right feet, damn!) I gave up.

We stopped off at the Maheno wreck, which suddenly loomed in the sandy distance. Having seen pictures of it all my life, it was amazing to be there in the flesh. Especially when our attention was called to what the boat originally looked like when it was stranded on its voyage to Sydney. It used to be huge! The remains now only resemble jagged teeth in some places, although you can still see an impressive amount of detail. It was very atmospheric with the clouds looming, and the waves crashing through the portholes. The foamy scum being thrown up all the way along the beach skedaddled across the sand like a scuttling crab, while we jumped to avoid it (pretty unsuccessfully).

I'll speed this up. We visited as many of the major sites on the Island as we could, give the conditions, and the amount of roads still shut following the storms. Indian Head (so named after Captain Cook saw Aboriginals there), the Champagne Pools (we couldnt swim, as the usual subtle ripples had been amplified to massive waves breaking over the pools), some amazing sand dunes etc. In the morning, after a fitful nights sleep and an amazing breakfast (bacon and pancakes!!!) we swam in an icy clean (and cold) creek, which carried you straight down towards the ocean. And three waiting dingos, who were fishing near the shore. We were overjoyed to see them - Fraser is known for having the most purebred dingos anywhere in Australia. Signs abound with warnings about them. Jokes about them eating babies are not appreciated.

Then on to Lake Mackenzie, were we swam and passed out in the sun. For the first time, we were also not plagued by the huge marshflies that had been ever present for the rest of our time on the island. We all developed our own dances to keep them off. Mine was a little like the funky chicken, but more twitchy... A last lunch, then we were off, back to the mainland bustle. On return to the hostel, a shower was definitely in order. Followed by a general comparison of bites. I have a perfect crescent on the back of my left leg. Strangely, all my bites are confined to my left leg. Random.

Now I must sign off, and give my full attention to our scrabble game...!

Buses, billboards and bundaberg

We had planned a lovely day in Brisbane, visiting vintage warehouses, swimming on the south bank, and dining on savoury crepes. But, once again, greyhound had other ideas. Despite being informed that they had no services running until the 5th, I gave them a quick call on the morning of the second to see if there was any chance of a bus to Hervey Bay. Funnily enough, their services had miraculously resumed. Hmm. What followed was half an hr of informing the woman on the other end of the line, that, while we were well aware that our bus passes only ran north to south, we would be using them to go north to Hervey bay and she was going to find a way of making this possible. I listed multiple reasons why greyhound were in the wrong and we were very important people whom they didn't want to annoy. Astoundingly, for the.first time in my life, it worked! But there was a catch. We had an hour before the next bus, or there were none till Tuesday. We legged it.

I have always preferred overnight buses. There is one thing to do - sleep, or at least try to. But during the day I want to see all I can, and am determined to state out the window with alarming intensity and miss nothing. On this journey, this proved a good approach (on previous journeys, eg in Africa where you saw the wrecked remains of previous buses, it was less so...)

Unless you have been living under a rock, you will be aware that Queensland has suffered some horrific flooding in the last few months. This has prompted confusion from some English backpacker acquaintances as to how half the country can be under water and the other half on fire... We had had our journey turned upside down, but with a few exceptions (first day diving, tablelands, boats at Airlie) had not really seen much evidence of the storms or floodwaters. Passing through small towns on this journey, it was all too obvious. The trees wore the telltale  tidemark like a brown cloak. We couldn't believe our eyes - in places  the waterlevel was higher than the bus. What was equally amazing was the hugely efficient cleanup operation that had clearly taken place. Businesses and houses that would have been submerged were cleaned up and reopening, and small public conveniences, such as bins, had already been replaced. While some fields still held standing water, in the majority of cases, life had returned to normal (not the case further up the coast - we had hoped to visit Bundaberg  but were told that it was open to emergency personnel only - gawking backpackers werent welcome) Hopefully the photos below will give you some idea, but I must apologise for their quality - they were taken on a phone from a moving bus.

Flooded plains

Flood line on tree

Other highlights of the journey included passing a cemetery with three grey kangaroos being the only mourners present. We all giggled when we drove through Gympie. Immature, yes, sadly true. What really got me were the roadsigns. Australians seem to have a passion for huge signs. In tablelands we passed a lake, signed by an enormous fish. Outside gympie was a vast two storey pineapple outside the pineapple plantation. And as we neared Maryborough, a billboard the size of a bus declared 'the G spot - marital aids'. Nice.

We reached Hervey Bay late afternoon, thrilled that we had made it, and were now going to be able to go to Fraser Island. Our hostel was adorable and utterly different. Modelled on an old fashioned woolshed, we slept up in the eaves of one of the old barns. For the first time in a room if our own, it felt like luxury.

Brisbane blunders and bathrooms

We ended up flying to Brisbane. There was, we were assured by greyhound (surprise, surprise), no other way to get south of Airlie Beach. So we coughed up $100 in return for an incredibly short, and incredibly freezing flight. Literally teeth chattering. It was horrible. The airports at least provided some amusement. The Whitsundays Coast was stuffed with backpackers, all in a similar predicament. One was burnt so badly that her back had blistered all over. There was an audible wince from onlookers when she swung her backpack on. There was also a fantastic array of very long and straggly beards (mostly men), and an awesome security man who sadly swabbed us for explosive residue while telling stories of how he used to be a captain on the high seas.

Brisbane airport was a bit different. We had to stop off in a cafe to use their WIFI and figure out where the hell we were going. Booking a hostel through the tiny screen of a smartphone is no piece of cake. Gradually, we realised that all the other occupants of the cafe were men, putting back an impressive amount of VB and talking about their construction machinery with proud, very loud, voices. We looked a little out of place - me in a neon pink t-shirt and straw trilby proudly wielding a Jackie Collins...




On arrival at the hostel we had booked, we found to our horror that the computer had utterly screwed up, and had only booked a room for one person, on three consecutive nights, in the middle of February. The receptionist chewed gum and ignored our explanation that something had gone wrong. Because its perfectly normal for three girls to turn up with bags to confirm their booking for one of them in two weeks time??? We ended up jumping at the chance to move down the road. When the reception area smells of pee, you dont want to see the rooms...

Ran into this guy in the street

Settled in, then headed off to the South Bank in search of the Friday night market. On the way, came upon an impromptu concert/filming in front of the concert hall. A random array of musicians (they would have us believe, by dressing some in tails and evening dresses, and some in hawaiian shirts and flip flops) would wander into shot from different directions and join in the playing. Was a great distraction, and looked fantastic, under the Brisbane version of the London Eye. We continued on past the Nepalese Peace Pagoda to the market, where we bought sorbet and corn on the cob. Not to eat at the same time. Clearly. The handful of stalls were nice and varied. We laughed over more kangaroo bollocks, ran past the tarot cards in terror, and came over all nostalgic next to the Winnie the Pooh themed jewellery. Looking up, we noticed a totally random figure on a bicycle, suspended above it all. Nice touch...? Bit creepy. Took us a while to figure out whether it was a statue or an actual person.

Past the beach (manmade) and over the bridge just before sunset, we walked through the botanic gardens to get back to the hostel. The bats were out in force. So were the mosquitoes. In hindsight, walking next to swampy terrain as the sunsets was not the best way to avoid getting bitten...

Dined on Pho and dumplings at the Vietnamese down the road, which had the most friendly and welcoming manager I have ever met. Randomly meeting fantastic people is becoming a bit of a motif of this trip. Back at the hostel, you couldnt brush your teeth for girls pushing to see in the mirror as they curled their hair. Still smarting slightly from a comment on the boat in the Whitsundays (one of the guys wanted to dress up as a pirate and couldnt believe none of us had any makeup with us at all...) we looked on aghast. These damn city types...