Its always quite cool heading into a Big City that you've heard and started thinking about from a thousand kilometres down the coast, you arrive and see the suburbs mounting up and getting more and more less randomly dotted and sparsely placed. It means you get to the centre to see the highrises and massive scaled buildings almost prepared! I remeber the same sort of thing happening when I got to Sydney and me being almost nervous of what there was, what I'd see and who I'd meet; the sheer scale of a big citymakes it quite an intimidating place to enter and get chucked into the middle.
Of course a quick look at the map familiarises yourself with the layout of such a place and disapates any feeling of being out of your depth, and you can start enjoying the place.
An old travelling face from Byron, Jack was there waiting for us - he was in the area and bored, aparently. After hitching a ride back to our hostel on the courtesy mini-bus, we ventured out and about, getting our bearings and what not, getting a general image of the place. Just wandering.
My remaining image of Brisbane is that of a small metropolitan Sydney combined with the aged buildings seen in London and some of the artiness of Melbourne. It seemed to be a place I could love, eventually.
Jack suggested we walk to 'the Beach'. Alright I thought, this could be a suprise, what with Brisbane being at least 20km from the sea, and the Brisbane River being similar to the Thames in look and size.
15 mins later and we were at a tiny man made beach which ran into a 20m kidney shaped swimming pool that it continuially surrounded. This was the beach for 1.8m people. Niiiiice. Never went in there for a dip, unsuprisingly.
Our hostel, 'Bunk' was the nicest big hostel I'd been in. everyone had a partition for a little bit of brivacy in bed as well as a light, shelf and plug socket. Every room, which housed 8 people, had a separate loo and shower, too. Every floor was diferently designed with a different theme - we we level 3 - Fire, which was dressed in reds and A level - standard paintings and art.
Downstairs was a bar that we got free entry into and cheap Jugs of beer ($8 for 1125ml - about 2 quid for a pint) which was an easy way to buy a round. Also had a pool table (free with the magic cotton bud coin slot jiggle...), heaters and a funky name - Birdee Num Nums. I think I only ever went here - everywhere else was charging actual money to get in. Being 'the' entertainment district, Fortitude Valley (strange, as it was on a hill), this was a bit disapointing.
Got my mobile phone back the next day from the Post Restante, finally. I'd been without it for at least a month, and I didn't miss it one bit. When I'd torn it out of the 4 layers of packaging (the number of places its had been chasing me through), and immediately felt it's wieght in my pocket - I'd survived without for a month, now it was weighing me down!! It did just what Facebook and Phoneboxes did, only faster and more expensive.
Lea ze German from Port Macquarie and Byron suggested this a good hostel (she was cleaning the kitchen at night for free accomodation), so we met up with her in the reception the next day to go to the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, which our nice hostel kindly drove us to (but not back).
Pretty cool place, nice and 'hands on' - I managed to poke a koala (very soft yet muscular), taunt 3 pigs (Bacon bacon bacon!!), and harass kangaroos that really couldn't care about the whole thing. There was also a cow in a pen labelled "WARNING: These pigs may bite." Funny also becuse it was a dozy little Cow-let (bigger than a calf, yet smaller than a real cow) that wouldn't hurt anything.
Doing some budgetting later, I realised I reeaaaaally don't have to work in Oz! WOOO! So long as I keep on the homecooked pasta and keep beer to a near minimum I can still actually afford to do cool stuff and maybe go home with some money to keep for whatever Uni needs.
I had also come to the point where I had only 2 months left in Oz. Looking back its hard to see where all the time's gone, but think logically and I can see it's just cuz I've been doing so many cool things and having such a brilliant time. To do this trip has easily been the best decision of my life, and I bet I'll come back a right backpacker bore - "...Yeah, when I was trekking the mountains of the Great Dividing range west of Sydney..." - I need to remember that not everyone reeeeeally wants to hear everything I've done. Its all about the anecdotes, I suppose. They're interesting, mostly.
Back to reality, Oliver and me wanted to go to see an Ozzie Rules Footy match. Aparently they weren't in season, so we made do with a Rugby Union game (I think it's Union... it had scrums in it...???).
After getting a bus outside our hostel that handily dropped us about 100 metres from the Suncorp Stadium, we got our tickets and I thought I was over dressed in the only shirt I had. My excuse is that it was the only thing I had to wear, which was true, I've got about 2 weeks of clothes (5 t's?) and I was on day 12 of the cycle.
Wow, how much lights and big TVs and stuff do they need? It was quite a sight, having never been to a stadium for a sporting event, only for music, which is a different lighting set up and totally different vibe altogether.
After foolishly saying 'who are the All Blacks' a bit too loudly and being shusshhhhed by Ollie, the game kicked off. The first thing I noticed was the lack of comentary! HAving only seen these sort of large scale sport matches on TV, I expected a lofty voice to be there, but no! I had to figure out what the hell was going on all by my self with Ollie.
My team were winning throughout 70 of the 80 minuites - we'd Rock-Paper-Scissored for it, though I won, my team lost in the last 10 mins; 28 to 21 or something. One hilight of the match was a little guy on a small quadbike burning it inbetween the players everytime 'The Queensland Reds' scored against 'The Crusaders' from NZ. It was just so random and seemingly unrelated to the game; this green kid with a company name plastered to a flag on the back going around at 15mph. The Reds weren't green, so it was an odd colour choice.
I got into it by the end - I reckon I'd get it if I watched another match. It was cooool! Not bad seats for $33, either.
We walked it back to the hostel after the match because the public transport was rammed. Only took us 15mins 'n all.
We went around the usual sights with Matheus, our friendly yet wierd German room mate, who stood at 6'7" tall, making Ollie (6'4") and myself seem miniscule. He wasn't lanky either, and weighed 125kgs, aparently!! He was an odd guy - his weight came in useful in Sydney when he became a horse trainer - breaking in young horses and training them. He also had the job of collecting horse semen, too, which he said was very dangerous, when 'ze man iz in ze heet of ze mooment and he's waving it allll over ze place - you gahta get him off the girl and get his juices man!' Niiiice. He also had a full hunting lisence, about 10 guns and really liked shotguns. And he;d killed a 5ft, 150kg pig with his knife. Interesting guy, but didn't really understand subtletly - openly gawking at good looking ladies as they walked by, peeking through the seat back and all. Oh yeah, he was also coughing because he'd inhaled salt water at 30m on his Advanced Diving PADI course. The prescribed drugs caused him to sleep most of the day and wake up either on a high or massively stoned; you could put speakers by his sleeping head and he wouldn't have woken up.
On one of the last nights, we won a free meal for having the best name in a quiz that we lost. Rather we were the only ones to scream our team's name (McLovin - a reference to the film 'Super Bad' which I'd seen before, and also given that to Ollie on our Nimbin tour as a surname before I knew it was Parke). It was very unsatisfying, spliting a free meal 2 ways; it was a nice rice and beef curry while it lasted though.
Brisbane as a whole was a cool place, though it didn't really have much going for it from a tourist's point of view. Recon I could live there though, its a more chilled out place than other cities I'd been to.
After 2 stops in larger places, I was looking forward to the next stop of Noosa - a small town of only backpackers and millionnaires; an interesting combo!
Friday, 30 May 2008
Thursday, 29 May 2008
Surfer's Paradise - Spain with Kangaroos on the Sunshine Coast
I thought we arrived at Surfer's about an hour before we were at the bus depot. But apparently, it was another city that was just attached to Surfer's in one long, long line of coastal high rise development.
Sitting on Surfer's Paradise beach later on, I could see how far the development stretched - basically the length to the distant headland to the south and probably beyond (seeing the dark grey of the mini map in my Oz guide book) to a total of about 35km. It's quite weird, having come from an array of smaller locations where most of the headlands were reserved as national parks.
Even weirder, come 2.30pm, the sun started casting shadows on the beach, making it a little nippy. Which planner thought of putting the hostels and buildings a street away from the beach?? Silly silly.
Having said this, the beach was very cool; a squeaker underfoot with some decent looking waves at some points.
Oliver and I met up with a couple I'd met in Bellingen then Byron - Kevin and Camilla - who had been sold a bar crawl for that night for $15 each (RRP $60?!??!), which would get us into a load of places for free with a free drink at each place and food; sounded like good value!
Having recouped at the hostel (which had an en suite, oo la la. No real door, just what looked like 1/2 a stable door in the middle of the frame to divide the dorm and loo/shower), we headed out to the big lights of the Sunshine Coast capital 10 minutes down the road.
Meeting outside our first destination, a strip club called Showgirls, at 5pm, we started the crawl. But being 5pm - there wasn't really any vibe or any of the Showgirls the club was named after. Taking our free drink, mine a schooner of Carlton, we sat down and commented on how weird a place it is, considering everyone was stone cold sober.
An hour later and a handful of pizza, we moved on to loads (well, 5?) of other places, including a place called Bedroom that was meant to be famous and popular for international DJs to play at, a strictly R&B club (woo) and a bowling alley, where we were going to play a free game! Or we would have, if there were half the people and double the time. "Ah, mate, youse should have pushed in!" According to the organiser. Thanks.
A few clubs, Vodka Sunrises (mmmmn!) and familiar faces later, we went home, via a discount shop that was common all around Oz. The shop played a loop of a guy spouting stuff about how you'll never see prices this low again and stuff, and how they were closing down. All of this was done in a voice that sounded like a suppressed shout, giving him a near desperate edge. Bought a pink frisbee for $2.50, probably on account of recently loosing the Aerobie.
After watching a little bit of Little Britain on the 14" TV in our room, a lot of which isn't really funny anymore to my ears, we turned in.
The next day, after a scrumptious burnt egg on toast with cheese brekkie, with tea, we headed for the beach, body board in (my) hand. The beach was shadow free for 4/5 more hours, so we wanted to make good use of it!
New (very manly) sarong placed down, I scoped out the surf, which had disappeared overnight. Any surf that there was was just dumping on the shore anyway. Bored of just lying there like a corpse when it was too bright to read and I had too much energy, I decided on a walk - informing my comrade that I'd be back in 10. I spied on a map an inlet for boats and stuff a day or so before and spied the adjoining boulder wall in the distance to the north.
2 hours later, I arrived at my destination, having been too determined and proud to give up without getting there. After all, it must only be another 10 mins away, max? The problem of flat beaches is the lack of perspective... it was probably 4km, by the time I got there, without shoes or a T-shirt or money or a phone. Feet hurting, I made it out to the boulder groyne that jutted out into the sea by 100m (I thought it was probably 20m at base camp, hence thinking it was closer, perhaps?), had a look around, at the sea, and made it back.
Why not hitchhike?! I thought, it couldn't be that difficult, and I couldn't be bothered to walk an extra 4km back. Walking over gravel, asphalt and grit, I reached a car park for this area. Walking along what I thought was the main drag back to Surfer's, I started thumbing for a lift. 100m and about 15 cars, plenty of them near empty, later, I came to a fork in the road which veered away from the beach - walk on the softer sand or hold out for a lift with increasingly worn heels. To the beach, I confessed internally, was probably the best way - a half naked, incredibly muscular 6'1" strange guy probably isn't the first person anyone would want in their car.
Getting back with my heels hurting a wee bit, I sat down to Ollie asking where the hell I'd been, he was sick with worry and sent search parties out and everything.
We had a $10 steak that night; its always good to have a 'real' meal every now and then, even though, with extras, it came to $16.50. Still, a whole meal that costs 8 quid ain't bad.
Booking up my Greyhound for the following morning and accommodation in Brisbane, I sat down in front of the big-old rear projection TV (that undoubtedly was THE biggest thing, 5 years ago) to watch the last 5 minutes of Fight Club. Don't think I've ever seen it all! Should do. One for the list.
Surfer's Paradise had a good night life, nice restaurants and stuff, but high-rise, overdeveloped Spain isn't what I came to Oz for! Glad I'd discovered that myself, though.
Sitting on Surfer's Paradise beach later on, I could see how far the development stretched - basically the length to the distant headland to the south and probably beyond (seeing the dark grey of the mini map in my Oz guide book) to a total of about 35km. It's quite weird, having come from an array of smaller locations where most of the headlands were reserved as national parks.
Even weirder, come 2.30pm, the sun started casting shadows on the beach, making it a little nippy. Which planner thought of putting the hostels and buildings a street away from the beach?? Silly silly.
Having said this, the beach was very cool; a squeaker underfoot with some decent looking waves at some points.
Oliver and I met up with a couple I'd met in Bellingen then Byron - Kevin and Camilla - who had been sold a bar crawl for that night for $15 each (RRP $60?!??!), which would get us into a load of places for free with a free drink at each place and food; sounded like good value!
Having recouped at the hostel (which had an en suite, oo la la. No real door, just what looked like 1/2 a stable door in the middle of the frame to divide the dorm and loo/shower), we headed out to the big lights of the Sunshine Coast capital 10 minutes down the road.
Meeting outside our first destination, a strip club called Showgirls, at 5pm, we started the crawl. But being 5pm - there wasn't really any vibe or any of the Showgirls the club was named after. Taking our free drink, mine a schooner of Carlton, we sat down and commented on how weird a place it is, considering everyone was stone cold sober.
An hour later and a handful of pizza, we moved on to loads (well, 5?) of other places, including a place called Bedroom that was meant to be famous and popular for international DJs to play at, a strictly R&B club (woo) and a bowling alley, where we were going to play a free game! Or we would have, if there were half the people and double the time. "Ah, mate, youse should have pushed in!" According to the organiser. Thanks.
A few clubs, Vodka Sunrises (mmmmn!) and familiar faces later, we went home, via a discount shop that was common all around Oz. The shop played a loop of a guy spouting stuff about how you'll never see prices this low again and stuff, and how they were closing down. All of this was done in a voice that sounded like a suppressed shout, giving him a near desperate edge. Bought a pink frisbee for $2.50, probably on account of recently loosing the Aerobie.
After watching a little bit of Little Britain on the 14" TV in our room, a lot of which isn't really funny anymore to my ears, we turned in.
The next day, after a scrumptious burnt egg on toast with cheese brekkie, with tea, we headed for the beach, body board in (my) hand. The beach was shadow free for 4/5 more hours, so we wanted to make good use of it!
New (very manly) sarong placed down, I scoped out the surf, which had disappeared overnight. Any surf that there was was just dumping on the shore anyway. Bored of just lying there like a corpse when it was too bright to read and I had too much energy, I decided on a walk - informing my comrade that I'd be back in 10. I spied on a map an inlet for boats and stuff a day or so before and spied the adjoining boulder wall in the distance to the north.
2 hours later, I arrived at my destination, having been too determined and proud to give up without getting there. After all, it must only be another 10 mins away, max? The problem of flat beaches is the lack of perspective... it was probably 4km, by the time I got there, without shoes or a T-shirt or money or a phone. Feet hurting, I made it out to the boulder groyne that jutted out into the sea by 100m (I thought it was probably 20m at base camp, hence thinking it was closer, perhaps?), had a look around, at the sea, and made it back.
Why not hitchhike?! I thought, it couldn't be that difficult, and I couldn't be bothered to walk an extra 4km back. Walking over gravel, asphalt and grit, I reached a car park for this area. Walking along what I thought was the main drag back to Surfer's, I started thumbing for a lift. 100m and about 15 cars, plenty of them near empty, later, I came to a fork in the road which veered away from the beach - walk on the softer sand or hold out for a lift with increasingly worn heels. To the beach, I confessed internally, was probably the best way - a half naked, incredibly muscular 6'1" strange guy probably isn't the first person anyone would want in their car.
Getting back with my heels hurting a wee bit, I sat down to Ollie asking where the hell I'd been, he was sick with worry and sent search parties out and everything.
We had a $10 steak that night; its always good to have a 'real' meal every now and then, even though, with extras, it came to $16.50. Still, a whole meal that costs 8 quid ain't bad.
Booking up my Greyhound for the following morning and accommodation in Brisbane, I sat down in front of the big-old rear projection TV (that undoubtedly was THE biggest thing, 5 years ago) to watch the last 5 minutes of Fight Club. Don't think I've ever seen it all! Should do. One for the list.
Surfer's Paradise had a good night life, nice restaurants and stuff, but high-rise, overdeveloped Spain isn't what I came to Oz for! Glad I'd discovered that myself, though.
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
Byron Bay, mini paradise and the Nimbin Mardi Grass
On the journey to Byron, the driver pointed out a load of huge Ozzie icons, including a Big Prawn and a Big Banana. Its a strange phenomenon that the Ozzies love, huge kisch objects.
I met up on the Greyhound some people I'd already met in Newcastle, which was cool. I tried to get into the same place they were at, but there was no room at the inn (or YHA). So off to Holiday Village I went, the place where you had to rent your utensils for $6 and they didn't provide sheets -stubbornly I didn't want to pay the $2 cleaning charge, so I went cold for a few nights, piling on all of my warm clothing.
Arriving at 10pm and a few minutes before the whole place shut up for the night (nice and early to encourage you to go and spend money at the clubs around the area) and much too late to try and say hello to anyone that had been drinking, so I went for a week on the beach 500m away. Watching the small billowing waves 15m away in the dark, I could see how the waves can be compared to white horses - the whitening water racing left or right looked a little like a race horse!
The sand was strangely cold, and made a strange squeeking sound when you scuffed your feet along it. I later learned (or believed, it could just be a guess) that the temperature and sound was due to the purity of the sand. The following day I saw that it was truly white, pure and soft sand, and the Bay was one of the best beaches I've been to so far.
Further up the beach were a load of sand balls surrounding holes. Funnel webs!! I thought, getting excited. Poking around to agitate the beast, I soon discovered that it was just tiny little crabs! Looking exactly like the sandballs they made, these little critters were all over the hard sand areas.
I met up with the Port Macquarie crew (Jack, Katey and Lea) later on and played frisbee until it was too dark, which was cool. Being a popular kid around town by now, I met up with my Newcastle buddies at the YHA for a while after some fantastic pasta, tomato paste and 'Tasty' Cheese, and met Ollie, who'd I'd end up travelling with for a while. I thought he was half black and looked a little bit like John Tickle for Big Brother a few years ago, but aparently he just tans well. Oh yeah, don't drink wine with a drinking game then have a cup of tea. Not good. Milk curdles! Feeling a little bit ill, I went beddy bies at 10.30. Which meant I could get up nice and early the following day and do a full day of fun stuff! I tried surfing, borrowing a free surfboard, but the waves were veeeery small. Plus the board didn't have any wax where you need it, so upon trying to stand up, I often when flailing. I gave up in the end and just sunbathed.
The Bar across from my Hostel, called Cheeky Monkey's, had a wet T-Shirt competition, where normal girls became different people in order to win $300. One of the people I'd met in the YHA won. It was a wierd event! Only cost $1 to get in, so it was all good. After the event, the club night started, where punters had to dance on the tables, due to the lack of real dance floor! Again, a little bit strange!
Byron Bay is famous not only for being Byron Bay, but for being the most easterly point in Australia. I took a walk up to this and the lighthouse, which was deceptively far away
(no one tells you that there's another bay between byron headland and the lighthouse! Walking with Ollie, Jack and Luke, the latter 2 who from Oakham (and have heard of Market Deeping!), we all found it a challenge. Luke and myself also decided to have a nachos night, which was awesome and the heaviest meal my belly has had so far.
That night was full of card games, shouting, swearing and sweat - mostly created through a card game I'd picked up from the Canadians in Port Macquarie: Horse Racing! A game of betting, drinking, winning and loosing, we had about 15 people screaming for their Ace to win. I, as the commentator had my work cut out keeping the punters orderly.
Following this, a little bit of beer bottle Jenga was played and the infamous Ring of fire (Aka Kings) back in someones room once we'd been turfed out at Curfew time. Goood times.
The Following Day...
Up bright and early! Oliver and myself had a bus to catch to the Nimbin "Mardi Grass" Festival, a big old hippy event where we 'all' protest against the prohibition of marijuana. After getting on the "Happy Bus", we embarked on the 1.5 hour journey to the remote town with a population of 320, made famous for being Oz's weed capital. The manager of the tour bus, a pasty 30 something year old with dreds and a penchant for non-PC jokes did what he did best and made us laugh nervously and heartily before handing over to the driver who just shook his head and appologised.
We were stopped at a Police checkpoint and sniffer dogs came on the bus, cute as anything. Nothing was found, unsurprisingly, though I was slightly worried that they'd find my stash of Anti-histamines, paracetamol and adrenaline. I could see the stoners getting the most worried about a little golden lab I've ever seen anyone do.
Getting into Nimbin, which reminded me initially of a Devonshire village in 'the hills', we were dropped off and started wandering to see what was going on, too see if we could find a programme or something that a normal festival would publish. But alas! They hadn't bothered with that.
Infact, there wasn't much going on beyond street musicians, hippy stalls selling stuff that veery few people would buy (including Tie-dye tees, rasta hats and hemp cloth clothing), and a couple of competitions (Bong Throwing and Spliff Rolling competitions, anyone?). Not really being into the whole getting stoned thing, we just wandered for a while longer and passed a few more interesting characters. One guy, who must have been 40+, was trying to raise money for the local skatepark's repairs by doing handstands on 2 skateboards, which was very impressive to say the least. There were also women dressed in green Fairy outfits wandering around. Asking someone what the deal was with these chicks, I found out that they were indeed Green Faeries, who could sell you 'special' Cookies. Why these ladies weren't pulled off of the street by the relatively large police (or Poo-Lice, as the hippies say) presence, I don't know.
After a cuppa in a cafe overlooking some awesome views of the Mid-east coast hinterland, we wandered back to the town, to find a huge mass of people. Some guy on a campervan started megaphoning stuff about why weed should be legalised and how the cops are crap and how the world would be better with legal weed and stuff like that, which I found quite entertaining.
As if to proove how serious this was, there followed a procession of numerous 'combis' (after a guy in a green outfit walked with his dog down the middle of the road with a plaque saying something political) - the generic term for Campervans, I think. Trying to count them, the comentator soon got lost and decided on a random final number of combis. An encouraging reason to legalise marijuana!
Back to Byron the longway (someone got killed in a motor accident on the main route), we got back to normality and reflected on how annoying some of the 'hardcore' hippies can be - I mean they're trying to be all unique and back to nature, but they all wear the same thing and smoke; hows that good for the planet?! Geez I'm getting old and moaney.
Bed nice and early again, we had Zorbing to look forward to the following day!
Zorbing is a very new sport which is only available at 2 places in Oz - the one we (Me and Ollie) were going to do it at was the longer one, aparently, with "16 rolls".
Getting picked up an hour late due to the driver's co-worker being pissed from the night before, we drove to a big hill in 15 mins from Byron, to be greeted by a 12 foot clear plastic ball! Volunteering to go first, I strapped in on the inside of the ball. It reminded me of some of the slightly claustrophobic play parts in Big Sky, the kids adventure place, being all plastic and having tight entrances/exits. Being able to see the field ahead of me, I was looking forward to being shoved off of the platform and tumbling 200m or more down a big field! And I started moving! My instincts first told me that I was going to fall, but obviously I didn't, instead I saw light, dark, blue, green and experienced some wierd G-forces. Getting faster, I could feel a sort of force that felt like I could have stuck to the inside withotu the straps, it was quite cool and the feeling of Up/Down had disapeared, my sensed focusing more on the alternating and increasingly blurry green/blues. Feeling myself slowing, I realised I was on the flat at the bottom. hanging like a fly in a web of strapping, I was hanging for a second before the ball made its last movements and I came to rest. In the boggy bit full of deep brown muddy liquid. Unstrapping myself and hamster balling around while Mr Man came to pick me and the ball up, I was looking forward to the next err.... 'Zorb'.
But no! Aparently we only got one go each... Oh well. Watching everyone else go with varying degrees of screams, whoops and laughs, I got roped into the job of the guy that was passed out at home for some reason. Probably thought I'd get a courtesy Zorb, but there was no return for my generosity at all.
Back to Byron, I think we just chilled out on the beach or went for a body surf or something.
The next day we got up at 8am to try and see early morning mantarays, dolphins and fish shoals - but by the time we'd walked to the lookout some 1.5km away, we only saw dolphins in the distance. Still pretty cool, and I'll see much better sights at the Great Barrier reef. More beach that day, oh yeah, I saw the most awesomest sunset ever, backed by people with didgeridoos doing the didging very well even with some sort of underlying pulse going on! There were so many subtleties of colour on the clouds that my white balance on my camera couldn't cope with it. Something just for the memory, I think!
The next day me and Oliver, my new travel bro, travelled to Surfer's Paradise, which we'd heard many tales of high rise hell about. Well I wanted to make up my own mind! So I went there.
(no one tells you that there's another bay between byron headland and the lighthouse! Walking with Ollie, Jack and Luke, the latter 2 who from Oakham (and have heard of Market Deeping!), we all found it a challenge. Luke and myself also decided to have a nachos night, which was awesome and the heaviest meal my belly has had so far.
That night was full of card games, shouting, swearing and sweat - mostly created through a card game I'd picked up from the Canadians in Port Macquarie: Horse Racing! A game of betting, drinking, winning and loosing, we had about 15 people screaming for their Ace to win. I, as the commentator had my work cut out keeping the punters orderly.
Following this, a little bit of beer bottle Jenga was played and the infamous Ring of fire (Aka Kings) back in someones room once we'd been turfed out at Curfew time. Goood times.
The Following Day...
Up bright and early! Oliver and myself had a bus to catch to the Nimbin "Mardi Grass" Festival, a big old hippy event where we 'all' protest against the prohibition of marijuana. After getting on the "Happy Bus", we embarked on the 1.5 hour journey to the remote town with a population of 320, made famous for being Oz's weed capital. The manager of the tour bus, a pasty 30 something year old with dreds and a penchant for non-PC jokes did what he did best and made us laugh nervously and heartily before handing over to the driver who just shook his head and appologised.
We were stopped at a Police checkpoint and sniffer dogs came on the bus, cute as anything. Nothing was found, unsurprisingly, though I was slightly worried that they'd find my stash of Anti-histamines, paracetamol and adrenaline. I could see the stoners getting the most worried about a little golden lab I've ever seen anyone do.
Getting into Nimbin, which reminded me initially of a Devonshire village in 'the hills', we were dropped off and started wandering to see what was going on, too see if we could find a programme or something that a normal festival would publish. But alas! They hadn't bothered with that.
Infact, there wasn't much going on beyond street musicians, hippy stalls selling stuff that veery few people would buy (including Tie-dye tees, rasta hats and hemp cloth clothing), and a couple of competitions (Bong Throwing and Spliff Rolling competitions, anyone?). Not really being into the whole getting stoned thing, we just wandered for a while longer and passed a few more interesting characters. One guy, who must have been 40+, was trying to raise money for the local skatepark's repairs by doing handstands on 2 skateboards, which was very impressive to say the least. There were also women dressed in green Fairy outfits wandering around. Asking someone what the deal was with these chicks, I found out that they were indeed Green Faeries, who could sell you 'special' Cookies. Why these ladies weren't pulled off of the street by the relatively large police (or Poo-Lice, as the hippies say) presence, I don't know.
After a cuppa in a cafe overlooking some awesome views of the Mid-east coast hinterland, we wandered back to the town, to find a huge mass of people. Some guy on a campervan started megaphoning stuff about why weed should be legalised and how the cops are crap and how the world would be better with legal weed and stuff like that, which I found quite entertaining.
As if to proove how serious this was, there followed a procession of numerous 'combis' (after a guy in a green outfit walked with his dog down the middle of the road with a plaque saying something political) - the generic term for Campervans, I think. Trying to count them, the comentator soon got lost and decided on a random final number of combis. An encouraging reason to legalise marijuana!
Back to Byron the longway (someone got killed in a motor accident on the main route), we got back to normality and reflected on how annoying some of the 'hardcore' hippies can be - I mean they're trying to be all unique and back to nature, but they all wear the same thing and smoke; hows that good for the planet?! Geez I'm getting old and moaney.
Bed nice and early again, we had Zorbing to look forward to the following day!
Zorbing is a very new sport which is only available at 2 places in Oz - the one we (Me and Ollie) were going to do it at was the longer one, aparently, with "16 rolls".
Getting picked up an hour late due to the driver's co-worker being pissed from the night before, we drove to a big hill in 15 mins from Byron, to be greeted by a 12 foot clear plastic ball! Volunteering to go first, I strapped in on the inside of the ball. It reminded me of some of the slightly claustrophobic play parts in Big Sky, the kids adventure place, being all plastic and having tight entrances/exits. Being able to see the field ahead of me, I was looking forward to being shoved off of the platform and tumbling 200m or more down a big field! And I started moving! My instincts first told me that I was going to fall, but obviously I didn't, instead I saw light, dark, blue, green and experienced some wierd G-forces. Getting faster, I could feel a sort of force that felt like I could have stuck to the inside withotu the straps, it was quite cool and the feeling of Up/Down had disapeared, my sensed focusing more on the alternating and increasingly blurry green/blues. Feeling myself slowing, I realised I was on the flat at the bottom. hanging like a fly in a web of strapping, I was hanging for a second before the ball made its last movements and I came to rest. In the boggy bit full of deep brown muddy liquid. Unstrapping myself and hamster balling around while Mr Man came to pick me and the ball up, I was looking forward to the next err.... 'Zorb'.
But no! Aparently we only got one go each... Oh well. Watching everyone else go with varying degrees of screams, whoops and laughs, I got roped into the job of the guy that was passed out at home for some reason. Probably thought I'd get a courtesy Zorb, but there was no return for my generosity at all.
Back to Byron, I think we just chilled out on the beach or went for a body surf or something.
The next day we got up at 8am to try and see early morning mantarays, dolphins and fish shoals - but by the time we'd walked to the lookout some 1.5km away, we only saw dolphins in the distance. Still pretty cool, and I'll see much better sights at the Great Barrier reef. More beach that day, oh yeah, I saw the most awesomest sunset ever, backed by people with didgeridoos doing the didging very well even with some sort of underlying pulse going on! There were so many subtleties of colour on the clouds that my white balance on my camera couldn't cope with it. Something just for the memory, I think!
The next day me and Oliver, my new travel bro, travelled to Surfer's Paradise, which we'd heard many tales of high rise hell about. Well I wanted to make up my own mind! So I went there.
Monday, 12 May 2008
Bellingen, the place to chillax
Bellingen was a small town of about 3000 people off of the main Eastern Coast drag - thus not many people go there. There was only one hostel, a YHA, and I'd only heard of this place through a receptionist in Newcastle! It turned out to be a total change from the more frenzied, activity focused places I'd been (and am going to).
Set into the hillside on the very outskirts of 'Bello', the first sign I got was of the common room/area, which was set over a view of rolling grassy hills, cows, a river and swooshing trees. The actual common room was cool, too - it had a ping pong table! Plus a cat called "Puss Puss", a guitar and cool people. Thats the best thing about smaller hostels - they're always so much more sociable!
That night I witnessed a few 1000 fruitbats fly out of their roosting trees. Quite a sight at sunset, though no pictures came out. The noise they make! Blimey, you'd be forgiven for thinking they were all in pain!
Went to a pub across the road from the hostel to see a covers band, 'Groove Robbers' (!!), play an array of very old skool music quite well, all with an impeccible gay 70's/80's rock icon's image. With the vast majority of the atendees there being above the 40 mark, it was interesting to see how rude they think they can be! Pushing to the front, spilling drinks (without even looking sorry) and generally being very un-British and uncouth; are the modern day rock lovers a more polite bunch? Hmmm...
The following day I woke up bright and early with no plans whatsoever, which is a refreshing thing to do. Decided over some brekkie (egg from the chooks in the garden n toast) to go tubing down the river and to the rope swing, some 3m above the river.
I don't think I've ever done a rope swing before, but seeing water below you that you don't know where the bottom is is quite a good buzz! One of the girls I was with nearly backed out too late and came within a foot of hitting the river bank again on the swing back. Turns out that the river must have been at least 3 metres deep, because none of us felt the bottom! Even when you torpedoed it down.
After getting thoroughly cold and wet, we hopped in some tractor tyre innertubes and started serenely floating down the river. But look out! Rapids ahead!! With various sticks and ominous looking objects poking out of the water or just below, 110% of my tubing skills were used.
Floating gently down the river after that is a brillant experience, though for somereason I was designated the least inflated tube (despite me being the heaviest) and the one with a passion for instability. After drying off and watching some local kids jump off a ramp into the river on a bike, Alex ze German, Leah the Essex girl and I retired for a cup of tea.
Wandering around the town during the afternoon, I decided that Bellingen was the place to grow up!! Its small, attractive and the sort of place that everyone knows everyone.
The last night was a strange one - there was only 3 paying customers in the Hostel - me, an Australian motorbike adventurer called Reuben and a Japanese guy called Moto who couldn't speak much english. A few times there was absolutely no understanding in anyway I said something, resulting in an awkward moment where we were just blankly staring at each other.
A mighty walk followed on the next day, up to the top of a hill that overlooks the town. Half way up the 45 degree incline, I heard tones of bongo - upon reaching the top was a bearded fellow looking out over the valley with the instrument. Nice and spirtitual or just fun! He was sitting on a great big 4x4, which sort of damaged the hippy back to nature idea.
After taking in the scene, I walked the longer, more gentle decline back to town, seeing huge 20m Eucalyptus trees that shot straight up to the canopy like a massive natural barcode.
Getting back, I embarked on the free shuttle bus to catch my Greyhound to the backpacker Mecca of Byron Bay...
Set into the hillside on the very outskirts of 'Bello', the first sign I got was of the common room/area, which was set over a view of rolling grassy hills, cows, a river and swooshing trees. The actual common room was cool, too - it had a ping pong table! Plus a cat called "Puss Puss", a guitar and cool people. Thats the best thing about smaller hostels - they're always so much more sociable!
That night I witnessed a few 1000 fruitbats fly out of their roosting trees. Quite a sight at sunset, though no pictures came out. The noise they make! Blimey, you'd be forgiven for thinking they were all in pain!
Went to a pub across the road from the hostel to see a covers band, 'Groove Robbers' (!!), play an array of very old skool music quite well, all with an impeccible gay 70's/80's rock icon's image. With the vast majority of the atendees there being above the 40 mark, it was interesting to see how rude they think they can be! Pushing to the front, spilling drinks (without even looking sorry) and generally being very un-British and uncouth; are the modern day rock lovers a more polite bunch? Hmmm...
The following day I woke up bright and early with no plans whatsoever, which is a refreshing thing to do. Decided over some brekkie (egg from the chooks in the garden n toast) to go tubing down the river and to the rope swing, some 3m above the river.
I don't think I've ever done a rope swing before, but seeing water below you that you don't know where the bottom is is quite a good buzz! One of the girls I was with nearly backed out too late and came within a foot of hitting the river bank again on the swing back. Turns out that the river must have been at least 3 metres deep, because none of us felt the bottom! Even when you torpedoed it down.
After getting thoroughly cold and wet, we hopped in some tractor tyre innertubes and started serenely floating down the river. But look out! Rapids ahead!! With various sticks and ominous looking objects poking out of the water or just below, 110% of my tubing skills were used.
Floating gently down the river after that is a brillant experience, though for somereason I was designated the least inflated tube (despite me being the heaviest) and the one with a passion for instability. After drying off and watching some local kids jump off a ramp into the river on a bike, Alex ze German, Leah the Essex girl and I retired for a cup of tea.
Wandering around the town during the afternoon, I decided that Bellingen was the place to grow up!! Its small, attractive and the sort of place that everyone knows everyone.
The last night was a strange one - there was only 3 paying customers in the Hostel - me, an Australian motorbike adventurer called Reuben and a Japanese guy called Moto who couldn't speak much english. A few times there was absolutely no understanding in anyway I said something, resulting in an awkward moment where we were just blankly staring at each other.
A mighty walk followed on the next day, up to the top of a hill that overlooks the town. Half way up the 45 degree incline, I heard tones of bongo - upon reaching the top was a bearded fellow looking out over the valley with the instrument. Nice and spirtitual or just fun! He was sitting on a great big 4x4, which sort of damaged the hippy back to nature idea.
After taking in the scene, I walked the longer, more gentle decline back to town, seeing huge 20m Eucalyptus trees that shot straight up to the canopy like a massive natural barcode.
Getting back, I embarked on the free shuttle bus to catch my Greyhound to the backpacker Mecca of Byron Bay...
Saturday, 10 May 2008
Port Macquarie, a supposedly nice place.
I say supposedly, becuase it was during my 4 night tenure here that it rained the hardest and fiercest! On the 2nd night I was woken up by the rain slamming its self against the roof of the hostel.
The hostel nigh on empty, too, with about 5 people there on one night. This did mean that I became good mates with some of those people, including one of the fruitiest characters I've met so far - Fred. This man had sold his house, divorced his wife and put normal life on hold so that he could travel around Austrlia 'Until I'm 65' - about 15 years of travel. He trained his son to fish and hunt and kill his own food, and we have exactly the same camera! He used to be called a 'wog', on account of his (at best mediterranian) tan at school in Malta and wasn't let into a post office in West Australia because he looked like an Iraqi. He told me how to get free pool (stick 2 5cent pieces together and whack them in the 2 dollar slot and youse saved Dollar 90!), so I showed him how to poke the washing machine system just right to save $3/$4 in return. There's way too many Fred stories to list here. Oh yeah, Fred taught me how to make pumpkin soup, which is well nice.
Another commendable character was Lea, the German who had hitch-hiked her way all up the east coast (about 2000km). After Port Macquarie, she managed to get a lift further up the coast on a Caramaran with a timber millionaire.
So on the second day, I decided I'd go on a mega walk, no matter what the weather. And of course it rained all day, though my ultra fashionable pac-a-mac kept me and my bag (which was stowed under the coat like the hunchback of Notre-Dame) bone dry. I could see the potential for this place being awesome on a dry day - there's loads of small beaches that you could easily find no one else on. Plus the surf was quite good, though I didn't really fancy going for a dip when I couldn't feel my hands.
By the time my photocopied map had disintegrated in the wet, I fancied some chow, so I hit up a fish n chip shop staffed by obese people. Sure enough, the chip portion size was copious!
Fuelled up and ready to rock, I started wandering out of town. Seeing a sign for a Koala Sanctuary, I decided I'd find a shortcut to it, for fun. Through branches, spiders, dog poo and backgardens I adventured, keeping a low profile so the enemy didn't spot me (and so that I didn't bump into head-height spiderwebs and have the paranoia of a great big hairy arachnid sneaking its way around me).
Finding the Sanctuary, I spent a while looking at the cold masupials with their various ailments. A lot of them had Clamydia; aparently most koalas have it! Some were blinded by bushfires, with patchy fur, which would have tugged on the heart strings of the hardiest man.
The following day was ANZAC day - where the whole of Oz has a public holiday, celebrating/commemorating their defeat against the Turks in WW2. Aparently it was bad British intel that sent them to the wrong place, so fleets of naval units were sunk before they even got close to the cliffs.
In modern days, ANZAC day is a good party and a chance to play (legally) the outlawed gambling game of '2 up'. I watched about 50 men get excited about 3 coins being thrown in the air and betting sometimes $100 on the totally random and equally chanced outcome. At the same pub there was a free BBQ, so we helped our selves to that happily, though a throat infection at the time made it painful to swallow any food or drink, let alone crusty bread rolls!
I spent the rest of the day/night in pubs trying to figure out what the difference between XXXX, Carlton, Victoria Bitter and Tooheys was with a guy called Jack from the south of England. Not much really, but people seem to have a strong aliegence to their drink for some reason. Jack and his girlfriend had been to Thailand recently, so it was good to get some tips on places to go and see.
The people always seem to make the place, especially if the weather or place is a bit crappy - Lea, Jack, Katey and Fred I met up with at another time, which is cool. If the weather was better, would I have made as good friends with them? Who knows... One person that did put a downer on things was the Hostel manger. Why was she always annoyed with everything? I never saw her smile! I managed to get from her that she'd moved out to oz from mid-north england, so I couldn't see what she was so sour faced about everything. To make things more wierd, she asked for $10 when I asked if she could post on my phone when it got to the hostel (behind me), though the price label only said $4...
The hostel nigh on empty, too, with about 5 people there on one night. This did mean that I became good mates with some of those people, including one of the fruitiest characters I've met so far - Fred. This man had sold his house, divorced his wife and put normal life on hold so that he could travel around Austrlia 'Until I'm 65' - about 15 years of travel. He trained his son to fish and hunt and kill his own food, and we have exactly the same camera! He used to be called a 'wog', on account of his (at best mediterranian) tan at school in Malta and wasn't let into a post office in West Australia because he looked like an Iraqi. He told me how to get free pool (stick 2 5cent pieces together and whack them in the 2 dollar slot and youse saved Dollar 90!), so I showed him how to poke the washing machine system just right to save $3/$4 in return. There's way too many Fred stories to list here. Oh yeah, Fred taught me how to make pumpkin soup, which is well nice.
Another commendable character was Lea, the German who had hitch-hiked her way all up the east coast (about 2000km). After Port Macquarie, she managed to get a lift further up the coast on a Caramaran with a timber millionaire.
So on the second day, I decided I'd go on a mega walk, no matter what the weather. And of course it rained all day, though my ultra fashionable pac-a-mac kept me and my bag (which was stowed under the coat like the hunchback of Notre-Dame) bone dry. I could see the potential for this place being awesome on a dry day - there's loads of small beaches that you could easily find no one else on. Plus the surf was quite good, though I didn't really fancy going for a dip when I couldn't feel my hands.
By the time my photocopied map had disintegrated in the wet, I fancied some chow, so I hit up a fish n chip shop staffed by obese people. Sure enough, the chip portion size was copious!
Fuelled up and ready to rock, I started wandering out of town. Seeing a sign for a Koala Sanctuary, I decided I'd find a shortcut to it, for fun. Through branches, spiders, dog poo and backgardens I adventured, keeping a low profile so the enemy didn't spot me (and so that I didn't bump into head-height spiderwebs and have the paranoia of a great big hairy arachnid sneaking its way around me).
Finding the Sanctuary, I spent a while looking at the cold masupials with their various ailments. A lot of them had Clamydia; aparently most koalas have it! Some were blinded by bushfires, with patchy fur, which would have tugged on the heart strings of the hardiest man.
The following day was ANZAC day - where the whole of Oz has a public holiday, celebrating/commemorating their defeat against the Turks in WW2. Aparently it was bad British intel that sent them to the wrong place, so fleets of naval units were sunk before they even got close to the cliffs.
In modern days, ANZAC day is a good party and a chance to play (legally) the outlawed gambling game of '2 up'. I watched about 50 men get excited about 3 coins being thrown in the air and betting sometimes $100 on the totally random and equally chanced outcome. At the same pub there was a free BBQ, so we helped our selves to that happily, though a throat infection at the time made it painful to swallow any food or drink, let alone crusty bread rolls!
I spent the rest of the day/night in pubs trying to figure out what the difference between XXXX, Carlton, Victoria Bitter and Tooheys was with a guy called Jack from the south of England. Not much really, but people seem to have a strong aliegence to their drink for some reason. Jack and his girlfriend had been to Thailand recently, so it was good to get some tips on places to go and see.
The people always seem to make the place, especially if the weather or place is a bit crappy - Lea, Jack, Katey and Fred I met up with at another time, which is cool. If the weather was better, would I have made as good friends with them? Who knows... One person that did put a downer on things was the Hostel manger. Why was she always annoyed with everything? I never saw her smile! I managed to get from her that she'd moved out to oz from mid-north england, so I couldn't see what she was so sour faced about everything. To make things more wierd, she asked for $10 when I asked if she could post on my phone when it got to the hostel (behind me), though the price label only said $4...
Newcastle, Paula, Wine Tasting and stepping on Jelly fish
It was when I arrived at Newcastle that I realised I'd lost my phone! D'oh! Fortunately some Saint had handed it in, and it would eventually find its way to me.
Newcastle, like its British namesake, is very industry based, and so loads of Ozzies I met advised me against it! It was quite a dead town, unfortunately, with most places shutting at 4pm daily, leaving the centre of the city dead apart from a few punks skateboarding.
I went for a wander the day after I arrived, on a massive beach which culminated in a huge lighthouse on a headland. Apparently there was a body boarding competition going on, which wasn't very good, because there were decent waves. The weather was still overcast and spitting intermittently, the wind making the seas choppier than a knife factory. Some brave fishermen were enduring the elements on some rocks that were frequently covered by water and spray, being backed by 2 pelicans that thought there was some dinner at stake.
After doing a little bit of rock pooling, I walked out to the sea wall via the large beach, where I discovered that stepping on dead jellyfish is not only safe (dead stingers), but similarly satisfying as popping bubble wrap! Pop!
After playing a game of Kings with some beefy, over wired Canadians and thoroughly impressing them with my capacity for cheap wine, we went to the only club in town, and I didn't spend a single Cent!! Brilliant, all I'd bought was a $5 Clean-skins bottle of wine at the hostel!
I got bored of that so I started wandering the town. 2 minutes out of the centre, and I didn't pass a single soul in 10 minutes. Its quite cool, being on your own, in decent-ish weather (not rain at least) and just wandering where you want to wander! I suggest that everyone does it sometime.
I'd arranged to meet up with an old School friend of Mum's Paula, the following day. Dutifully, mother nature was providing steady, soaking drizzle; the sort that makes you blink. Paula rolled up with her husband, Alf, in their 4x4 and we went on a little journey, showing me the areas around Newcastle. Taking me to my first ever winery for a tasting and then to Port Stephens where the rain had let off, leaving us high humidity on the climb to the a brilliant lookout.
Port Stephens is a tiny little town set in a sheltered bay. The surrounding geography is just like that in the TV series, 'Lost' - peaked temperate rainforests rolling steeply down to a huge crescent moon beach that extends for miles. I never got to go on any of the beaches, but they looked deserted enough to go skinny dipping safely!
After some proper fish n chips, we went back to their house for a cup of tea, where I was fascinated to hear about Alf's exotic array of pets as a kid - monkeys, snakes, spiders, chimps and more.
The following day I embarked on the least busy day tour I've ever been on. With only one other person on it and then the mullet-ridden bus driver ("call me Russ, mate, my real name's David, but thats another story"!), I thought the day could be a drag. Fortunately it turned out to be good fun and educational - visiting about 6 different wineries and trying to taste most of their wines, red, white and other, my mind was both stimulated and abused by the volume of alcohol consumed. I was drinking it slowly enough to stay sort of sober, but I started to get that heavy, tired feeling after our lunch. A word of warning! Never try a chilli liquor! Nearly sipping it, as we'd done with all other wines and liquors, we (me and Sam the American chick) were hastily told by our dealer to do it as a shot. Instantly I thought 'Oo, thats a little warm'! Then it started getting going, making my mouth see why it was called "Dragon's Breath".
Chasing with a white chocolate liquor (mmm, tasty) didn't really help, and my stomach was asking what the hell was going on, so we went for some sub-par chicken and chips for luncheon.
What I brought away from the tour was that I enjoy lighter red wines, as well as bubbly reds. I hate Chardonnay, and Port can be good! Just drink it within a week or something.
After watching Toy Story with some Brits I'd end up meeting again randomly in Byron Bay and discussing how old we felt now since they released the 10th anniversary edition of the film, I went to bed (top bunk, no ladder), and slept like a baby, my liver pickling up nicely.
Newcastle, like its British namesake, is very industry based, and so loads of Ozzies I met advised me against it! It was quite a dead town, unfortunately, with most places shutting at 4pm daily, leaving the centre of the city dead apart from a few punks skateboarding.
I went for a wander the day after I arrived, on a massive beach which culminated in a huge lighthouse on a headland. Apparently there was a body boarding competition going on, which wasn't very good, because there were decent waves. The weather was still overcast and spitting intermittently, the wind making the seas choppier than a knife factory. Some brave fishermen were enduring the elements on some rocks that were frequently covered by water and spray, being backed by 2 pelicans that thought there was some dinner at stake.
After doing a little bit of rock pooling, I walked out to the sea wall via the large beach, where I discovered that stepping on dead jellyfish is not only safe (dead stingers), but similarly satisfying as popping bubble wrap! Pop!
After playing a game of Kings with some beefy, over wired Canadians and thoroughly impressing them with my capacity for cheap wine, we went to the only club in town, and I didn't spend a single Cent!! Brilliant, all I'd bought was a $5 Clean-skins bottle of wine at the hostel!
I got bored of that so I started wandering the town. 2 minutes out of the centre, and I didn't pass a single soul in 10 minutes. Its quite cool, being on your own, in decent-ish weather (not rain at least) and just wandering where you want to wander! I suggest that everyone does it sometime.
I'd arranged to meet up with an old School friend of Mum's Paula, the following day. Dutifully, mother nature was providing steady, soaking drizzle; the sort that makes you blink. Paula rolled up with her husband, Alf, in their 4x4 and we went on a little journey, showing me the areas around Newcastle. Taking me to my first ever winery for a tasting and then to Port Stephens where the rain had let off, leaving us high humidity on the climb to the a brilliant lookout.
Port Stephens is a tiny little town set in a sheltered bay. The surrounding geography is just like that in the TV series, 'Lost' - peaked temperate rainforests rolling steeply down to a huge crescent moon beach that extends for miles. I never got to go on any of the beaches, but they looked deserted enough to go skinny dipping safely!
After some proper fish n chips, we went back to their house for a cup of tea, where I was fascinated to hear about Alf's exotic array of pets as a kid - monkeys, snakes, spiders, chimps and more.
The following day I embarked on the least busy day tour I've ever been on. With only one other person on it and then the mullet-ridden bus driver ("call me Russ, mate, my real name's David, but thats another story"!), I thought the day could be a drag. Fortunately it turned out to be good fun and educational - visiting about 6 different wineries and trying to taste most of their wines, red, white and other, my mind was both stimulated and abused by the volume of alcohol consumed. I was drinking it slowly enough to stay sort of sober, but I started to get that heavy, tired feeling after our lunch. A word of warning! Never try a chilli liquor! Nearly sipping it, as we'd done with all other wines and liquors, we (me and Sam the American chick) were hastily told by our dealer to do it as a shot. Instantly I thought 'Oo, thats a little warm'! Then it started getting going, making my mouth see why it was called "Dragon's Breath".
Chasing with a white chocolate liquor (mmm, tasty) didn't really help, and my stomach was asking what the hell was going on, so we went for some sub-par chicken and chips for luncheon.
What I brought away from the tour was that I enjoy lighter red wines, as well as bubbly reds. I hate Chardonnay, and Port can be good! Just drink it within a week or something.
After watching Toy Story with some Brits I'd end up meeting again randomly in Byron Bay and discussing how old we felt now since they released the 10th anniversary edition of the film, I went to bed (top bunk, no ladder), and slept like a baby, my liver pickling up nicely.
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