Way, way back in January, I wrote a post on this blog about how I was beset with endless choices about what I wanted to do while in Australia. I had just arrived, and was overwhelmed with the amount of amazing (and expensive) tours that were available to me. There was one tour, however, that stuck out above all the rest in terms of sheer awesomeness: a 5 day Learn-to-Dive course on the Great Barrier Reef that included a 3 day live aboard dive cruise. I knew from the get go that I wouldn’t leave Australia before taking part in this adventure. No matter where I went, the tour was always in the back of my mind, and when I left Fraser Island with a little over a week to spare in my Australian excursion, I knew exactly where I was headed.
It’s a good thing I followed my instincts, because it was fucking awesome.
My first stop was the city of Cairns, gateway to the Great Barrier Reef. It took me a bus ride, a boat ride, another bus ride, a train, a plane, and over 24 hours of travel to make it there, but I would do it again in a heartbeat. My fist two days were spent learning how to dive in the pool at the Pro-Dive training center in Cairns with my instructor Al, who, despite being fairly serious and at times scary, could do nothing to subdue my enthusiasm that holy shit I am breathing UNDERWATER. The pool training was so exciting to me that I was worried that I’d have an aneurysm as soon as I set fin in the reef.
The on-reef program consisted of 4 guided training dives to complete my open water certification, and then 5 independent dives, including an optional guided night dive. From the first time I hit the water to my last slow and gradual surface ascent, my mouth was wide open, and not just because I had a regulator in it for breathing. I may not have had an aneurysm, but I’m pretty sure I wet myself when I saw my first turtle, nonchalantly munching on coral while groups of divers swam next to him taking pictures. It’s a good thing that you can’t speak or make noise underwater, because I pretty much spent every dive making loud surprised noises whenever I saw anything even remotely interesting.
It would take me days to write out a complete synopsis of the trip, but thankfully I was smart enough to rent an underwater camera for the duration of the cruise. I was able to take a few decent pictures, including not only the turtle, but also the clown fish the coral the stingrays the THREE different kinds of sharks found on ONE dive the….
You get the point.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Day 134: We're Very Close to the End
My, how time has flown.
I arrived on Fraser Island seven weeks ago, unsure of what I was getting myself into, as usual, and not knowing what to expect. It seems like I’m still trying to learn all of my co-worker’s names (to be fair, 70% of my co-workers are Korean immigrants who speak limited English) and yet I’ll be heading off the island tomorrow. All in all, I’d give the whole experience good marks. I’ve got a pretty decent cash wad stored up in my aussie bank account, and I’ve made some pretty good friends here, but I can’t say that I’m going to miss the Fraser Island locale terribly. Maybe it’s because of my impending return to the states, which has me about as excited as a crack addict on a multi day bender, or maybe its because backpackers aren’t meant to be chained to one spot for too long. All I know is that my feet are itching to tread new ground.
Cleaning out my tiny cell block (I won’t bother calling it an apartment) I realized that I’d be repacking my bags for the last time tomorrow. I’ll be back to living out of my suitcase for my last 10 days in Australia before coming home to a permanent room once again. I’ve got a pretty awesome adventure planned for my last week in Australia, hence my leaving Fraser island before June 3rd. I’m a big believer in going out with a bang, and this upcoming escapade definitely qualifies as a bang.
I arrived on Fraser Island seven weeks ago, unsure of what I was getting myself into, as usual, and not knowing what to expect. It seems like I’m still trying to learn all of my co-worker’s names (to be fair, 70% of my co-workers are Korean immigrants who speak limited English) and yet I’ll be heading off the island tomorrow. All in all, I’d give the whole experience good marks. I’ve got a pretty decent cash wad stored up in my aussie bank account, and I’ve made some pretty good friends here, but I can’t say that I’m going to miss the Fraser Island locale terribly. Maybe it’s because of my impending return to the states, which has me about as excited as a crack addict on a multi day bender, or maybe its because backpackers aren’t meant to be chained to one spot for too long. All I know is that my feet are itching to tread new ground.
Cleaning out my tiny cell block (I won’t bother calling it an apartment) I realized that I’d be repacking my bags for the last time tomorrow. I’ll be back to living out of my suitcase for my last 10 days in Australia before coming home to a permanent room once again. I’ve got a pretty awesome adventure planned for my last week in Australia, hence my leaving Fraser island before June 3rd. I’m a big believer in going out with a bang, and this upcoming escapade definitely qualifies as a bang.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Day 107: Stories From Fraser Island
Life on Fraser Island is pretty secluded. With one bakery, one general store, and some scattered housing, I imagine it is fairly similar to the American mid-west. Nothing has happened here that deserves its own blog post, but there are a few amusing anecdotes to share:
1. The wildlife here is pretty crazy. Lizards ranging from 2 inches to 2 feet have been seen running across the grass in front of my building, plus the other night I saw a snake that I’m fairly sure was a Death Adder (one of the top five most poisonous snakes in the world). Today in my room, however, I noticed one of the aforementioned 2-inch lizards stuck between my bathroom window and the outer screen. Not wanting him to starve and die, I moved the window around, trying to let him free. He ended up in my bathroom, and when I grabbed him by the tail to pick him up, he fell to the floor and I was left with a twitching lizard tail in my hand.
2. I was serving dinner one night in the restaurant, clearing plates off tables, when a girl on one of the tours waved me over. She said that she didn’t want to seem weird, but said she recognized me and asked if I was from Canada. Being bored, I said that I was. She then asked if I had arrived in Sydney around the middle of January. That was indeed when I arrived, so I continued playing 20 questions with her. Her next question: “Were you ever hanging out with a guy named Clarke?” Wow, that’s awkward, I guess she did recognize me. Turns out she remembered me from one night I spent hanging out with her while I was still in Sydney. Small world.
3. Fraser Island is famous for having the last population of purebred dingoes in all of Australia. I wasn’t really impressed, until someone told me that the dingoes of Fraser Island are also famous for eating babies and other small children, and that they hunted like the velociraptors from Jurassic Park, with velociraptor flanking maneuvers and everything. With that in mind, you can imagine my surprise when a pair of dingoes came upon me on the beach one night. I jumped up and instantly checked over my shoulder, but luckily my size intimidated them and they kept moving, no doubt looking for an unguarded baby.
4. There is also a bar on the resort, where employees and overnight tour groups can go to party. A few nights ago, a pair of American girls were down at the bar and were causing quite a stir among the male staff members. I assumed that my being from America would give me an edge over my co-workers, so I went to talk to them. Everything was going fine, until I got up to order drinks at the bar with one of them. Before our drinks arrived, in the middle of conversation, the girl I am talking to yells out “IT SMELLS LIKE BIGFOOTS DICK IN HERE!”
That was my cue to give up, and possibly go home and put on more deoderant.
1. The wildlife here is pretty crazy. Lizards ranging from 2 inches to 2 feet have been seen running across the grass in front of my building, plus the other night I saw a snake that I’m fairly sure was a Death Adder (one of the top five most poisonous snakes in the world). Today in my room, however, I noticed one of the aforementioned 2-inch lizards stuck between my bathroom window and the outer screen. Not wanting him to starve and die, I moved the window around, trying to let him free. He ended up in my bathroom, and when I grabbed him by the tail to pick him up, he fell to the floor and I was left with a twitching lizard tail in my hand.
2. I was serving dinner one night in the restaurant, clearing plates off tables, when a girl on one of the tours waved me over. She said that she didn’t want to seem weird, but said she recognized me and asked if I was from Canada. Being bored, I said that I was. She then asked if I had arrived in Sydney around the middle of January. That was indeed when I arrived, so I continued playing 20 questions with her. Her next question: “Were you ever hanging out with a guy named Clarke?” Wow, that’s awkward, I guess she did recognize me. Turns out she remembered me from one night I spent hanging out with her while I was still in Sydney. Small world.
3. Fraser Island is famous for having the last population of purebred dingoes in all of Australia. I wasn’t really impressed, until someone told me that the dingoes of Fraser Island are also famous for eating babies and other small children, and that they hunted like the velociraptors from Jurassic Park, with velociraptor flanking maneuvers and everything. With that in mind, you can imagine my surprise when a pair of dingoes came upon me on the beach one night. I jumped up and instantly checked over my shoulder, but luckily my size intimidated them and they kept moving, no doubt looking for an unguarded baby.
4. There is also a bar on the resort, where employees and overnight tour groups can go to party. A few nights ago, a pair of American girls were down at the bar and were causing quite a stir among the male staff members. I assumed that my being from America would give me an edge over my co-workers, so I went to talk to them. Everything was going fine, until I got up to order drinks at the bar with one of them. Before our drinks arrived, in the middle of conversation, the girl I am talking to yells out “IT SMELLS LIKE BIGFOOTS DICK IN HERE!”
That was my cue to give up, and possibly go home and put on more deoderant.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Day 91: Surprise!
I'm no longer living in Melbourne! After working at the Melbourne Grand Prix, I decided to pack up my things and continue to drift aimlessly throughout Australia. As comfortable as I was living in Melbourne, during my last few weeks I started getting a travelers itch, a desire to move and see new places, so I returned to Sydney to plan the next stage of my trip.
Double surprise! I'm no longer in Sydney either.
I returned to Sydney right at the end of March, and spent a few days in the city as I had planned. I talked to some travel agents, spent some time at the offices of my job service, and was busy deciding what to do next when I experienced some good fortune. As I was surfing the internet at the Work and Travel Company offices, one of the job consultants came and asked me if I had any restaurant experience, and said the four magic words every traveler wants to hear: "Interested in resort work?"
Two days of bus and plane travel later I arrived on Fraser Island, a 75 mile long all-sand island off the coast of Queensland. The island is covered by a sub-tropical rain forest, with a small beach-side resort situated on the eastern coast. The resort is a tourism hub, serving as a base for people exploring the island's many bright blue freshwater lakes, and white sand beaches from the comfort of their SUVs.
The resort has one large restaurant area, and does buffet service at lunch and dinner, as well as some regular sit down meals in the evening. My average day starts at around 10, setting up for the lunch service. I work to just after 2, mostly busing tables, and then I have anywhere from 2 to 4 hours off before dinner starts, where I'm free to explore the island, or simply lie on the beach. After relaxing all afternoon, I work the restaurant during dinner, waiting the occasional table and acting as the host. I have my own room, including bathroom, and 3 meals a day provided by the restaurant.
Can I get a "Hell Yeah!"?
Double surprise! I'm no longer in Sydney either.
I returned to Sydney right at the end of March, and spent a few days in the city as I had planned. I talked to some travel agents, spent some time at the offices of my job service, and was busy deciding what to do next when I experienced some good fortune. As I was surfing the internet at the Work and Travel Company offices, one of the job consultants came and asked me if I had any restaurant experience, and said the four magic words every traveler wants to hear: "Interested in resort work?"
Two days of bus and plane travel later I arrived on Fraser Island, a 75 mile long all-sand island off the coast of Queensland. The island is covered by a sub-tropical rain forest, with a small beach-side resort situated on the eastern coast. The resort is a tourism hub, serving as a base for people exploring the island's many bright blue freshwater lakes, and white sand beaches from the comfort of their SUVs.
The resort has one large restaurant area, and does buffet service at lunch and dinner, as well as some regular sit down meals in the evening. My average day starts at around 10, setting up for the lunch service. I work to just after 2, mostly busing tables, and then I have anywhere from 2 to 4 hours off before dinner starts, where I'm free to explore the island, or simply lie on the beach. After relaxing all afternoon, I work the restaurant during dinner, waiting the occasional table and acting as the host. I have my own room, including bathroom, and 3 meals a day provided by the restaurant.
Can I get a "Hell Yeah!"?
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Day 79: This ain't no Mario Kart
It seems like forever ago that I packed up my bags and moved to Melbourne with promises of wonderful employment ringing in my ears. Despite the fact that those promises turned out to be false, I stuck around Melbourne because of my awesome apartment and managed to salvage the situation to a certain degree. I had a comfortable existence with food, entertainment, and at least one decent house mate. I soon forgot why I came to Melbourne in the first place, so you can imagine my surprise when the Melbourne Grand Prix rolled around, and I was contacted as a potential worker by the company that brought me to Melbourne in the first place. Not being one to turn down money and free entertainment, I reported for duty on the first day of the Melbourne Grand Prix.
I've never spent any time in the southern United States, or followed NASCAR at all, but if there are any similarities to the Formula 1 Grand Prix, then count me out. Even without the huge redneck stigma racing carries in the states, the Australian racing scene is much of the same: a very repetitive "sport" made more interesting by copious consumption of beer. The festival that surrounds the event, however, was at least mildly entertaining. The highlights:
1. Entertaining crashes: I happened to be standing around doing nothing during one of the more interesting moments of the weekend. One of several side-event races had just begun, consisting of luxury sports cars turned in to speed machines, when one of the drivers had to swerve to avoid a stalled car. He went off the road, smashed in to the wall and rebounded back on to the track directly into the middle of the pack of cars beginning the race. Nothing cures boredom like a literal 20 car pile-up of BMW's, Ferrari's, and Vipers.
2. Kangaroo Men: The festival surrounding the Grand Prix bares some resemblance to Seafair, including the bizarrely dressed performers, and without a doubt the most eye-catching of these performers were two men dressed as kangaroos, complete with spring loaded stilts. The stilts were disguised by enormous fake furry legs and feet, part of an ensemble that included tan body suits, furry kangaroo abs, a giant furry tale, and giant furry kangaroo balls... Thats right. The costumes were so detailed that they even included detachable furry balls.
I ran to get my camera as soon as I saw them, completely abandoning my work, but was crushed when I returned to find that they had moved on. Without a doubt, the most disappointing moment of the weekend.
I've never spent any time in the southern United States, or followed NASCAR at all, but if there are any similarities to the Formula 1 Grand Prix, then count me out. Even without the huge redneck stigma racing carries in the states, the Australian racing scene is much of the same: a very repetitive "sport" made more interesting by copious consumption of beer. The festival that surrounds the event, however, was at least mildly entertaining. The highlights:
1. Entertaining crashes: I happened to be standing around doing nothing during one of the more interesting moments of the weekend. One of several side-event races had just begun, consisting of luxury sports cars turned in to speed machines, when one of the drivers had to swerve to avoid a stalled car. He went off the road, smashed in to the wall and rebounded back on to the track directly into the middle of the pack of cars beginning the race. Nothing cures boredom like a literal 20 car pile-up of BMW's, Ferrari's, and Vipers.
2. Kangaroo Men: The festival surrounding the Grand Prix bares some resemblance to Seafair, including the bizarrely dressed performers, and without a doubt the most eye-catching of these performers were two men dressed as kangaroos, complete with spring loaded stilts. The stilts were disguised by enormous fake furry legs and feet, part of an ensemble that included tan body suits, furry kangaroo abs, a giant furry tale, and giant furry kangaroo balls... Thats right. The costumes were so detailed that they even included detachable furry balls.
I ran to get my camera as soon as I saw them, completely abandoning my work, but was crushed when I returned to find that they had moved on. Without a doubt, the most disappointing moment of the weekend.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Day 71: Important Life Lessons Halfway Through my Trip
It’s been awhile since I’ve written something up here, but in my defense not much has been happening. I’ll be doing an update more geared towards my future plans after the weekend, but for now I want to talk about an issue near and dear to my heart. Having Roommates.
Having a roommate in college is something I am now very much prepared for. I will go so far as to say that, for whoever is stuck sharing a room with me next year, the phrase “hosing lottery” will suddenly make a great deal of sense. I’m not saying that I am some perfect, godlike human being who is both smart and fun to hang out with, but I am saying that I have learned several things that make having me as a roommate, metaphorically, a prize. All of the following lessons I have learned from my wonderful French housemate Chris:
1. For starters, I will never use another person’s toiletries, because I am not a smelly Frenchman.
2. I will never leave the scraps of an entire roast chicken sitting out over night, and then giggle like a stupid Frenchman when confronted about my mess the next morning.I won’t simply ignore the horde of tiny flies that take up residence in our kitchen after said chicken incident, simply because I am French and used to wallowing in filth.
3. I won’t simply ignore the horde of tiny flies that take up residence in our kitchen after said chicken incident, simply because I am French and used to wallowing in filth.
4. I will let you know if I happen to have a lady friend over at night, instead of letting you walk in on us, because I am courteous and not some rude French person.
5. Most importantly, I will never, ever, ever, be French.
These lessons may seem oddly specific, but I find that they are incredibly important rules to follow for anyone wishing to be a good roommate for another person
(Authors Note: I am in no way shape or form seriously disparaging the French people as a whole, merely one person who happens to be French, and somehow meets every single stereotype of the French I as an American have ever known)
Having a roommate in college is something I am now very much prepared for. I will go so far as to say that, for whoever is stuck sharing a room with me next year, the phrase “hosing lottery” will suddenly make a great deal of sense. I’m not saying that I am some perfect, godlike human being who is both smart and fun to hang out with, but I am saying that I have learned several things that make having me as a roommate, metaphorically, a prize. All of the following lessons I have learned from my wonderful French housemate Chris:
1. For starters, I will never use another person’s toiletries, because I am not a smelly Frenchman.
2. I will never leave the scraps of an entire roast chicken sitting out over night, and then giggle like a stupid Frenchman when confronted about my mess the next morning.I won’t simply ignore the horde of tiny flies that take up residence in our kitchen after said chicken incident, simply because I am French and used to wallowing in filth.
3. I won’t simply ignore the horde of tiny flies that take up residence in our kitchen after said chicken incident, simply because I am French and used to wallowing in filth.
4. I will let you know if I happen to have a lady friend over at night, instead of letting you walk in on us, because I am courteous and not some rude French person.
5. Most importantly, I will never, ever, ever, be French.
These lessons may seem oddly specific, but I find that they are incredibly important rules to follow for anyone wishing to be a good roommate for another person
(Authors Note: I am in no way shape or form seriously disparaging the French people as a whole, merely one person who happens to be French, and somehow meets every single stereotype of the French I as an American have ever known)
Monday, March 1, 2010
Day 51: On Striking Gold
It may have taken a little longer than expected, but my luck has finally turned 12 days after finding that magical $50 lying in the street.
My new roommate Kashka may be the cleverest functional retard I have ever met. No matter how much he puts his foot in his mouth or how often he seems completely confused by simple tasks, underneath it all he is a genius. Case in point: after being taught poker by Clarke and I last week, and making some of the dumbest bets I’ve ever seen while learning, the three of us went to the casino last Friday night, but he was the only one of us who came out with more money than he entered with. So when he recommended that I go looking for work on Smith Street a few blocks from the apartment, I took his advice.
It was like finding treasure buried in my backyard.
As it turns out, I’m living within walking distance of the factory outlet of every major athletic and outdoor clothing retailer in the greater Melbourne area. Adidas, Nike, Converse, and half a dozen other major clothing retailers now have my resume, and almost all of them told me they were currently hiring in some capacity or another. Not surprising, seeing as how university students are returning to classes tomorrow, but hearing the phrase “why yes, we are hiring” so many times in the same day made my heart sing. For the first time since starting my job search, I saw a business with a help wanted sign, which was truly a sight for sore eyes.
The best part of the whole experience was when I asked Kashka if he knew that so many brand name clothing companies had clearance stores right next to each other. His eyes got all wide with interest and he said “Really? I may have to go there soon.” Priceless.
My first interview is this Thursday morning. Hopefully none of these places care that all the retail experience I told them I had is completely fictional.
My new roommate Kashka may be the cleverest functional retard I have ever met. No matter how much he puts his foot in his mouth or how often he seems completely confused by simple tasks, underneath it all he is a genius. Case in point: after being taught poker by Clarke and I last week, and making some of the dumbest bets I’ve ever seen while learning, the three of us went to the casino last Friday night, but he was the only one of us who came out with more money than he entered with. So when he recommended that I go looking for work on Smith Street a few blocks from the apartment, I took his advice.
It was like finding treasure buried in my backyard.
As it turns out, I’m living within walking distance of the factory outlet of every major athletic and outdoor clothing retailer in the greater Melbourne area. Adidas, Nike, Converse, and half a dozen other major clothing retailers now have my resume, and almost all of them told me they were currently hiring in some capacity or another. Not surprising, seeing as how university students are returning to classes tomorrow, but hearing the phrase “why yes, we are hiring” so many times in the same day made my heart sing. For the first time since starting my job search, I saw a business with a help wanted sign, which was truly a sight for sore eyes.
The best part of the whole experience was when I asked Kashka if he knew that so many brand name clothing companies had clearance stores right next to each other. His eyes got all wide with interest and he said “Really? I may have to go there soon.” Priceless.
My first interview is this Thursday morning. Hopefully none of these places care that all the retail experience I told them I had is completely fictional.
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