Well, the clouds and showers of Brisbane were too much for a softie like me so I booked some cheapo flights (oh alright, Trish did...) up to the Whitsunday Islands.
The brochures were full of bright blue skies and white sandy beaches and June was supposed to be one of the best months to see the sights- no wind, calm waters and sunshine- Woo Hoo!
I said cheerio to Trish and plodded up the road to the train station.
It was a bit sad saying goodbye, i'd got used to seeing her all the time and then as i hit the road avec le backpaque once more, it dawned on me that I wouldn't be seeing her for a while...
ho hum, I was off on a trip to paradise so it wasn't too hard to cheer myself up.
The flight up to Proserpine was uneventful, well, that is until we approached the landing strip at the other end...
The wheels were fully lowered, the tops of the trees almost at eye level, we were strapped in and ready for the bump as we made contact with the tarmac... and then it just didn't happen.
In a roar of jet engines, clanks and squealing metal we managed to pull up off the runway and back into the sky. The plane was shaking and so were we.
The cabin staff looked petrified and i'm not sure that my heart could have pounded any louder than it was in that moment of repressed panic.
The intercom clicked on and we heard the quivering voice of the captain trying to sound confident and reassuring as he explained that we had nearly ploughed into something on the runway. No details, we didn't know if it was a cow or another plane, it was just a relief to be back in the air and away from the very hard ground.
We landed properly second time around and it was accompanied by an audible 'phew' from the passengers and crew alike.
It was so dramatic, in fact, that it wasn't until the transfer coach was winding its way into Airlie Beach that I noticed the Sun was not shining.
Aghhhh.
Dagnammit!
I'd brought the weather with me, once again.
Airlie Beach is a hole.
Well, maybe it would be nice if it wasn't for the fifty-million or so 18 yr old backpackers staggering and chundering their way about the place.
Mostly from Blighty, of course.
You can feel the pavement reverberate in time to the bass rhythm of pop disco/cheese/karaoke bars.
I'm invited to wrestle in jelly, enter a wet T-shirt comp and various other activities which nearly make me get violent with the airheaded bimbo handing me flyers.
I had to get out.
I book a trip on one of the billions of advertised boat trips around the islands.
Tall Ship, cheaper than others and it leaves tommorrow- perfect.
It is not until I rock up to the dock and see my fellow shipmates that it becomes apparent that I am to be the only singleton on board...
choice.
I tell myself that this is not a problem but as we head out to the open sea, cold winds blasting us from all directions, they all cuddle up with their 'other halves' and i'm left shivering and feeling unusually single.
oops, time to go, i'll finish this some other time....
06 July 2005
05 July 2005
Dreaming festival part 2...
I enter the rainbow coloured, hippy-bell jingly jangly world of fellow whitey crusties amid a smattering of brown-skinned 'indigenous' folk, festival site.
It was pretty ace, actually.
everyone was very healthy and smiley, drinking Chi tea and herbal infusions instead of the usual aussie lager.
I went to a few lectures about indigenous legal rights over the land/ fruits of the land/ medicinal plants etc. which were all very interesting and full of nice, right-on earth-huggers.
Apparently, you can now be called a 'tree-hogger', as in 'one who hugs a tree for so long that no-one else gets a look in...'
excellent.
then I went to listen to 2 dudes have an open chat about life in an aboriginal Mission town- Cherbourg, NQLD. One of the guys (Chris Sarra)was the principal of the local high school there and had achieved all sorts of amazing things over the past 6 years... I even made notes, just like at Uni.
the other fella' was Kev Carmody, a dead famous folk/ protest singer, and writer. He was badgered into singing a song by the crowd and had everyone laughing away at his tales full of past (and present) prejudice and full-on racism- amazing thing that, to be able to laugh at things so terrible.
I ate my lunch on a patch of grass in front of the dance circle. Troupes from all over the Pacific and Australasia, the US and Papua New Guinnea performed as i tucked into my home-made cheese sarnie.
Sweat was flicked from dreaded hair into the faces of the awestruck crowd and they loved it!
Then i went to the Traditional Maori Healing workshop and somehow learnt more about NZ Maoris than I have in the whole 4 months i've been living with them... I'm really keen to do a course in traditional 'miri miri' massage now... we'll see...
It's amazing what a potato can do. Await further blogs for all the, quite literally, juicy details of this healing veg!
I had to hitch back to Caboolture before dark and I was picked up by two lovely gorgeous boys from Brisbane. they were both screen-writers and were very amusing. I told them I was thinking about writing a novel and they said that considering we had already discussed hitch-hiker knifings (i was carrying my penknife, just in case...), mercenaries from Honduras, snakes in Africa, dead bodies, crusty hippy festivals, musical healing, rubbish tattoos and sweet addiction in the past half hour, I probably should.
If only as an outlet for all my travel stories...
Back to Brissy then, and i bought a train ticket even though nobody checked.
It was pretty ace, actually.
everyone was very healthy and smiley, drinking Chi tea and herbal infusions instead of the usual aussie lager.
I went to a few lectures about indigenous legal rights over the land/ fruits of the land/ medicinal plants etc. which were all very interesting and full of nice, right-on earth-huggers.
Apparently, you can now be called a 'tree-hogger', as in 'one who hugs a tree for so long that no-one else gets a look in...'
excellent.
then I went to listen to 2 dudes have an open chat about life in an aboriginal Mission town- Cherbourg, NQLD. One of the guys (Chris Sarra)was the principal of the local high school there and had achieved all sorts of amazing things over the past 6 years... I even made notes, just like at Uni.
the other fella' was Kev Carmody, a dead famous folk/ protest singer, and writer. He was badgered into singing a song by the crowd and had everyone laughing away at his tales full of past (and present) prejudice and full-on racism- amazing thing that, to be able to laugh at things so terrible.
I ate my lunch on a patch of grass in front of the dance circle. Troupes from all over the Pacific and Australasia, the US and Papua New Guinnea performed as i tucked into my home-made cheese sarnie.
Sweat was flicked from dreaded hair into the faces of the awestruck crowd and they loved it!
Then i went to the Traditional Maori Healing workshop and somehow learnt more about NZ Maoris than I have in the whole 4 months i've been living with them... I'm really keen to do a course in traditional 'miri miri' massage now... we'll see...
It's amazing what a potato can do. Await further blogs for all the, quite literally, juicy details of this healing veg!
I had to hitch back to Caboolture before dark and I was picked up by two lovely gorgeous boys from Brisbane. they were both screen-writers and were very amusing. I told them I was thinking about writing a novel and they said that considering we had already discussed hitch-hiker knifings (i was carrying my penknife, just in case...), mercenaries from Honduras, snakes in Africa, dead bodies, crusty hippy festivals, musical healing, rubbish tattoos and sweet addiction in the past half hour, I probably should.
If only as an outlet for all my travel stories...
Back to Brissy then, and i bought a train ticket even though nobody checked.
Memory test # 1
Ok.
Trip to Australia, Part one.
After the intensely frightening journey up to Auckland minus windscreen-wipers, and three evenings spent listening to the cat calls and shrieks of the local transvestite population of the 'K" Road, the prospect of 3 lazy weeks in the sunshine state of Queensland was tempting indeed.
I landed in the afternoon and was met by big sis after an hour of 'random' searches, interrogation and light bodily frisking- getting quite used to this now, it's actually got to the point where i'll start feeling a little uneasy if they don't immediately pull me out of line...
Anyway, I'd arrived and it was nice and warm after the antartic winds of NZ.
Trish took me 'round to meet her friend Kev. He was hungover, and looked it. Little did I know this fella would become my arch nemesis/banter-partner over the next few poker evenings...
Erm, first week is a bit of a blur.
I managed to damage the Posterior cruciate ligament in my knee by sitting down too suddenly, (or perhaps not suddenly enough), on Trish's toilet.
Kind of pathetic when you think of all the hill-running, surfing, netball, swimming and everything else i've been putting them through.
toilet 1, me 0.
Trish put me through my paces at her gym- mainly uper body strength due to toilet injury.
Then i went to the Indigenous arts fest (see separate blog...)
And soon enough it was time for my holiday within a holiday to the Whitsunday Islands...
Trip to Australia, Part one.
After the intensely frightening journey up to Auckland minus windscreen-wipers, and three evenings spent listening to the cat calls and shrieks of the local transvestite population of the 'K" Road, the prospect of 3 lazy weeks in the sunshine state of Queensland was tempting indeed.
I landed in the afternoon and was met by big sis after an hour of 'random' searches, interrogation and light bodily frisking- getting quite used to this now, it's actually got to the point where i'll start feeling a little uneasy if they don't immediately pull me out of line...
Anyway, I'd arrived and it was nice and warm after the antartic winds of NZ.
Trish took me 'round to meet her friend Kev. He was hungover, and looked it. Little did I know this fella would become my arch nemesis/banter-partner over the next few poker evenings...
Erm, first week is a bit of a blur.
I managed to damage the Posterior cruciate ligament in my knee by sitting down too suddenly, (or perhaps not suddenly enough), on Trish's toilet.
Kind of pathetic when you think of all the hill-running, surfing, netball, swimming and everything else i've been putting them through.
toilet 1, me 0.
Trish put me through my paces at her gym- mainly uper body strength due to toilet injury.
Then i went to the Indigenous arts fest (see separate blog...)
And soon enough it was time for my holiday within a holiday to the Whitsunday Islands...
Long time no type...
Hello my lovelies!
I'm back in front of a keyboard at last.
I was going to go into extreme detail about my hols in Oz etc but I haven't the energy at the moment. Alas, you just get to see the highlights...
enjoy!
I'm back in front of a keyboard at last.
I was going to go into extreme detail about my hols in Oz etc but I haven't the energy at the moment. Alas, you just get to see the highlights...
enjoy!
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