Month: August 2015

On the Road to the Gold Coast!

Posted on by Scott Christiaan

Hoping and praying the night before that I’d wake up feeling somewhat better, you can imagine how I felt when I didn’t feel any better, but I actually felt worse. Seems I’d been afflicted by the curse of Byron Bay. I should sell that as a sequel to Pirates of the Caribbean. No paparazzi please, I’m a famous screenwriter now.

Melanie kindly dosed me up with her ultra strong Ibuprofen again, so I was as ready as I could be to face the 2 hour coach journey to Surfer’s Paradise on the Gold Coast. We stopped after an hour on the road so the driver could have a break, which I think was pretty selfish – he’d only been driving for about 7 hours previously. No stamina these Aussies.

I wasn’t too disappointed mind you, seeing as the place we stopped at had a KFC – something you don’t see a huge amount of in Australia. Only a few days previously I’d been saying to Nik how I could murder some of the Colonel’s finest and it seemed my prayers had been answered. How about giving me that lottery win now eh?

No such a bad view from the hotel...

No such a bad view from the hotel…

I couldn’t finish my meal, which is a hugely rare occurrence for me, but damn it I had the plague, so sue me. Another hour and a small snooze later and we pulled into the center of Surfer’s Paradise. Remember when I said I was skeptical that it would be another small hippy town? Well, I can kindly blow it out of my ass because this place is far, far from it. With its high rise modern glass apartments and man-made canals, the Gold Coast could easily pass as Dubai’s cousin. Our hostel was only a 5 minute walk down the road as well. Radical.

The hostel itself, if you can call it that, was amazing on first sight. I’d seen some photos of the place online and it looked

We're such a pretty bunch

We’re such a pretty bunch

amazing. Called Islander Backpackers Resort, it actually lists itself as a hotel and to be honest, that’s right. There’s a jacuzzi, large pool, tennis court, sundeck and a restaurant style kitchen. It’s what I had come to expect, being a famous screenwriter now.

Our first day we wandered about town and checked out the beach, which is freaking huge – like, 40km long or something preposterous like that. I managed to get hold of some Sudafed for my congested head….all for the tiny sum of $30. Yeah. Thanks Australia. “Don’t worry,” said Melanie, “You can just claim it back with your health insurance card”. A genius idea, but only one small problem with that: I still haven’t sorted out my health insurance. Whoops. It’s fiiiine, it isn’t like I’m going to get sick or anything……oh, wait a minute…..

We saw a fair amount of the city on the first day and the weather was definitely what I had come to expect of the Gold Coast. The only worry I had in the back of my mind was that ever since the storms started in Sydney, they had been travelling north….and so are we. They got us in Sydney, they got us in Byron, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting them to get us while we were here, too. At this rate we would get rain everyday of our lives until we reached Cairns! Goddamn Australian winter, it’s so inconsiderate.

Damn, this place could never call itself a hostel

Damn, this place could never call itself a hostel

Flip-Flops in a vending machine. Only in Australia...

Flip-Flops in a vending machine. Only in Australia…

During our travels around the city, we signed up for the big ClubCrawl event here. Now, the reps for this thing are everywhere. They’re worse than pigeons and twice as annoying. You can’t get more than 20 meters down the street before hearing “Hey guys, are you going out tonight?”. It’s tempting to pay them not to talk to me. Anyhow, one of the guys we had coincidentally ended up travelling with from Byron wanted a big night out on Saturday because it was his last weekend in Australia before flying back to the UK, so we signed up for the package. Nik, Melanie and I were a little apprehensive about it because we’re more bar people than club people, and I was still sick and this would definitely not help things, but we went along with it anyway. Seems we’re all people pleasers.

We spent the first evening in Surfer’s Paradise enjoying the hotel jacuzzi. It had been years since I had indulged in the pleasure of a bubbly bout of heaven and the warmth of the pool made me feel much better. Plus, with the absolute tragedy of missing Melanie’s participation in the wet t-shirt contest in Byron Bay, this would have to suffice as a private wet bikini contest.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: it’s a hard life, internet.

Stay frosty, y’all…

Diseased in Byron Bay

Posted on by Scott Christiaan

Sick, damn it. Sick as a goddamn dog. That’s how I spent my second day in Byron Bay and just to top it off, it decided to turn into monsoon season. Double damn it.

If you read my post from yesterday you’d remember that I was hoping a good night’s sleep would cure what ailed me. Well, it didn’t. But Melanie was kind enough to give me some of her ultra strong Ibuprofen, so I was able to feel as good as I could given the situation.

We planned to check out of the Backpackers Inn the next day to head to the Gold Coast, and with the weather being so terrible and me feeling so ill, it was pretty obvious that I wouldn’t end up seeing much of Byron Bay, other than the small town part I’d seen the day before. To be honest, Byron is really quite small and it’s a town entirely geared towards surfers (which I am not – I can’t even swim….yeah, laugh it up internet), so I wasn’t too bothered about not seeing everything there was to offer. It’s a pretty beautiful place, but you’ll notice the abundant lack of photos in the Byron blogs and I apologise internet, but I’m sick, damn it.

With the rain pouring outside, Nik and I decided to do the only thing we could – try and bounce 20c coins into a cup. Oh yes, Hasbro can suck it because we have a million dollar idea. The epic battle raged on for what seemed like centuries; both sides eager for the total victory that seemed so hard to achieve – those coins are unpredictable, damn it. We were so engaged in our war that we didn’t notice Melanie filming us on her iPhone. You’ve got to keep your eye on these Austrian girls, they’re sneaky! Anyways, check out the highly embarrassing video. Don’t say that I don’t bare all for you, internet…

Once the rain eased up we decided to play some cards – something I’m well versed in, I did it a lot when I stayed with my parents before travelling. Melanie taught us a game I’d never heard of before and it didn’t take long before we got the hang of it. I’ll just go ahead here and say that I quickly became a master of the game and beat everyone who stood before me. Whether you choose to believe that is your decision….

(I may have also lost most of the rounds, but that’s neither here nor there. We’ll still pretend I’m a master and that Melanie didn’t kick all of our asses…)

Once I had schooled all the players in the rules of the game, everybody decided to go to a club called Cheeky Monkeys for happy hour and…..wait for it…..A WET T-SHIRT CONTEST!!! Even better, Melanie agreed to take part in it because the winner’s prize was $350. What a great girl, it’s so nice to see women getting involved in sports these days.

Now, unfortunately, I definitely wasn’t able to go out, which sucked massively and I curse all the diseases in the world for casting me down in what should have been my finest hour. So I did the old-guy thing and got a early night, hoping that the worst of the illness was behind me. It’s never nice to see a good man kept down. Queue the ego trip.

Tomorrow was our 2 hour coach journey to Surfer’s Paradise on the Gold Coast and everyone we’d met had told us what a lovely place it was. With the highly original name of Surfer’s Paradise, I was a little skeptical that it would be just another surfing hippy town, but that would have to wait – this old geezer needed his sleep.

Hopefully tomorrow’s blog would yield more to write about as well!

But for now, stay frosty…

Herrgottssakramentnomal – German swearing

Posted on by Scott Christiaan

Sleep. It’s such an ignored commodity, but god knows you learn its value when you start living without it. The coach ride to Byron Bay beckoned to be a 12 hour journey through the night on a state of the art vehicle. With the exhaustion from the previous two days catching up with me in style, I was praying to deities I don’t believe in that I’d be able to sleep well on the journey.

Luckily, there were only around 10 of us on a coach designed to carry around….oh I dunno….like 60? Wondrous. With complimentary WiFi, USB charging ports, AC and reclining leather seats, Greyhound were certainly giving their customers what they paid for. Now here’s the thing with reclining seats on planes and coaches – they never recline far enough to allow you to sleep. Almost as if teasing you into a sense of luxury, the turbulence from the travel causes your head to bob from side to side, preventing you sleeping. Damn it.

Some sort of pillow was in order, I thought to myself. And with nothing to hand, I could only use my hoody as a makeshift pillow. Do I sacrifice sleep to be warm or vice versa? What would you do, internet? Send your results to 1-800-NOBODY CARES SCOTT.

We had a scheduled stop after two and a half hours, which was pretty handy seeing as, in my infinite wisdom, I forgot to take any water with me. Sometimes I really don’t help myself. I managed to doze briefly in the first stretch until the stop; only briefly because it took me all that damn time to work out the best position to sleep in. I tried everything and I’m pretty sure some of those positions were in the Karma Sutra. Not that I’ve ever read the Karma Sutra of course….

…cough….

We stopped in a petrol station, so I bought myself some much needed H2O, emptied my bladder (you know you love to hear that), ate some of the mountain of sandwiches I made at the hostel in preparation for this adventure, then set back to sleep.

I actually managed to sleep for most of the journey, but felt as if I hadn’t slept a damn wink when I arrived in Byron.

The sun was shining, the heat was high and I started to feel quite ill from what I assumed was exhaustion. I would have loved nothing more than to put my head on the pillow for a few hours, but Niklas was waiting for me at the hostel, so I had to gallantly soldier through. So brave, I know. Where’s my Nobel Prize?

The guy from the Backpackers Inn hostel gave us a brief tour of Byron from the shuttle bus and I must admit, it seemed like a very nice place. He even pointed out a ship wreck off the coast that sharks like to culminate around. Greeeat.

After checking in at the hostel, which looked like a really great place considering it’s also pretty cheap, I met up with Niklas who told me that a friend he had made was also staying in my room. Just the ice-breaker I like. So, we made our way to my room and, sure enough, there was his friend, Melanie from Austria. It’s nice to see Nik making friends outside of the German circle…

Now, Melanie is exactly the person I expected all people staying in a hostel to be: friendly, welcoming and not afraid to say hello. I also have to say really nice things about her because I know she is reading this. HI MELANIE, YOU’RE SO GREAT.

Has she gone? OK, now I can tell you the true story…

She farts in bed, she doesn’t share her food and she hates my choice of shorts….OK, none of that is true….well maybe the last one.

But, with the sun blazing down upon us, we set out to town to buy me some shorts because, as you may not know yet, I don’t wear shorts. Ever. But when it’s hitting 30C in the Australian heat, they become somewhat essential. I was even considering flip-flops, another item of attire I hate. What is happening to me? Is this what ‘finding yourself’ is all about? I don’t like it, I thought I knew what I liked!

We had to march around so many stores until we found some shorts that weren’t $100. Yes, you read that right – $100. So I bought my nice new pair of $25 shorts that I hadn’t tried on first, bought some life sustaining food and headed back. Oh! I almost forgot! We rode bicycles to town and back. That may not sound so strange to you – bicycles are a rather common means of transport. What you don’t know is that I hadn’t ridden a bike for at least 10 years. Yeah.

Now they say you never forget – and that is true. But it doesn’t mean you can’t almost fly down a grassy bank and into a parked car. That’s what happened to me as soon as we left the hostel driveway. God, why do these Germans & Austrians insist on trying to kill me?

I quickly got the hang of the old skill again, although I was pretty shaky the entire time. Hilarious for Niklas, who insisted on riding behind me so he could watch and laugh. Whatever, he’s still ginger.

Once my incredible day of Olympic style biking was over, I changed into my shorts and we headed to the beach. Now, Bondi and Manly beach were lovely, but Byron beach is huge. Like, really massive. Plus there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun was strong, even though it’s freaking winter here. We spent a few hours just laying in the sun talking about how brave and amazing I was on the bike earlier, but Nik and Melanie felt the need to go and get wet in the ocean. I’m having a bit of trouble with one of my piercings and I know how sea water can irritate it, so I stayed on the beach. Dear Melanie made sure I didn’t miss out though, by bringing the ocean to me in the form of wet hair. Ah, it’s so great to have friends…

A night of drinking beckoned – something I really wasn’t looking forward to. Now, ordinarily, it wouldn’t be a problem. But I was already feeling pretty sick and my head was feeling congested, but Nik and Melanie wanted to party and I’m a people pleaser. Or something.

The evening was good – the hostel had a live act on who was a hilarious Kiwi guy that loved the banter with us. He also offered karaoke that Nik and Melanie couldn’t resist taking part in. Great entertainment for all the family, although mostly me, who thought their rendition of Down Under was amazing. X Factor is waiting for you, guys.

I hoped that a good night’s sleep would set me right for tomorrow, but we’d have to wait and see. I really didn’t want to be sick. Plus I needed to be fresh and alert to document Nik’s hilarious antics.

But for now, stay frosty…

Farewell Sydney!

Posted on by Scott Christiaan

Productive. That’s the best way to describe my last day at the BlueParrot, and it had been a while since I’d had a day like that. Late to bed and early to rise from the big night out before, I was already feeling tired – and I had a 12 hour coach journey overnight to face! Still, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

First on the agenda was….yup, you probably guessed it by now – the bank. Jeez, I should be a bank critic, I’d be famous by now. My plan was this: draw out all my cash from ANZ, walk home hoping to Jesus I didn’t get robbed and deposit it in my new fancy Commonwealth account. Pretty simple, right? Oh, and if you’re thinking “why the hell didn’t you just do a bank transfer?”, I couldn’t because I didn’t have access to my online Commonwealth account due to lacking an Australian phone number. It never rains but it pours, internet.

Now, when I set up the account with ANZ, the branch manager himself told me I could withdraw my entire amount of funds over the counter if I wanted to. So, when I asked the teller if there was a limit to the amount I could withdraw, can you guess what she said?

Oh come now, I know you can do it, we’re talking about ANZ here…

“Yes. You can only withdraw $3000”. Predictable.

My funds were spread over an instant access and a savings account, but the tellers can’t access the savings account, so I’d have to do an online transfer. So predictable.

Anyhow, I withdrew what I had in my instant account, undertook the walk of fear back to the hostel and stopped off in some tiny phone store not far from home. One thing I’ve noticed, at least in Sydney, is the total lack of phone stores. There are a few when you head into the center of the city, but in Kings Cross where I was, there were practically none. Australia doesn’t make it easy for us travellers. Still, I like a challenge.

So I bought myself the cheapest, nastiest, born-from-the-1990s phone the guy sold for 39 bucks. That’ll do nicely; it might even have Snake on it! (it didn’t…). With my new means of communication in hand, I was finally able to use the sim card I bought from the hostel and have some sort of presence in Australia. Also, the sim card let you call some major countries for 1c a minute. Sugoi!

I rushed to the Commonwealth branch across the street (why didn’t I just start with these guys!?), updated my records, sorted out my online banking, and breathed a sigh of relief. I was finally turning the tables in my favor. Oh, how sweet that feeling was.

So after everything I had heroically done that day, I was finally ready to take my bus at 10pm and hope to god I’d be able to sleep on it. Lord knows I needed it, I was starting to feel exhausted and run down. Certainly not bueno.

For dinner I decided to eat an entire plate of vegetables. Now, I know how incredible that must sound, but understand that I hadn’t eaten a vegetable since I got to Australia. For someone that used to cook a proper meal for himself every night when I lived alone (again, so housebroken ladies), not eating a vegetable in so long was a big deal to me. Stop laughing, I swear I’m not a nerd.

As is the way with travelling, you must learn to wave goodbye to new friends when you decide to move on. But the guys I met at the BlueParrot were the first friends I’d made in Australia, so it was definitely hard to have to leave. I know most of you guys from the hostel read this, so to Lucy, Thomas, TJ, American Peter, Anthony (when he was there), Nils, Lars and even Yohann – thank you for making my time in Sydney really awesome. It definitely wouldn’t have been the same without you. Niklas is in that list too, of course, but I would be meeting up with him in Byron Bay, so it wasn’t a goodbye. All that remained was to board the coach to Byron for my epic 12 hour journey.

More new beginnings.

Stay frosty, internet….

Deutschefest!

Posted on by Scott Christiaan

Hounded. That’s how I feel at the moment. Everything in the UK seems to be trying to ruin my life even though I left. The tax office are, incorrectly, asking for money – not once, but twice; I’m still fighting to recover the sizeable deposit amount I paid for my apartment a year and a half ago; and ANZ here in Australia is making my experience of travelling as stressful – and costly – as possible. There’s some words in my mind to describe this situation and they may or may not rhyme with ‘duck fake’…

The last few days I’ve been waiting around in the hostel for the moment I can leave (depending on ANZ), but I decided “Screw it. Balls to the bank, balls to debit cards and balls to everything. I’m boarding the Greyhound bus tomorrow to Byron Bay”.

The friends I made here have kindly offered to mail my debit card to me when it arrives – that’s my Commonwealth card by the way. ANZ are dead and buried to me now. So there was no use waiting around in Sydney anymore. Thanks friendlings.

I was planning a quiet night in, just getting frustrated with the things I usually get frustrated with, when Lucy said she wanted to go out….as did TJ…..as did Lars and Nils! We still hadn’t taken our beloved Germans out for a night in Sydney, so I couldn’t pass the opportunity up. The destination? Good ol’ O’Malleys again for karaoke Monday! Awesome 🙂

So, after a few beers at home, we stepped outside to be greeted by……can you guess?……more Germans! Nils and Lars had invited some of their friends who were also in the area and they invited some of their friends until it was one big Deutschefest. Now, let me tell you something:

The Germans here have been some of the best people I’ve met.

That’s right, you read that correctly. Everybody gives them flak for being…well…German, but I’ve yet to meet a bad one on this journey. You meet many nationalities in a hostel, but they have been, generally speaking, the best of the bunch. I won’t say who scored the lowest on the ‘Awesome people ‘o’ meter’ – I’m trying to build an audience here – but the Germans are definitely sitting pretty in pole position. C’mon rest of the world, catch up.

So, TJ, Lucy, American Peter, me and half of the German population set off to the pub. O’Malleys was heaving (it appears Australia loves karaoke as much as Japan) and the atmosphere was electric. Nils and Lars had never tried Guinness – one of my favorite beverages – so $6 a piece later and they were sucking on the best invention since the internet. Now, Nils is about 6′ 9” (and he’s only 18!), so maybe I shouldn’t have been that surprised when he downed half his pint in about 20 seconds, but to say I nearly fainted would be an understatement. Lars and I were far less impressive with ours.

It’s unfortunate that we got to the bar so late (even though it closed at 3am) because it was definitely one of the better nights I’ve had in Sydney. We all had the chance to get to know our two new favorite Germans better and I had the chance to show Lars my absolutely amazing German skills…..stop laughing, goddamn it, he knew what I was saying.

Tomorrow was due to be a big day for me. I had to trek across the Himalayas again to go to my awful bank, buy a horridly cheap phone because my wonderful Sony is locked, transfer some cash between the never-ending system of bank accounts I’ve created and book my bus ticket on the Greyhound. Oh, as well as book the hostel in Byron Bay and buy some bus supplies (just imagine loads of hand sanitizer – it’s a coach with coachy people). Best of all though, Niklas had agreed to wait for me in Byron until I got the bank sorted.

See, these Germans are gems in the rough.

For now though, stay frosty…

Irish Bars and Blonde Girls

Posted on by Scott Christiaan

The early bird catches the worm. I was certainly testing that theory when I woke up just before 9am, feeling as fresh as the morning dew. My kebab hangover the day before had put me in a pretty bad mood and, after spending the evening laying on my bed surfing pointless information online, I decided to go to bed and get an early night.

After rising from the grave like an Australian Jesus and being the first person in the shower (celebrate the small victories, guys!), I was absolutely raring to go!……with nothing to do and nobody to do that nothing with. Dukes.

“I know,” I thought, “I’ll write the most amazing blog today while my creative juices are flowing.”

Just one problem with that…….I had already drafted my blog for the day. Double dukes.

Then, like a phoenix rising from the fires of eternity, Tom came to my rescue and suggested going to O’Malleys for Snakebite Sundays – a jug of snakebite for just $8! Or a jug of beer for $10. Kill me now, internet, because it doesn’t get better than this. So, once Tom had rounded up the troops from his room (just me representing Room 8 – best room in the house!), we set out to the bar with spirits high and bladders empty, ready for the night ahead. Joining the gang were four newbies from the UK staying in Tom’s room – two girls and two guys. Nobody really knew each other, but as is the advantage with alcohol, after a few drinks we were all the best of friends. The girls – Steph and Becky – were the type who loved a bit of banter with the guys – my favorite kind of woman.

The evening's chums!

Scottish Phil looking happy as always…

Now, the last time we went to O’Malleys the band were actually laughable – they played Africa by Toto – one of my favorite songs – and murdered it. I mean, a karaoke performance would have been better. Goddamn it.

This singer was better though and by the end of the night he was taking requests just from us, pretty much. I even shouted for Rammstein, trying to catch him out, and he started singing Du Hast! Damn dude, that’s impressive.

Tom showing off his fabulous jugs

Tom showing off his fabulous jugs

One of the guys in our group, Scottish Phil, started to get very friendly with Becky. Well played my friend, well played. But I started to get friendly with Steph because, gosh darn it, I am partial to the blondes. Towards the end of the night, Tom and I wanted to make the change to Scruffy Murpheys because it’s the far superior Irish bar, so we left the pub and took the train to the other side of town. By this point, one of the English guys had gone home because he was hammered and Steph was starting to feel the heat too. We stopped off in Maccas – a decision I regret wholeheartedly this morning – and just decided to head home. A long way to go for some fast food, seeing as we have one down our road….

A good night with some new friends. Tomorrow I’d find out if my debit card arrived at the bank. I think by this point we all know what the result is going to be, but I’ll stave off my tears and anger until tomorrow. Who knows, maybe some various deities will smile upon me and make it my day.

Then again, maybe not.

In any case, stay frosty y’all…

Bonus post! You can follow me on the following sites: Twitter – @ScottTiaan & Instagram (where I post the pics that can’t fit into the blogs) – scott_christiaan

Damn it!

Posted on by Scott Christiaan

ANZ. Remember those three letters guys because they will be printed on my death certificate under ‘Cause of Death’. ANZ – or the Australia and New Zealand Banking Group – are the people kindly looking after my funds while I’m here in Australia. They were partnered with my currency broker and could open my bank account before I even landed in the country. Great, I thought. The office in London could even order my debit card so it was ready for me to collect on arrival. Even better.

It has been a week now and is the card ready? Simply put – no. It wasn’t even ordered.

I was meant to leave Sydney on Friday, but I now have to extend my stay until Monday, in the hope that the card will be ready then. It might even be later than that. Everybody else has gone with the other banks in Australia and ALL of them have their cards and are ready for action. Damn it. They were also mailed their cards, whereas I have to pick it up from the branch. Double damn it. So, ANZ, if you happen to be reading this then let it be known that you can kindly suck it and I hope you contract some form of banking herpes.

ANYWAYS….

Other than my rage inducing morning, the rest of the day was pretty uneventful….that was until 5:30pm when a local bar has its ‘Happy Hour’. $4 for a beer for two hours. Fuck yeah.

Our beloved Belgian friend, Tom, invited us out for dinner and a few beers over Happy Hour – a nice quiet evening I thought. 11 happy hours and 11 gallons of beer later and our evening finally came to a close. Battered, bruised, and with yet another goddamn kebab in my stomach, I’m not feeling my finest. I don’t do hangovers, but this morning I managed to make an exception.

I'm such a dorm-star

I’m such a dorm-star

After the Happy Hour at the bar, we stopped off in the local liquor store and headed back to the hostel. Much to my surprise, most of the BlueParrot were in the dining room drinking and laughing. We even had a good chat with Nils and Lars, the two German guys I mentioned once before. They are a little quiet, much like I was on the first day here, but thanks to Lucy reaching out as she often does, we now get along with the guys pretty well. We’re even friends on Facebook now. Proper bromance.

I wish we would have stayed in the hostel really, but Peter, our new American friend, wanted to go to a techno club he knew about. I’m partial to a bit of techno so I thought it would be a great idea. Turns out I’m not always right.

The club, and every other place we tried thereafter, wouldn’t let Peter in because, basically, he has a dodgy face. That may sound hilarious but it’s kinda true. He always looks partially stoned, even though he’s not. The doormen here ask you if you’ve been drinking (a bit of a redundant question really – you’re trying to get into a bar…) and no matter what answer Peter gave, they turned him away immediately. Not the rest of us, mind you, we’re all sweet and innocent enough to sail past the door Nazis unimpeded.

So all in all it was a pretty mixed-review ending. Poor Peter had to stay out on the street like a dirty dog, but we made sure to have fun in his absence. It’s not all bad though, he has just told me he got a job after searching for one day. Feel free to rub some of that California luck on me, Peter.

Tomorrow beckons to be a good day. Lucy and I (and maybe Tom) are taking our new German friends – Nils and Lars – out for a night in Sydney. Look out Australia, it’s going to be a European invasion. Hopefully my liver won’t be too mad at me.

But for now, as always, stay frosty, internet…

Übermorgen – I learned a new word

Posted on by Scott Christiaan

Bondage Beach. Wait, that doesn’t sound right…..*ahem*…..Bondi Beach. About 20mins outside Sydney Central, Bondi is another little gem of a place much like Manly. I’m surprised it had taken me this long to go to Bondi (it has been almost a week), but when you’re battling with the bank on a near daily basis, you’ll find that your time seems to disappear somehow.

Pop Quiz: Do you remember I mentioned a mystery guest in the previous post? No? You don’t read my blog on a regular basis!? Well, that’s an instant F grade for you then. Want to hazard a guess as to who it is anyway? Well you can’t.

….it was Niklas! Everyone’s favorite ginger German had returned to Sydney for the day after living like a Buddhist hermit in the Blue Mountains for three days. Ed Sheeran was taking the hop-on, hop-off Greyhound coach at 10pm, but decided to spend his last day in Sydney with his favorite backing singers, and we were pretty delighted. After taking the train to Bondi Junction – where you catch the bus to the beach – we ran into a new girl from the hostel who had come home drunk the night before and introduced herself. Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it sounds – she’s actually rather nice.

The weary travellers

The weary travellers

So the four of us – Lucy, Niklas, Laura and me – boarded a bus to Bondi Beach. I was fortunate to sit next to the incredibly talented tour guide, Niklas, who presented me with so many facts about the surrounding area that I nearly fell off my chair. For instance: did you know that the road connecting Bondi to Sydney was raised from the earth by Christ himself? Fascinating history.

A few minutes later and we were walking the sandy beaches of Bondi, gazing out at the surfers falling ass-over-tit, and

The beasts of Bondi Beach

The beasts of Bondi Beach

feeling the pressure of living such a difficult life. All donations to the charity of Scott are greatly received. Direct Debits welcome.

After watching a flock of seagulls edge themselves gradually closer and closer to our position (I swear, Niklas is like a magnet to those bastards) we made haste to the toilet because, among my already difficult lifestyle, I also had to pee. Damn it God, just give me a break already.

A slow saunter up the road led us to the rocks at the end of the beach. Now, in the UK, this would have been cordoned off with railings, electric fences and bubblewrap. But here in Australia, the rocks are used as a pathway to the other side. Hell yeah. If you’ve ever played any of the Uncharted games then you’ll know what I mean when I say I felt like Drake traversing a ledge with a 200ft drop beneath. OK, it wasn’t that dramatic, but damn it let me have my moment.

The pathway on the other side of the Grand Canyon led to a street of attractive homes on a hillside. “This would be a great place to work and stay for a while,” said Niklas, and I certainly couldn’t argue with him. With the fuel reserves in my fat ass running low, it was high time to put some coal in the fire. It didn’t take long before we happened upon a hillside café called Speedo. For some reason, their prices increased by about $5 if you wanted to eat in the place, but a Wagyu burger and fries later and I was raring to go again. Time seemed to get away from us really quickly at Bondi, so before too long it was time to head back to the city again and look forward to getting our knees in the air for what will probably be my last big eventful evening at the BlueParrot.

Bondage Beach at its finest

Bondage Beach at its finest

We got a few drinks in around 6pm and chilled out with some of the others in the hostel. Niklas was leaving at 8:30pm, so we waited with him until he was ready to go, said our goodbyes (although more of a ‘see you soon’ for me – we’re on the same coach journey package) and headed off to the bars. Look out girls, the Kings Cross Casanovas are coming to town.

The Breakfast Club

The Breakfast Club

After a few (too many) Guinnesses, a terrible band, lots of selfies, and a hilarious doorman who snorts masala powder (don’t ask…), it was time to head home…..after a detour to the kebab shop, naturally. A good evening with some old and new friends. Tomorrow would be a big day for me – my bank card was due to arrive any day. If it didn’t I’d be here till Monday. Not bueno. Stay tuned for that exciting outcome!…

For now, stay frosty…

Laundry Tour!

Posted on by Scott Christiaan

Oh wow! You guys! I had SUCH an exciting day planned for yesterday!…….it was laundry day.

That’s right, it was time to waste four bucks EACH on the washer and dryer to clean my dirty pants. What’s more, it was pointless buying a whole box of detergent for a few days, so I got a great deal on the hostel’s washing powder – only another TWO DOLLARS for one scoop! What a bargain!

….do you smell sarcasm?….

OK, sarcastic pretentious douchey moment over. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get into the laundry room until 1pm because management has to wash all the unfertilised sperm from leavers’ sheets, so I had to find something to do. Oh, I should probably mention that I woke up at 9am thinking it was 11am, so I had PLENTY of time to burn.

“I know,” I said, “I’ll take a proper walk around the Botanical Gardens and finish my book”. I hadn’t had chance to see the entirety of the gardens yet because 1) They’re pretty huge, and 2) I had more interesting things to do before that day. Anyways, this was the perfect opportunity, so I grabbed my book, adorned my shades and set off to the gardens.

The botanical gardens are so....botanical

The botanical gardens are so….botanical

By the time I ate something and left it was almost 10am, and at that time the walk to the gardens was quiet and really pleasant. The sun was out in force, although it was still necessary to wear a hoody when you walked in the shade. I think it’s fair to say I’ve acclimatized to Sydney very quickly, which is actually a pretty shitty circumstance. Those who know me personally know that I’ve always had a high tolerance to the cold, but since being here I seemed to have developed the Australian stature for being cold in any temperature under 25C. Great.

Nevertheless, the weather was gorgeous and I was able to appreciate the exploration of the gardens with great panache, as there are so many small winding paths cut between trees and bushes. After a thorough walk round and after I had seen everything the Royal Botanic Gardens of Sydney had to offer, I turned back to head to a point I had discovered earlier: A lovely pond away from the main pathways with three benches and just the local wildlife for company. Solidarity at its finest.

Tranquil solidarity at its finest

Tranquil solidarity at its finest

So I parked my ass down in the view of the raging sun and took to finishing my book Looking for Alaska by John Green, which I had read before but was one of my choices to take with me on the 24 hours of my life I lost to aviation. By the time I finished the book, gallantly fought the GIANT horde of runners in the gardens and had been accosted by the local birds several times, it was just about time to head back to do the laundry. Oh travelling lifestyle, it’s days like this that make me question your value. Fricking laundry…

I’ll spare you the photos of my laundry and the tears I shed giving up $10 of my hard earned funds to the art of cleaning my pants. Believe me, the sight of a broken man isn’t pretty.

After the laundry was done and ironed….yes, ironed (I’m a housebroken man – form a queue ladies), I decided to take in the second free walking tour offered in Sydney by imfree.com.au and explore The Rocks district, one of Sydney’s earliest settlements and the heart of the convict residential sector. Like America, Australia doesn’t have a huge amount of its own history and as such, it only dates back to the mid-to-late 1700s. One of the more comical points was the subway where Sydneysiders put their footprints on the walls and ceiling (see the featured image). The council washes them off every six months, but the locals are always fast to replace them, and I was no different. TJ was with us and didn’t like the tour much because of the aforementioned lack of ancient history, but I found it interesting nevertheless. I think the girls, Lucy and Chloe, appreciated it too. Yes, I’m just name-dropping now to show I have friends. #SorryNotSorry.

As with the previous tour, I didn’t take an abundance of photos, as I prefer to listen to the guide rather than be a snap-happy Japanese. The Rocks district does have an archaeological dig going on though, which is viewable by the public. As an ex-archaeology university student, I found that to be one of the most interesting parts of the tour and couldn’t suppress my Japanese desire to take pictures of it. Sue me.

Not quite Atlantis, but pretty damn close

Not quite Atlantis, but pretty damn close

After returning home on Sydney’s awesome train service (they’re double-fucking-decker trains!), I was in the mood for a dirty burger and a few beers – so that’s exactly what I did! Six bottles later, TJ informs me that our dear old departed friend, Anthony, had left one bottle of his beer in the alcohol fridge. What a saint! And shame on TJ for withholding this valuable information for so long! All in all it was a pretty good day. The hostel usually has a big bash on a Thursday, so there was that to look forward to the next day, as well as a mystery guest…

But for now, stay frosty…

Are you free, Mr Humphrey? I’m free!

Posted on by Scott Christiaan

Bird cage art. I mean, it doesn't even look stupid

Bird cage art. I mean, it doesn’t even look stupid

The ultimate touristy thing, tours. But there’s a company here who offers free walking ones and I’m a cash-strapped traveller. Jackpot.

I have explored most of Central Sydney on my own these past few days, but the tour covered a lot of places I hadn’t been or seen before. We started on George Street, THE major street in Central Sydney (although I would argue that is Elizabeth Street, which seems longer to me). In reality, the tour doesn’t cover a great deal of ground mile-wise, but it takes 3 hours and is packed full of information and some pretty humorous facts, courtesy of the great tour guide, who was actually a Sydney native and a university student.

Lots of cathedrals and churches in Sydney

Lots of cathedrals and churches in Sydney

I must confess, I didn’t get too photo-happy on the tour, partly due to the fact I had seen a lot of the places before and partly because I didn’t want to get left behind. One of the major points on the tour that I regret not taking a bajillion pictures of was the Queen Victoria Building, or QVB for short. It used to function as a market building 100 years ago, but has since been turned into a mall for luxury shops. Still a market of sorts, I guess. Interesting Fact: Sydney Council almost tore the building down nearly 30 years ago, but a Malaysian company paid for its complete restoration. Good people, those Malaysians.

QVB's Castle Clock

QVB’s Castle Clock

After walking through the underground tunnels that used to connect the major buildings in early Sydney (and is now also a basement mall), we found ourselves confronted with a strange looking man sitting on a bench with a newspaper. This guy is called the ‘Waiting Man’, but nobody really knows what he’s waiting for. He wears modern business attire, but his newspaper is dated 17….uh…..1788? I forget. Whenever the foundation of early Sydney was, anyway. Apparently, if you go to where he is during the night hours, you can often see people jump in fright as they round the corner and see this guy. I would really love to see that, but I know I’ll forget where he is and end up shitting myself when I come face to face with him. Most non-bueno.

The tour neared its end around The Rocks area, which is one of Sydney’s oldest districts. There is a separate tour in the evening that just covers that area and it tells the story of the area’s early convict residents, the muggings, murders and Jack-the-Ripperesque mysteries. Definitely something I’ll be taking part in, as it’s right up my alley (no Ripper pun intended).

Watch out, it's Kim-Jong-Un!

Watch out, it’s Kim-Jong-Un!

We ended our day on a high platform not far from the Harbour Bridge that overlooks the Opera House, Circular Quay, and much of Sydney in general. Definitely the best spot I’ve found for some pretty amazing photos. A camera can never do justice to what the naked eye sees, but I hope I’ve managed to come close enough to the mark to be acceptable.

After a very walking-intensive day, all that remained was to make the long trek back to the hostel. The Royal Botanic Gardens were closed by then, cutting off my fastest route home, so I had to cut through The Domain, another of Sydney’s many green areas. By the time I got to Finger Wharf (hilarious, I know) I was fueless and in need of some sustenance. Thankfully, I knew of a little street-side food hut called Harry’s. So, without much hesitation whatsoever, I bought myself a crusty roll with roast beef and gravy inside, and some fries, parked my tired ass on a bench overlooking the wharf, and chowed down. Delicious. The view from the bench overlooking the lit-up wharf was awesome and a great end to the day. All that remained was the nightmarish task of climbing the million fucking stairs it takes to get back to the hostel from the wharf. To say I felt like Rocky when I got to the top would be an understatement.

London, y'all can kindly admit defeat now

London, y’all can kindly admit defeat now

Captain Birdeye's Fishfinger Wharf

Captain Birdeye’s Fishfinger Wharf

All in all, a great day out in Sydney yet again. I would definitely recommend the free tours, as they’re led by enthusiastic women who know a lot about their city. The tour is completely free, but the guides work on a tip-only basis, so it’s polite to give them a little something at the end. Considering most tours cost around $35 upwards and are a third of the length, I didn’t begrudge giving the guide 10 bucks for her sterling work.

And neither did anyone else.

Stay frosty, y’all…