Adventure is in the air

Another dawn, another day

What a way

To start

Awake. Time? Three A.M. No alarm, no need (no blankets). I had turned of my light at 18 minutes past midnight. A little later than I had planned, but I had been sucked into Book Land. I remember waking up around 1:30, and again shortly after two. The air is still. Still and hot. I splash cold water on my face and decide to remind my brain that it is tired by reading. This has worked for me in the past. The concentration necessary to focus on words with eyes barely open usually puts me to sleep like a rabid dog. This time it doesn’t work so well. Picking up where I had left off at 12:18, the story quickly grabs my full attention. Finally at 4:18—a mere four hours after I thought I was bowing out for the night—I am ready for a second attempt at unconscious oblivion.

No such luck.

As I turn off the light, I spot the culprit responsible for my disrupted sleep patterns: the full moon. I should have known. I can see she’s on the way down, so I’m fairly certain that her influence will fade before too long. But then, I think, sunrise is only half an hour away. Maybe I’ll stay up to watch it before going back to bed. I set about making tea. While the water is boiling, I throw on some more-or-less presentable clothing and grab a few of the cookies I made last night. Once my tea is steeped and doctored, I head outside to watch the world wake up. It’s rather picturesque. What I’m seeing is not really the sun rising. It’s the changing effects of light on sky and cloud. The great chariot is hidden behind the neighboring buildings. My retinas are grateful for this fact, so I am content.

It is only on an intellectual level that I understand clouds. As I finish my tea, watching them make their slow but inexorable journey to the realm of Helios, my heart still tells me that they must be exempt from the laws of gravity. Some glide effortlessly, dancing through shapes of scone, buffalo, greyhound. (Buffalo is definitely a good sign.) Others hang impossibly still, perhaps caught in heavenly spider webs. Just north of east, the sun paints the nearest shape shifters in shades of peach and gold. Divine garments for the otherwise naked heavens. So much blue, blue everywhere.

I can’t possibly sleep. It is now into the fifth hour of the day, and a breeze has picked up. I opt for a shower and then a walk in the mercifully cool morning air. I wander down (and up) streets I’ve never travelled before. I see a few people. A mango tree. Frangipani everywhere, sweetly flavoring the gentle wind. I meet Lucinda, a beautiful dark silver-grey cat. She is very friendly, but on a mission of her own. She doesn’t stop for long. Eventually I reach a street I know and follow it to the end of my journey. My three hours of interrupted sleep are catching up with me, so I collapse on my bed and finally—finally—sink back into the land where dreams hold sway.

At around 10, I wake up singing Queen. That’s always a good sign.

I am destined to own a bakery

I absolutely love baking. It's fun, exciting, challenging. In a strangely intense way, it's relaxing, almost meditative. Active meditation I believe is the term.
But a lot of people love baking! you say. They don't all own bakeries!
This is quite true. Perhaps we should explore this further...

Are you cut out for the bakery business? (Bakers)

1) Do you like baking?
Yes. Good. That will come in handy.
No. Hmm... Perhaps this is not the right line of work for you. Unless of course you're interested in the business aspects of the project, in which case there is still hope. However, you should probably go find your own survey. It will likely be titled something along the lines of "Are you cut out for the bakery business? (Business or financial-type people)."

2) Do you REALLY like baking? Like, a lot? Enough to skip going to a party in order to try a new recipe or make sure your cookie dough cools appropriately?
Yes. Excellent! If you have any doubts, turn back now. Beyond this point you're pretty committed.
No. Not a fatal flaw. A social life is a good idea, after all. If you think you're going to combine party and baking, maybe think again. Or at the very least, don't eat those strange-looking things sitting on top of your oven in the morning.

3) If you had to, would you bake all night?
Yes. Strong work ethic. Good. That will come in handy around holidays.
No. Well, you know, sleep is good. And sleep-deprived baking can be dangerous. But sometimes an all-nighter is just necessary. Surely, if nothing else, uni taught us this?

4) If you had the opportunity, would you CHOOSE to bake all night?
Yes. Really? That's pretty cool. As long as you have enough caffeine to keep you alert. Loud music helps too, if you can get away with it.
No. Probably not many people would. It is, however, one of those quirky things that could come in real handy if you wanted to, you know, own a bakery.

5) When is the best time for baking?
Morning. Getting an early start. Good thinking. Now you have all day to get things mixed, cooled, baked, or set. Or all of the above. And no matter what, by the end of the day, you will have something to show for your work. Though, you should know that most bakeries open in the morning. So it's usually better to have things done before then. Baking in the morning might look a bit last-minute. Unless your bakery opens at night. Hmm... There might be something in that...
Afternoon. This is a good time for making quick things. A treat for after dinner. Awkward timing for any longer recipes, though.
Evening. Good opportunity here. Got a recipe that needs to chill or sit overnight? Start it now, go to bed, or whatever, then finish it in the morning! It's much less frustrating than having to wait around, conscious, for hours on end. Let your dreams fill the time!
Late at night. This is the ideal time to start an all-nighter. Or if you just want to surprise people in the morning. Either way.
Graveyard shift. Huh. Well... either you've stayed up this late, in which case, why didn't you just bake earlier? Or you specifically woke up this early in order to bake. In which case... what the hell is wrong with you?
All the time! Right. Enthusiasm is good, but you do know there are other aspects of life, right? Vegetables, for example.

6) Do you enjoy experimental baking?
Yes. Cool. You can build up a repertoire of innovative recipes that will give your bakery a uniquely-you feel. Just make sure that other people (customers) like your experiments as well.
No. Sticking with the tried and true is okay. But bear in mind that small businesses have a higher fatality rate than... something with a high fatality rate... and if you don't have anything to distinguish you from every other bakery out there, it could make for hard going. Maybe you should find someone to experiment on your behalf.

7) If an experiment fails, how do you react?
Cry. It happens. It probably means that you've been at it for too long, without enough sleep or sustenance. Eat a fruit or vegetable of your choice, order in (Chinese is good), and fall asleep watching your favourite movie. Leave off baking until you feel up to it again.
Laugh. Good for you. Way to shake it off. Though if your laughter is maniacal, it might mean that your experiment-gone-wrong has turned you into a super villain. If this is the case, you must find a super hero, for whom you can be an arch nemesis, as soon as possible. There are probably agencies.
Sulk. Look, you really don't have anyone to blame but yourself, and no one wants to hear your whining. Find your book of favourite recipes (surely you have one?). Read through it while eating a pint of your favourite ice cream. Now snap out of it.
Become violent. Because a tantrum is the way to solve all of life's problems, right? Either take some anger management courses, or find a new career. Perhaps caber-tossing?
Make people eat it anyway. This is called sadism. You may be interested in the works of the Marquis de Sade, whence comes the term. Also, you should probably get out of the baking business before you get arrested. Or become the target of various plots for revenge.
Try again immediately. Good job getting back on the horse! Your failed project could be spreading some bad mojo, though, so make sure this isn't a vengeful rebake. Those will generally turn out even worse and/or end up killing someone.
Try again eventually. That's ok. Give it some time. That way you can be certain whether it was the circumstances or if the recipe was really that crap. And act accordingly.

8) If an experiment succeeds, how do you react?
Cry. Tears of joy, right? Or relief? Those are acceptable. Otherwise... you may want to consider a serious change in lifestyle.
Laugh. An expected response to success. Now, quickly, write down everything you just did. Then share your success with others. And maybe have a small gloat. Small.
Become violent. Happy violence? Or you were hoping to fail? Either way, these nice people in white will take you somewhere comfortable and quiet. Come on, into the van.

Well there you have it. Let's just assume that I have drawn a conclusion of some sort, and skip to the next question. Does anyone want to help me open a bakery?

The people I met today

A brief study.


Exhibit A: Brian
Not much to tell, except that he was gorgeous. Mega gorgeous. Insta-jelloid gorgeous. It's been a long time since I've seen anyone that beautiful. Up close, I mean.


Exhibit B: Bella
I'd say she was probably two, two and a half. I was waiting for the train, when all of a sudden a very small person is practically in my lap, saying "hello" and a bunch of other things in toddler jabber which I couldn't understand. I responded with a "hello" of my own. I made a bracelet about a week ago, and she was interested as soon as she saw it. "What is that?" she asked. "I made it," I said. I suppose technically I didn't actually answer her question, but she seemed perfectly satisfied with my response. The next thing out of her mouth was "I want it." "You want it?" "Yes." "Okay." I took the bracelet off and gave it to her. "It might be a little big," I said. It was. In fact, even pushed all the way up to her shoulder, it was much too large. Ah well. She ran off to show her mother, and I picked up my pen to continue work on a story I've been writing. Her mother must have chided her, because the next thing I know she's holding the bracelet out to me, declaring simply, "I don't want it anymore." Well then. I guess I'll take it back. Suddenly she climbs up on the bench next to me, takes my pen and paper, and starts to draw a picture. Most of what she says is unintelligible to me, but as far as I can gather it's a picture of the ocean. She keeps going on about the bubbles in the water and "you can't just jump in." Well, we sat pleasantly until the train arrived, at which point I told her that she should probably go back to her mother. As I stepped on the train, I realized that the two of them were not coming, and Bella seemed very distressed about the fact. I don't think I've ever made such a strong impact on someone in such a short time. I was rather touched.

Bella's Picture


Exhibit C: Bernard
Huzzah for skeezy old men. ("Old," in this instance merely meaning "too old for me." He was probably only 40-something.) They fill a very important societal niche. Namely, the niche that skeezy young men fill when the get old. Less huzzah is their need to express their skeeziness by hitting on young women. Me, for example. I was waiting, of course, for yet another train. This time I was already in the middle of writing when the interruption came. "Excuse me, miss, do you have the time?" It was 12:02 pm. Excellent. I have done my duty to a fellow citizen (even though we are citizens of different countries). I thoroughly expected all interaction to stop there, but I was mistaken. A standard question followed: "Are you from around here?" Ok, so first of all, If I am from around here, I would probably be slightly annoyed with the question. He undoubtedly heard my accent when I told him the time, which means he probably knew that I am from somewhere else. In fact, I very much doubt that he would have asked the question otherwise. "No, I'm from Seattle." Not true, technically. This is the answer I give when I'm not really interested in the conversation. Though follow-up questions are inevitable, "Seattle" has fewer of them, mostly because people have actually heard of it. "Olympia" or "the Seattle area" are consistently greeted with "where's that" or "what part" type questions. So I kept it simple. "Seattle!" he sounded so amazed. Why, though? I have an American accent. It stands to reason, therefore, that I am probably from America. In which case, I live somewhere very far away. It really doesn't matter what part of the country I'm from; it's going to be far away. And, as previously discussed, since he probably already knew I was from the US, the amazement seemed entirely unnecessary. Perhaps he wanted to impress me with his amazement. Maybe false awe is a flirting technique I'm not familiar with. At any rate, the next question caught me completely off guard. "So are you single?" Um... what? I thought the point of flirting was to be subtle? I was so surprised by the directness that I simply said the first thing that came into my head. "Uh... I guess so." He laughed and said that he liked my answer, at which point I added some (entirely false) details about a budding but failed romance back home. It seemed like a story that would fit my rather strange statement. His next question ("Do you have a phone number?") was so obvious that I said "No" out of reflex. This is absolutely untrue. In fact, when he asked the time in order to initiate conversation, I checked my phone. It occured to me that he might have seen this, and while I didn't want to encourage him, I also didn't want to seem like a complete ass. So I fed him some waffle about having a phone but no SIM card. I'm pretty sure that without a SIM card you can still see the time and make emergency calls, so it seemed like a plausible lie. I was very pleased with myself. After lecturing at length about the best places to get a prepaid SIM, he gave me his phone number, which I dutifully wrote down (though wouldn't it have been funny If I had forgotten myself and put it in my phone?), again so as not to appear as an ass. Finally the time came for us to part ways, at which point I said, "It was very nice to meet you." He responded with an epic "Yeah, see you later then." Hmm... I know I wasn't entirely truthful. The real question is, did he realize how wrong his statement was?


So there you have it. A nice diverse sampling of the Brisbane population. I suppose I should mention at this point that I've changed everyone's names. Except Seattle and Olympia. I left those ones the same.

It was the best day ever

Because I was kidnapped by hill folk never to be seen again? No, it was an even better day than that. How could such a thing be? Allow me to enlighten you.

Most of the day was fairly low-key. I woke up, did awake-type things, chatted with a super awesome person online (you know who you are). I did the usual pissing around online things (black hole, KoL, email) while working on my résumé so I can, you know, get a job. I hope they don't mind that all my work experience is at places they've never even heard of... in small towns in the US... Well anyway, I felt productive (even though I didn't really get that much done).

I did some reading, tidied up a bit, did the dishes. I made a list of things to do (which was remarkably similar to the list I made a few days ago, but hey). Then at about 4 I decided that it was imperative that I leave right away and go into the city. I blame the weather. It rained all day yesterday (and I mean pouring rain), so the wind had that great post-rain smell. And since a number of windows were open, that smell was following me around and making me want to be outside. So! I grabbed my wallet, some change, a pen, and a pad of paper (it fits in my back pocket), and I was in downtown Brisbane by about 4:30.

I bought a book, which was excellent. I then enquired about The Last Watch, and was informed that its release date has been pushed back until January or so. This is unacceptable, and I sincerely hope that my... informant was mistaken. Ah well. I then proceeded to the Queen St. Mall, in hopes of finding myself a watch. Into the depths of the consumerist underworld I plunged, clutching my book tight in case I needed to use it as proof that I enjoy things beyond shopping. Luckily the people, the robots, and the assassins all had other things on their minds (or circuits), and I was able to safely navigate amongst the endless tiendas in peace. Or at least uninterrupted. Malls are not exactly peaceful places, are they?

First, a wander through the place. I eyed places likely to have the treasure I sought and enjoyed feeling thoroughly invisibly in a mass of self-absorbed people. I also found a place that sells yarn in every color of the rainbow as well as the magical tools necessary to turn it into useful things. Like sweaters.

My reconnaissance complete, it was time to attempt the actual acquisition of my desired treasure. Into the most likely candidate. (Ok, so not actually the most likely. More like the closest.) It's name? Myer. Think JC Penny on steroids. I entered on the apparel level and had to descend to the accessories level. It was a harrowing journey. A careful look through the watch section left me disappointed. There were few designs that appealed to me, and even the best ones were not worth $150. Hmm... onward and upward. Or, as it happened, downward. To Target. No luck. The selection was much cheaper, but... well to be perfectly honest, they were all really ugly. Bah. Attempt number three. No good. Mainly because the store in question did not have watches. However, they were very helpful in suggesting another place, so kudos to them. As for the other place... bingo. Simple but not boring, relatively light, and only $10. Success!

Treasure!

Buoyed by my fruitful adventures in the belly of the Material Beast, I headed back toward fresh air in a good mood. I thought things were going well, but then my eyes detected a strange reflectiveness to the ground. Was it... raining? Hells yes! My mood jumped several levels in pleasantness. Purposefully I strode from under the shop awnings. Smugly I scoffed at the sudden appearance of many umbrellas. I do not fear the rain, for I am from... well, Olympia. But had anyone asked I would have said Seattle. It takes less time. The effect would have been ruined if I'd had to explain where Olympia is. Of course, no one asked, so I guess it's a moot point.

There was a band playing, and I stuck around long enough to decide that they were good musicians, but then I started making my way back to the train station. I simply couldn't waste that rain by standing in a covered area, now could I? The walk in the rain was everything I hoped it would be. With my new purchases and a small smile, I was nearly at the station when the sultry smell of coffee practically grabbed me and stopped me in my tracks. Ah that truly Seattle siren call. Normally I have a strong will to resist, but with a book in my hand, coffee (or something similar) becomes practically impossible to deny. Since I was feeling very much at home with book and rain, the fact that it was Starbucks didn't help. So I succumbed. White chocolate mocha. I had entertained thoughts of sitting with my drink and reading my new book, but the seats were filled, so I wandered back outside. Now that I had something warm to drink, it seemed silly to go inside anywhere (besides a cafe, obviously). I drank as I walked, feeling more home by the minute. Coffee-book-rain. What next? Ah yes. Live music. I went back to where the band was playing and finished my mocha while they finished their set. They said the would be doing another one, so I decided to explore for a bit and then come back.

I made my first stop at HMV, a music store. (H is pronouns hayche, complete with the hhh.) There I met a very helpful man. Cute, too. He gave me the skinny on what's hot in Brisbane these days, and I urged him to give Schoolyard and Creature Feature a listen. All in all a very rewarding experience. Next I visited a phone store to pet some monkeys I had seen earlier. What? Oh, not really, no. To buy a phone. I splurged a bit and got myself a fun one. But first I made absolutely sure with the (very cute) sales guy that when I come home I can still use this phone on an actual network plan (as opposed to my current pre-paid gig). He said yes absolutely, so excellent!


I think I can see my soul...
It doesn't look too happy...

By this point it was 7 o'clock, and I was rather hungry. I thought that perhaps it was time to go home, but then I asked myself, "Do you really want pasta for dinner again?" The answer was "No," so I went back into the mall dungeon and got chicken strips, chips, and a coke. Then I found a secluded table to eat my dinner and start my book (bringing the number of books I am currently reading up to five). It wasn't quite as exciting as the artsy coffee shop reading scenario I had imagined, but there was considerably more protein involved, so I was ok with it. I read four chapters before heading back to hear the end of the band's second set. Afterward I said hello and chatted for a bit. They were very friendly.

Finally I concluded it was really time to head back to Taringa. It was about quarter after nine, and I wanted to get back indoors before the boozers came out. Nothing against them, I just didn't feel up to those sorts of interactions. I caught a train, got briefly lost in the game crowd, then quietly extracted myself and made my way back to walls, warmth, and... winternet?

And then I got to recreate my day for everyone else while listening to the trees go crazy in the wind. I know you have to have bad days (and average days and boring days and stupid days) to appreciate the good ones, but I have to say that if tomorrow is exactly the same as today was... I think that would be ok with me.




Did I mention that my hair looked very nice today?

We saw camels

Wild ones. A whole herd of them.

So, no, we didn't actually ditch the GB. Really, would I have wanted to miss out on going somewhere I've wanted to visit since... sixth grade? Probably not. So yeah. Ayers Rock? Way awesome. The Anangu name for it is Uluru, so that's what I'll be calling it. Try to keep up. And the Olgas? Kata Tjuta.

Aren't those some exciting words? Yes, yes they are. They're even more exciting with an Aussie accent. Allow me to enlighten you. Uluru. Actually, it's pronounced exactly the way you would think. oo-loo-roo. With the primary stress on the last syllable, and the secondary on the first. Heh.

Anangu. I didn't really hear the NG pronounced very much. And because I'm in Oz, the word has invisible R's. ar-na-n(g)oo. Stress at the beginning. Ok, just one invisible R.

Hey guess what! Kata Tjuta has an invisible R, too! ka-ta choo-ter. Heheh. Wee bit o' stress on ka, mainly on choo. And it's kind of a combination of CH and J. Hard to explain, but play around with it, and I think you'll get what I mean.

So we had an incredibly awesome tour guide. No, Inarguably Awesome. His name was Ryan, and if you ever go to Uluru, I'll give you his last name so you can try to find him, but I'm not going to just put it out on the internet. That would be rude.

Anyhoo, while we were there we did a stargazing tour-thingy. It was great. I can now officially find south! :D We also did both sunrise and sunset tours. Quite amazing. It's one of those things that it's really hard to describe without getting caught in all sorts of clichés. So I won't. Not today, anyway. But I will say that everyone needs to put Uluru on their list of places to go. Everyone. No exceptions.

When we finally flew back to Cairns, Max and I were pretty excited. Almost on our own! We had gelato and ramen for dinner (haha), plus some very tasty ginger beer. Finally, finally, the GB went to bed. And you know what that means? Freedom! We had a 6am flight to Brisbane, which meant a 4:30 taxi, which meant getting up at 4... which meant why bother going to bet at all, right? Surely you see the logic. We had thoughts of going to the gay bar in search of a manly pink drink, but it was too far to walk. So instead we went to Gilligan's, a local hostel-resort-bar-club-thing. Loud music, lots of booze, crowded, good fun.

CRAZY OLD MAN. Hilarious. He was already completely drunk by the time we got there around 11. Between his very thick accent, the music, and his total inebriation, I didn't understand a single word he said for the entire evening. He would just shout things at us and then laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world. So we would just nod and laugh, too. And then he would try to make a serious face (failed every time 'cause he couldn't stop smiling) and hold his finger to his lips. Since I haven't got a clue what secret we were supposed to be keeping, I'm pretty sure it's safe. Excellent entertainment.

You know what else is excellent? Free booze. Especially in a country where everything is expensive. Stupid useless US dollar. Argh. I digress. Free poison. We met a few people and bonded with them over the insanity of the old man. This one girl kept telling me to have fun (which I was), and eventually started giving me drinks. She would drink about half of one, and then tell me to drink the rest while she went to get another. Hahaha. Needless to say, I was wasted by the end of the evening... slash I was still wasted when I went back to the hotel to hastily pack before the taxi arrived... and was still wasted in the taxi... and in the airport (that was fun)... and finally on the plane. It's definitely a good way to be able to sleep on an airplane, but the downside was that I slept through breakfast. Damn. Ah well.

Despite the massive partying that had ended only a few hours before, we managed to figure out the train AND navigate from the station to the hostel. Only to discover, of course, that we couldn't check in for another three hours. Figures. But no worries. Checked in eventually, spent most of the day in a daze, then slept for a very long time. Lovely.

To bring you up to the present probably won't be that exciting, so I'll just overview it. The hostel is nice enough. Bunk is the name, if ever you're in the area. Nothing too spectacular, but it's a hostel, so... and it's not a dump. This is by far the most important information I've learned over the last week or so: Want to make friends? Make cookies! It works so well, it's not even funny. Oh man, cookies sound good right now. Lucky for me, we have cookie dough waiting for us in the fridge back at Bunk. Heehee.

Well, with that thought, I doubt I'm going to squeeze any more information out of my brain. All I can think about is cookies. Mmmmm... so warm and tasty... and no eggs! No, seriously, we didn't have eggs, so we had to do without for this batch. It works just fine. Really. Just add a little milk instead. 3-5 tablespoons should do ya.

Now I'm just going to shout about a few things, and then we can all go to bed. Or eat cookies.
Shout: Go see Batman! I think I've been pretty clear on this. Go. See. It. Also, I've just seen The Bank Job, and it's brilliant. So go see that, too. But see Batman first.

I think I'm done shouting now. Time for sweet, sweet chocolate-chippy goodness.

Cheers.

Because it reminds me of home?

Tuesday and Wednesday were cold, grey, and rainy rainy rainy rainy rainy. It was great. Definitely the best days so far. And by cold I mean in the 70-degree range.

So, Tuesday. It turns out there's some pretty rabs shit in Oz. Have any of you seen Wendigo? Remember the Native American guy that gives the kid that figurine? Definitely creepy vibes, but he seems wise and knowledgeable, so you mostly want to believe him? Yeah, we basically met that guy. Except that he was French. Probably. At any rate, we were taking a train to the hidden village of Kuranda, and he was serving drinks. Max and I both got tea (the GB was asleep), but before I can ask for some milk and sugar, this guy starts going on about "when I was your age..." Yay. Incidentally, don't ask for cream here unless you want the whipped variety. But yeah. Apparently when this guy was our age, he decided to wander off into the Australian jungle in search of some magic beans or something. His accent was kind of hard to understand sometimes (think French-Australian. It's pretty weird), but basically what I gathered was that he spent ten years of his life eating random plants in hopes of becoming immortal. WTF? Seriously. Come to think of it though, he did look pretty ancient and craggly, so maybe he succeeded after all. Meh. Eventually he stops talking, tells us to enjoy our tea, and moves on to the next car.

Well, we enjoyed it, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't tea. For one thing, it didn't taste quite right. For another, I'm pretty sure tea doesn't fuck with the space-time continuum. And this drink definitely did. The French guy explained it to us later, but damn it was terrifying at first. I mean, what would you think if one minute you were on a train and the next you were in the middle of the rainforest? My thought was that the train crashed and I had blocked it out of my memory, but as Max pointed out, the probability that we both completely blocked out everything seems pretty slim. So there we were. We wandered around a bit, but we didn't want to go too far in case someone was looking for us. Plus, we didn't want to get lost... not that we really knew where we were anyway, but... you know. The upside of being lost in "Tropical North Queensland" is that mangoes grow in the area. The downside, naturally, is that it's winter and the mangoes aren't ripe. We had some minty cookies ("biscuits"--and damn were they tasty), but eight cookies is not enough food for the day, let alone the indefinite future. Rationing the cookies seemed pointless, so we ate them all and decided to see if we could figure out what the hell happened.

Lucky for us, this was exactly the right thing to do. We hash out everything we can remember, right up to the point where we finish our tea. And then... we wake up, I guess. We're certainly back on the train. The GB is still asleep, but our teacups have been cleared away. Max and I compare notes. Either we both had the same bizarre dream or we really were transported through space and time... there was probably something funny in the tea. And the French guy's stories about tramping through the rainforest must have permeated our brains. Or something...

Anyhoo, we get to Kuranda and it's pretty cool, I guess. We got a chance to pet some baby kangaroos. And we had tasty ice cream. And mango smoothies. And some amazing sandwiches. And it rained and we got nice and wet as we wandered around the village while the GB went on some sort of "jungle walk" thing. We took the Skyrail back to Cairns, which was way awesome. The foliage is so thick that it becomes quite difficult to see the ground from above.

Exciting Tuesday, yeah?

Wednesday was also exciting, but in a different way. What way, you ask? Dude, we went snorkeling on the Great Barrier Reef! And no, Terra, no one died. It was cloudy and wet (well, duh, but it was wet from the sky), so the water wasn't as clear as it could have been, but it was still absolutely amazing.

Have I mentioned yet that I started writing this Thursday morning? Well, I did. So I apologize for the delay. More things keep happening.

You know what's awesome? Batman. If you haven't seen it yet (poor unfortunate souls), you need to. And make sure you pee before the movie starts because you really don't want to miss anything.

So that was Wednesday night. A very good night indeed. Made even better by the fact that Max and I were able to buy some booze legally, and we didn't even get carded. I love this country.

*Phew* Wednesday done. Now... Thursday. Um... yeah. Really nothing exciting. Did not much of anything during the day, and then had Greek food for dinner. Which was quite tasty. By far the best spanakopita I've ever had. And really yummy baklava. And fun times writing on the tablepaper. Math and limericks and quotes and things. Fun.

Friday morning was uneventful. Friday afternoon we went to the botanical gardens. They were pretty cool, but the slightly less tamed version across the street was better. But you know what the best part was? Eating starfruit fresh off the tree. Starfruit in America officially suck.

Friday night... oh, Friday night. We drank sake out of boxes (actually, the pine flavour from the boxes was nasty, but the idea was fun), and we were gifted one of the extra bottles. Heheheh. Dinner was good. I've decided to include the menu so some of you can be jealous (I'm sure some of you won't care).

So, dinner:
--Salad of avocado with hazlenut and chicory salad finished with raspberry balsamic. So good. I gave my avocado to Maximus.
--Seared fillet of reef fish on fresh herbs and rich cheese cream sauce with broccoli florettes. The fish and broccoli were overcooked, but the "herbs" and cream sauce were tastylicious. Especially the cream sauce.
--Strawberry and apple crumble slice and white chocolate anglaise. I love crumble slice. It's my favoritest thing ever. It was good, but really sweet.
--Tea and coffee and beer and wine and suchwhat.

In case anyone is wondering, the big beer here is XXXX Gold (4 ex gold-- don't even think about saying "quadruple").

So with free beer and wine, no one seemed to feel the need to limit their alcohol intake. Imagine a room full of scientists all getting tipsy together. It ends in really, really awkward dancing. When they started asking us to dance, we decided it was time to leave. We being Max and Andrea and I. Andrea being a German girl we met and who sat with us at dinner.

On the way back to the hotel, we're trying to figure out what the hell we're going to do with an entire bottle of sake. We certainly don't have time to drink it, and trying to put it in our luggage would probably end badly. We could give it to someone, but we don't know anyone. Blast. Such a waste of good rice wine. Oh well. Maybe we'll leave it in the hotel room for the housekeeping people to have.

THEN

we pass some guys by a van. Woo! Best night ever. Went to bed and never woke up again. Haha. No, we decided to offer the sake to them. And I'm really glad we did. One was Irish, one was English, one was a Kiwi, and they were happy to take our alcohol off our hands. They said we should share a drink with them before we left, so we took some swigs from the bottle (way better than out of pineboxes). And of course we started chatting about this and that. What are we doing in Australia? Do we like it so far? What's going on in America these days? Things like that. We share stories and suchwhat. It was muchly enjoyable. Probably ended up talking to them for half an hour or so, and it turns out that the three of them and a Swedish girl are traveling around the country in a van, getting work wherever they can find it. Dude! Sweetness. And isn't that basically my goal? Yes, yes it is. In fact, I think it is more my goal than the goal I had before. Yes, that sentence makes sense. So, long story short (or short story long, at this point), Max and I have decided to join them in their adventures. The guys get off work in about an hour and then we'll set out, probably south along the coast. Woo! It's about time the real adventuring started.

I can't guarantee what the internet will look like from here on out, but I'll try my best to find some and keep y'all updated. Oh, and I've yet to find batteries here that work in my camera, so pictures (though they are forthcoming, I swear) may take longer than expected.

No postcards for you...

Yeah, so at $1.30 apiece (US$1.26), I think postcards are out of the picture. And since I've started talking prices, I might as well continue to do so. It certainly makes for some interesting comparisons. AUD/USD

Gas (or "petrol," as it's called here)
$1.70/litre ~ $6.23/gal
Guess who is super glad she doesn't have to do any driving while she's here? Huzzah for skyrocketing fuel prices, right? It costs about as much to fly from Cairns to Brisbane as to take a bus. Which Max and I might be doing, but more about that later.

Movie Ticket
Matinee: $14/$13.55
Evening: $14.80/$14.32
This one annoys me more since I do plan on seeing movies. In fact, we saw one this afternoon and will be seeing another on Wednesday. But more about that later.

Booze
Haven't got a freaking clue. We haven't managed to purchase any yet, mostly because of the threat Grandma gave us: "Anyone who goes out and gets drunk is paying for their own food for the rest of the trip." Awesome. However, the brother and I may have a few tricks up our sleeves. But more... well, you know.

Coffee
$4.50/$4.35
That's an average price. I've seen it both cheaper and more expensive, and of course it depends to some extent on what you get.

The Zoo
$31/$29.99
Yeah! We went to the zoo. That's a per person price, by the way.

I'm pretty sure there were more prices I wanted to put up, but I can't think of them right now. Plus, I want to get on to the stories. I'll put up more prices as I think of them (if any). So... Stories!

Going to Brizzy (Brisbane):
I don't love Cairns. Actually, though I'm fine putting up with it for now, I will definitely be trying to find somewhere else to live for the rest of the year. It's waaaaay to touristy. It was billed in my travel guide as a tourist city, but I didn't realize quite to what extent. We've read up a bit on the scene in Brizzy, and it sounds considerably more pleasant. The question of course is whether it is worth it to shell out the extra money for transportation. I asked at the hotel's front desk about hitchiking. The woman didn't say that we shouldn't do it, but her facial expression was not reassuring. We'll see. Whatever we do, it'll have to be decided by the end of the week.

Seeing movies/boozing:
We saw Hancock today. It was entertaining. Not life changing. Probably won't see it again (or at least won't pay money to see it again). Actually... I really don't feel like it was anything special at all. But it did provide some laughs and something to do for an afternoon, so it served its purpose in my book. Much more important, however, is... Batman! Max and I have tickets for a 9:20pm show on Wednesday. Which is... between 4 and 7 am Wednesday for all you US types. So ha! We have hopes of maybe getting slightly tipsy before the show. It will require a bit of subterfuge, but hopefully nothing too extravagant. The issue is how exactly to go about it. A bottle of something would be more than we want to spend and more than we need to drink. A six pack of some sort of girly drinks would probably be best, but then where would we drink them? Bringing them back to the hotel would most likely cause some friction with the GB, and we can't just walk around drinking them on the street. So going to a bar/club seems like the logical method, though that would be more expensive. So... we'll see. Maybe we should just go to the drive-through liquor store. Wait... did you read that correctly? Go back and check just to make sure. Are we clear on this concept? Drive-through liquor store. People in cars driving up to an attendant and ordering booze. What? Well whatever. It's kickass.

...The GB, for anyone who is wondering, is Grandma Betty.

Boys:
They do exist here! Woo! On the whole it seems to be a pretty normal mix as far as looks go. The most attractive one I've seen so far was in the SeaTac airport. He travelled with us as far as Auckland, but went on to Sydney instead of Cairns. Poo. I've seen a few nice ones working in restaurants, which leads me to believe that I may want to look into that line of work... heheh. I even left my email for one, though I doubt he ever saw it. That's ok. It was fun. I'm hoping there will be a chance to meet more people (both male and female) once Max and I are on our own.

Pictures:
Yes, there will be some pictures soon. Possibly tomorrow, but no guarantees.

And now, sadly, this post must come to a close.

Get off the internet and go outside.

Cheers.

Hey guess what... I'm not dead

I'm in Australia. Woo! And the internet is finally working. Double woo! I think this is mostly going to be travel-bloggy stuff until I start living a real life. Um... woo?

Since I know everyone is wondering, I will get this out of the way right now: toilets don't spin the other way when you flush them. In fact, they don't spin at all. Every toilet I've used so far shoots the water straight down. However, I do not yet have a decent sample size, so if I gain any new information, I'll try to get the word out as soon as possible.

I have another myth to bust. Kangaroo does not taste like chicken. It tastes like cow. Or steak, to be more specific. Really good steak.

Some things you have heard are true, of course. Australians do, in fact, have Australian accents.

I don't know what else you might have heard, so if you have questions you can ask them instead of me trying to guess what they are.

I could really get used to living in the tropics. "Winter" in Cairns means maybe a low of 60 at night. Right now it's 70 ish with a nice breeze. At six o'clock. Of course, it's also getting dark, but since Cairns seems to be a nightlife city, I'm not too worried.

Cairns, for those who don't know, is generally pronounced CANS, though I've also heard KEENS and CANES a few times. As long as you drop the R, you're probably good. Which grandma hasn't quite managed to figure out yet.

I'm done now. Abrupt yes, but... I will blame jetlag.

Cheers

And so it begins

Welcome to the future, me hearties. As I understand it, the world will be ending in four years, so let's live it up while we can, yeah? Awesometimes.

...Oh, and I'm going to Australia in 15 hours and 10 minutes. Bam.