I truly can’t believe it’s our last day in Australia.  There have been days Jessica and I thought we wanted to stay in Australia forever (especially a certain one of us)…and days we actually looked forward to plodding through customs at LAX to be back where life at least makes some sort of twisted, entertainment-reality sense.

We all know the U.S. economy is in the toilet, which is a large part why we decided to embark on this backpacking journey.  At the end of the day we’re artists…and travel at the very least can expand one’s way of seeing things and inspire (the latter of which I couldn’t find in LA for the last few months…maybe even year).  What I wasn’t expecting was how many other people from around the world have also lost (or left) their desk jobs and decided travel was the next, best step.  People in their early 20’s to 40’s, 50’s, and even way beyond.  From Italians, to Irish, Brits, and Canadians.  Travel = elixir.

One of our favorite new friends we met at our Airlie Beach hostel, a gorgeous redhead from northern England who is in her early 40’s though looks not a day over 30, quit her engineering job and is traveling all over the southwest of the globe for four months.

At one of the hostels in Melbourne a motley crew of elderly Aussie gents totally checked out my boxer-clad legs in an elevator on the way to the rooftop deck.  After the obviously awkward moment passed I decided to chat them up a bit.  Turns out they were super sweet and about to head to Thailand and then maybe Morocco.  How many American senior citizens do you know that travel like that?  Granted, they did have those nice pully suitcases…

A lovely British woman we met during one of our forced, ridiculous middle-of-the-night bus stops has been backpacking for 54 years.  Her kids now do it with their kids.  It was nice to see backpacking wasn’t just for the 18-24 year-old set…though of course it’s easier-suited for those young’ins.

Anyway, before I go overboard on the looking back and gross sentimentalities, here is a quick summary of our last week here on our Gold Coast Tour…

LAST (RAINY) DAY IN CAIRNS (Monday, December 7^th Aussie time)

Ok, so I lied.  THIS was our last night in Cairns.  Not sure if I truly forgot or if I blocked it out of my mind because all we pretty much did all day besides laundry and mooch off of McDonald’s internet is watch the film…dear God…TWILIGHT: NEW MOON!  I know, I know, I know…all my film friends are snickering and judging me.  It’s cool; I probably would judge them, too.  You see, U.S. films are released here much later than we get.  From the six choices we had, aside from Paranormal Activity (too scary for us girls when we’re staying in strange places every night), one of us had seen every other choice.  I mean, they are still showing Couples Retreat!  Poor Jess hadn’t even seen the first Twilight, so I had to try and explain what happened, though I barely remembered from that long-ago unfortunate Netflix-rental event.  The things we do to keep from staring at walls and going into existential crisis mode.

So yeah, not much to do in a beachy tourist town when it rains, especially when you’re staying at a hostel (a.k.a. no TV to cozy up to) and can’t afford a spa day.  We did make a hilarious attempt at playing slots in the one casino for all of a few Aussie dollars.  It was confusing.  I swear we’re not retarded.  And we lost.

TRAVEL DAY to AIRLIE (Tuesday, December 8^th Aussie time)

The one time we were hoping for sprinkles was this morning since we had to trek with our backpacks to the bus station.  So of course it was super hot, humid, and sunny.  Our freshly-cleaned tank tops were soaked by the time we finally got there…so bad that we sat in the tiny, air-conditioned Greyhound Australia office for an hour and a half (we had to check-out before 10 a.m. so we were left with a weird block of time to waste with our tons of luggage).  When we finally ventured out across a park to where our bus was to pick us up we found that it was at least an hour behind schedule.  Grrrrrrreat.

Patience is another thing that is tried and torture-tested while traveling.

I took some time to stretch for the first time since our Vegan Life Sanctuary yoga.  Ouch.  It finally came and we were off to Airlie.  Some of the coastal landscape was STUNNING.

We finally arrived around 11:30 p.m. and the bus stop was jam packed with other travelers taking our place.  That’s when we knew the overnight bus rides were certainly going to be interesting.

Until this point we stayed at YHA hostels (a great, clean, usually affordable brand of hostels all over Oz).  Airlie’s YHA was for some reason super expensive so we ended up at Bush Village Boutique Backpackers Hostel, which looked more like a campground than a student hotel and it was definitely more off the beaten path than we were used to.

Our hostel cabin in daylight…

The lighting was crap, especially since our cabin suddenly went dark as we approached.  As Jess opened the sliding door it fell off entirely in her hands.  Oops.

Jess peeked inside to find a light switch to find a bitchy brunette half-lying in bed.  She quipped, “Um.  The door is over there.”  Turns out there was indeed a regular door that used the key.  If we could’ve seen it we would’ve used it.  She didn’t try to help…with the lights, the door, nothing.

This is one of the fun things about backpacking.  You often arrive at your room in the middle of the night and you have no idea who you’re sharing a room with.  Sometimes you make friends…and other times…well, you just count the days until you’re onto the next place…

AIRLIE BEACH (Wednesday, December 9^th – Thursday, December 10^th)

The one perk at Bush was that we got free breakfast.  Granted, by the time we got there they were out of most things, but at least we got cereal and toast.  Plus I finally found an Aussie crush.  Or…a Scottish crush, actually.  Picture a gorgeous, vibey-haired 25-ish year-old on a working holiday…who also happened to be SUPER NICE.  I mean, sure, I guess he had to be friendly working for the hostel and all, but still.  His name is Andrew and he handed me my bowl of half plain Rice Krispies/half Cocoa Krispies.  Yummy…

Since we couldn’t afford a sailing trip to the Whitsunday Islands we spent a lot of time at the lagoon (still had the whole stingers in the ocean water issue).

This couple just stood in the water and stared into each others’ eyes for like an hour.  I’m not kidding.

On Wednesday we took the beach walk path down to town and sweated and died of heat exhaustion at least twenty times.  We unfortunately didn’t see any of the saltwater crocodiles that inhabit the sea/swampy area by our hostel.

The way back we took the hostel’s shuttle.  Nice bus stop view, eh?

And guys…the driver was Andrew!  Swoon…

Back at the room we met our other two roommates, as the bitchy brunette left (thank GOD).  One was the awesome redheaded Brit I mentioned earlier and the other was a, um…”quirky” Australian lady probably in her 50’s.  I’m pretty sure she was cross-eyed and had some kind of social disorder.  We later found out that after we left she kept the gas on (this particular hostel had tiny kitchenettes in the cabins), almost poisoning our new friend!

That night Jessica, the red head (if you’re reading this I’m not using your name since I forgot to ask if it’s ok!), and I went out for a chill seafood dinner and drinks after lounging on our porch (which included a hammock).  It was so brilliant to have a new gal in our group since Jessica and I often ran out of things to talk about at this point.

I so look like Rudolph in this pic…

A guy with a guitar sang cover songs, most of them of U2, which in a weird way was a lovely, little taste of home.  I went back on the early side due to one of my classic headaches and Jessica and the red head continued on.  Apparently they ran into a 21 year-old’s birthday party and Jessica was asked to spank the birthday girl.  She did.  I wish I had a photo.  She swears she did it because she was trying to help the girl out so she didn’t have to ask a drunk guy…but then minutes later the girl had to imitate, um…an intimate position…and she did that with no qualms whatsoever with a dude.  Ahh, well, Jess.  You still get a gold star in my book.

On the second day we got way too much sun trying to waste time until our evening bus came.  That ride to the bus was our last interaction with sexy Andrew.  I found out from another girl who works there that all the 20-somethings that work at the local hostels party together and often end up hooking up.  The clubs in Airlie are opened until 5 a.m. and the morning 6:30 a.m. shuttle is the “gossip” shuttle.  Oh, to be so young again…

TRAVEL NIGHT to HERVEY (Thursday, December 10^th)

Boarding the night bus was a complete and total nightmare.  We didn’t get assigned seats and those backpackers who had done this before snuck on and “reserved” all the seats before they checked-in and stored their bags.  By the time Jess and I got on we couldn’t sit anywhere near each other.  I was in the second row and Jessica was towards the back.  It was a full bus.

The driver warned us this wasn’t a party bus, though a good handful of the 20-somethings definitely boarded drunk and had some booze stashed.  The Coach Captain, as they like to be called, said he had a special device that alerts him if there is even a sniff of alcohol in the air and that if anyone is caught with it they will be fined a huge sum and taken to jail.  I’m pretty sure Greyhound Australia wouldn’t put up the money for such a high-tech and highly implausible gadget, though I think some of the idiots believed him.

The driver also half-joked that we will be driving through a lot of kangaroo country and that he doesn’t stop for them.  Now this could get interesting.

He started the film Eagle Eye…and then it shut off half way into it because Greyhound doesn’t allow films past 10 p.m. so people can sleep.  That sucked.

Soon after most people passed out…but of course I could not.  I had no pillow, I was in an aisle seat, and the girls in the row across me kept giggle-chatting.  Finally I wrapped my USC sweatshirt around my neck in a mock travel pillow fashion and got a tiny bit of in-and-out shut-eye…until…

I woke around 1 a.m. to the sound of our bus driver honking his horn like a maniac.  Moments later the bus jerked to the right almost knocking me out of my seat.  WTF???  We were traveling over 80 kilometers per hour.  The driver picked up his radio and relayed a message that he just barely missed a family of 4 kangaroos.

Only one other guy was awake in the front and as soon as we heard that we stretched to see.  Seconds later he did it again—honked like he was about to drive into a shopping mall and swerved the tank of a bus almost off the road.

And I saw it.  A huge gray kangaroo crossing the road!  There should be a joke in there somewhere.

A typical sign in AU…

Anyway, this insanity continued for the next thirty minutes or so.  It was terrifying, really…like you were stuck in a racecar videogame that involved kangaroo dodging amongst other obstacles and you had absolutely no control whatsoever.

I could see the blog headline: Tricia and Jessica Inadvertently Kill a Kangaroo.

Or news headline: A Bus Full of Backpackers Die in Unfortunate Kangaroo-Induced Crash.

I’m happy to report, however, that no kangaroos were hurt in the making of this blog.

Jess slept well.  I hate her.  (for that).

HERVEY BEACH (Friday, December 11^th)

When we arrived at Hervey we were exhausted.  We checked-in to our 2^nd non-YHA hostel called NEXT Backpackers which we found from Lonely Planet.  It was nice indeed and even had our own, private bathroom since we had to get a double room due to availability.  Such luxury!!!

We had heard the town of Hervey left much to be desired, as it was just a stop over point along the tourist trail and often used as the gateway to Frasier Island.  Thank goodness we only had one night there because it was a kind of a hick beach town…you know when trailer parks instead of hotels line the oceanfront.  The actual beach was fine…

…and we could actually get in the water since we were finally south enough of the tropical stingers.

This is the tree I slept under…

As we window-shopped to kill time we came across a group of disheveled townies yelling “Faggots!” to a hippy couple with a baby.  Real nice.

When it came time for dinner we were starving and ended up having the most horrible Chinese food buffet ever.  Just thinking about it makes me sick.  We called it an early night not only because we had an early bus ride and are old and lame, but also because we figured the nightlife there was probably not our scene.

TRAVEL DAY to BYRON BAY (Saturday, December 12^th)

We had a rather uneventful bus ride to Byron Bay (YAY!!!) and arrived before 6 p.m. so we actually had some time to explore before dark.  From Byron on we were back to the YHA hostels.  We were lucky to get a room at all in Byron since everything was sold out and the only way we got our double room was because someone canceled last minute.

As my friend Sarah mentioned, Byron Bay is the Santa Cruz of Australia.  It’s a hippy or boho-chic lover’s paradise.

We loved it right away because one of the main streets right by our hostel is “Lawson Street”!  Holla!

And how fab is this painting?  Love the beautiful curves, ladies!

We stumbled upon a quaint market where lots of beautiful people in dreads sold their handmade wares…

Aura photos, anyone?

BYRON BAY & TRAVEL NIGHT to Sydney (Sunday, December 13^th)

The next morning we decided to do the famous walk to the Byron Bay lighthouse.  We weren’t thinking about how hot and humid it was, mainly because that was really the only time we had to do the walk and we figured it wasn’t too far.

Well…as usual, we were wrong.  Did I mention we were schlepping our heavy backpacks with our laptops since we were desperate to find wifi (and never did)?  After about an hour of sweating Jessica bounced and headed for the beach.

I continued on and it was definitely a challenge at points…especially in flip-flops.  SO many stairs…so little arch support.  I’m so glad I did it though…

I even saw some wildlife…

Saw the eastern most point of the Australian mainland…notice the HOTTTTTT guy to the right!

And FINALLY made it to the top!

I met up with Jess and enjoyed the perfect water and surroundings.  Entire Aussie families carried surfboards and BBQ’d.  This was my favorite beach of the entire trip.

That evening we sat along the shore and people-watched…

The birds people-watched, too…

Look at this gorgeous beach wedding…

Then we prepped for our second night bus ride.  We were soooo not looking forward to it.  Someone was looking out for us because we befriended these two hilarious guys from our hostel who were also on the overnight ride…

Two Brits from the Manchester area, they kept us cracking up the entire hour our bus was late and then some.  They actually did a Whitsundays sailing tour, though as backpackers they opted for a moderately priced one.  Turned out the sleeping arrangements were a complete nightmare, they almost capsized, and superhero-sized horseflies bit them the entire time!  Jess and I joked that we were so happy we didn’t do that, though what a great blog entry that would’ve been.  To anyone who travels to Australia do please know that the Whitsundays are spectacular (one of the top beaches on the planet is Whitehaven) and all you need to remember is that you get what you pay for…the sailing trips are something you want to spend money on.

Oh!  AND THEY SAW SHARKS!!  Honest to good ones in the water off of Frasier Island.  We saw the video.  SO JEALOUS.

We wish we could’ve sat next to them, but as usual the boarding was utter chaos…but this time we were the jerks.  If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!  I snuck on and saved Jess and I two seats together while she kept my bag in line.  The guys sat in the back.  By the toilet.  Because that’s all that was left.  I should’ve snuck on a bigger bag…!

This bus ride was horrendous as well, mostly because the drivers smoked so we had to stop every few hours throughout the entire night.  Even with my newly purchased travel pillow I didn’t get much sleep and neither did Jess.  We knew that day wasn’t going to be pretty.  Our new friends got off a couple of hours before us.  It was an “emotional”. 

LAST DAYS OF SYDNEY (Monday, December 14^th – 15^th Aussie time)

As I mentioned at the top of the blog Jess and I were useless human beings yesterday morning.  After a long nap we walked around downtown Sydney and attempted some Christmas shopping at this famous mall inside the historical Queen Victoria building…

We gave up after about a half hour.

The bar by the hostel was offering $10 all-you-can-eat pizza night and so we decided to give it a go.  Boy was that a mistake!  Do not try and be “California” and order the grilled eggplant and zucchini pizza at a pub.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  Thank goodness we were starving or else we would’ve just thrown those dollars away.  The place got packed quick and while it was kind of nice to be in a crowded pub for once it also got to be a bit much.  We didn’t stay for the crab races…which we later found out were hermit crabs.

Today we explored Royal Botanical Gardens and got a better look up close of the Harbour Bridge and Opera House.

Mrs. Macquaire’s Chair…

A random highlight for the coffee-obsessive in me?  So Starbucks in Oz has different holiday drinks than at home.  Instead of mint mochas they have dark chocolate cherry ones.  I tried a frappaccino version and…SO GOOD!  I also enjoyed the fact that they placed Christmas music there just like at home.  You don’t hear Christmas music anywhere here…not in cafes, not in malls.  So strange…

And now I’m about to go to bed and we’ll be on a jet plane in less than 11 hours.

I’ll probably do one more blog Wednesday or Thursday about our trip home…but I want to say thanks for reading now in case you’re already way over it!  It’s been a great trip…even though we had no run-ins with sexy, foreign artists.

Next time…

Hope to see you all soon!  xx

Day 16 (or Sunday, December 6^th Aussie time)

This morning we both woke from our creaky, hostel bunk beds like kids on Christmas morning, as snorkeling the GBR topped our Aussie “To Do” list.  I mean, who doesn’t enjoy serene boat cruises, cute, colorful fish, and the exotic adventure of swimming off a tiny island in what seems is the middle of a paradisical nowhere?

And I really, really wanted to see a shark.  Ideally not while snorkeling, but somewhere out in the great blue expanse while safely snapping photos from an upper deck.

But a couple of hours later as our “Great Adventures” tour boat did somersaults through the insanely choppy Pacific I wasn’t sure I’d be able to pry my twisted stomach off the faded carpet floor.

Here is our boat peacefully resting pre-board…

I know…the water looks perfect, right?  Hahahahahah…

As I mentioned earlier in this blog I don’t get seasick.  Well, I “didn’t”…until Green Island.  Serves me right for making fun of Jess and Karen back in Sydney, I suppose.  And I thought I had intestines of steel.  Reality bites.

When I saw the sign regarding the unusually violent December waves back at the docks I dismissed the warning.  I mean, if my tummy had absolutely no issues in 30 years of roller coasters, ferryboats, skydiving, and authentic dim sum, I cockily figured I’m golden.  Even when they told us everyone had to sit inside the boat the waves were so bad I didn’t flinch.  I chocked it up to the tour company being overly cautious as to avoid any kind of lawsuit.

Jess could tell right away the waves were going to be a problemo and was wise enough to take the complimentary ginger pills and ice they handed out to guests like tap water.  Boy did I regret the free coffee and stale cookies I inhaled as everyone boarded.

See, I wasn’t the only one who didn’t LOVE those biscuits…

I want to say thanks again to Jess for braving the boat snack counter swarmed by a huge group of Japanese tourists for said bad treats.  She got elbowed and shoved more in those five minutes than in her entire concert business career.

I tried to play it cool at first.  Sure, the fact that our boat feels like it’s going 90 miles per hour over skate park jumps is fine.  Thrilling and fun, even!  What?  Why am I staring at the seat back in front of me like it’s the Holy Grail?  Because it’s a fine study in mid-level public transport upholstery.  Duh.  And I look sea foam green because…the ocean is sea foam green…-ish blue.

But finally my fear of chucking in one of those little white plastic baggies they had everywhere made me fold.  Why do they make them see-through-ish white, anyway?  I mean, how gross if someone actually does hurl in one?  I don’t want to see what they had for breakfast!

Anyway, Jess shared some of her ice with me, which was very nice.  I have no idea if it did anything beneficial, physically, but it diverted my attention enough to get me through the remainder of the hour-long joyride.

So as you can imagine our arrival at Green Island was very welcome.  And from the dock it actually looked just like the postcards.  Perhaps we did find paradise!

As we walked onto the island we soon found that it was, of course, converted into a day trip tourist trap/island resort.  It also smelled funny amidst some of the tree-dense sections—kind of like moldy gym socks.  Not sure what that was about.

At least the beaches were beautiful, though!

We eagerly gathered our rented snorkeling gear from the aquatic store and prayed the fact that we opted “no” on the stinger suits wasn’t a bad idea.  Back in Cairns the locals said we should be fine out at the islands, so we assumed the sales dude was just trying to up sell us via irrational fears.

If you’re wondering why we didn’t choose to scuba dive over snorkeling it was for a couple of reasons: lack of cash and Jess’s (and now we know, my) seasickness.  If you dive you’re stuck out on a pontoon all afternoon and since the water was so choppy we didn’t think that was such brilliant idea.

At the first snorkeling beach everyone was in stinger suits.  Literally.  Ruh-oh.  Maybe we f-d up.  Since there also wasn’t a lifeguard in sight and we only had enough health insurance to ship our dead bodies back to LA we trudged to the other snorkeling beach.  It was less crowded with a handful of people in regular swimsuits complete with a lifeguard.  Score!

Then came us trying to put on the snorkeling equipment.  Sure, this should be simple enough for your average 5 year-old, but somehow our flippers kept getting swept out to sea and no matter how much saliva I expectorated into my mask it still fogged up.  Every time.

Finally we were ready for some serious GBR action!

While this photo is terrifyingly horrible…I mean, we literally look “special”…I had to put it up.  One thing we’ve learned on this trip is to leave our vanity in LA…!!  Or at least most of it.  I mean…we’re girls.

Thanks to Jess’s underwater camera we have that lovely photo.  Please forgive the lack of sea life photos to follow, but my fancy, new camera was locked up for most of the time we were on Green Island and Jess’s camera quickly died.  Apparently water seeped into the battery cavity…which is strange considering the whole point of an underwater camera is the ability to take it…wait for it…IN THE WATER.  We should’ve known it was a sign…

Off we went into the aquamarine waters to find Nemo.  However, all we found was sand.  And seaweed.  We kept swimming around thinking we must be at the wrong spot.  It all looked the same.  For one brief moment we saw a handful of fish next to a spot of coral the size of my backpack.

Jess and I tried to communicate through our masks such things like:

“WTF?”

“Do you see anything?!  Cause I don’t see anything!?”

“Where’s the reef????????”

Eventually we gave up on the lifeguarded beach and went back to the stinger suit beach hoping we were just on the wrong side.

By that time most all of that earlier group was gone.  Once again we battled our snorkel gear and went out…to find much of the same.

Ladies and gentlemen…it turns out that if you really want to see the reef you MUST go out on a pontoon.  The tour we booked neither explained NOR included that.  We naively assumed that if you go on a Great Barrier Reef snorkeling tour that you could snorkel to the GBR.  As with most things on the Australia tourist trail…if you want that…you have to pay extra…and by the time we acquired this knowledge it was pretty much too late.

Jess and I were so disappointed.  I mean snorkeling for simply swimming’s sake is great and all, but seriously?!

There were almost tears, as I was really hoping this was going to be AMAZING.  An even better life experience than what we dreamt of.  I didn’t want the GBR to be a snarky blog write-up!!!!!

And so off we went to the Information desk where I pleaded for mercy regarding our snorkel tour miscommunication plight.  I’ve worked in Customer Service-oriented jobs before.  I knew the drill.  Luckily there was still one last thing we could do.  The last glass-bottom boat tour of the day was at 1:45 p.m.  We had ten minutes to catch it…and yes, she put us on it for free.

When we saw how small the boat was we were a lot nervous, but the beauty of staring straight down at your feet is that you don’t notice the bobbling horizon.

I wish the photos were better, but you can only capture so much through glass and surely those stunning photos you see on postcards are specially lit and professionally shot.  In the water.

Once we saw how huge some of the GBR fish were…Jess and I were kind of glad our flippers didn’t get us out quite that far.

There are huge clams the size of my car!  We even saw Nemo…though he was too fast a swimmer for met to catch on my digital cam.

Anyway, not too bad a consolation prize…even though I saw no sharks.  Jess and some random 13 year-old swore they saw a small one from the dock…but before I drew my attention toward the correct blue water blob it was gone.

We still had some time to lie on the beach for a bit and eat cookies and cream ice cream cones.  Thank GOD the ride back wasn’t as bad as the ride out…though I wouldn’t want to do it every day…or every year for that matter.

After showering back at the hostel we primped for a dinner out on our last night in Cairns—a big splurge for us budget-traveling girls.  It felt so good to put on (gasp!) full make-up, a dress, and heels.  The esplanade wasn’t too hopping since it was Sunday night and the off-season, but we found a charming-enough, semi-packed steak and seafood house with seats outside.

Although this was a pricey restaurant you ordered your food from the counter and were given a very noisy vibrator that told you when it was ready.  I’m very proud of myself for making it through the entire restaurant and deck without spilling my chicken avocado salad.  It was a heavy plate and my heels slipped in and out of the boardwalk like floor they had in front of house.

I swear that was the best salad I’ve ever had.  Not just because it had avocado, sun dried tomatoes, and Kalamata olives on it, but because it was real food and not pb&j, nor fast food.  Ok, and it was also the company (Jess!) and the lovely atmosphere.

We chatted about love, friends, the near end of our trip, and where our lives will be in 2010.  Of course we have no answers…which is a little scary…but also a little wonderful.

There are two things you “must do” in Cairns…or so all the guidebooks and tour operators say.  One is see one of the “7 Natural Wonders of the World,” the Great Barrier Reef.  The other is to explore the surrounding rainforests once solely inhabited by the Aborigines.

We booked a rainforest tour for Saturday and the GBR (Great Barrier Reef) for Sunday.  Seems pretty easy…yet if you saw the plethora of tours offered you might just give up and go drink a $14 cocktail on the esplanade instead.

One of the wonderful things about the Cairns tours is they’re flexible, so if you don’t love waking up at 6:30 a.m. for a ten hour tour…you don’t have to…meaning time for pre-trip coffee.  Better for all involved.  Trust me.  And there was a Gloria Jean’s Coffees (Aussie equivalent to Starbucks or Coffee Bean) across from our hostel in a shopping mall.

Jess and I have become addicted to the Cinnamon Gingerbread Iced Chocolate.  Mmm….  As Jess said, some backpackers go hungry in order to use their money for alcohol…we go hungry so we can afford a good latte.  We’re SO OLD.

And a random note on one of the many differences between U.S. and Aussie customer/food service.  Over here there are very few trash cans.  We’ve literally carried around trash for blocks at a time scratching our heads that there isn’t more litter…like everywhere.  Well we finally figured out that it’s because at most food places (fast food, coffee, casual, you name it) you’re supposed to leave your trash on the tables and then the workers come and collect it.  Quite nice, I suppose, yet I shudder to imagine what an LA Starbucks would like during morning rush hour.

Now the first thing you do when you get to Kuranda is take the Sky Rail up a big, green, rainforest-ish mountain range.  Not bad a view, eh?

There are two stops along the way where you can get off the ride and take short walks to see a bit more of the rainforest.  And I do mean “a bit.”  We did more hiking walking to the local Cairns grocery store.

The area was surprisingly dry and a lot of the vegetation didn’t seem toooooo exotically different from what we have in the states.  I mean, can you imagine tourists dropping $80+ a pop to take a Skyline up the Appalachians?  Hmm…maybe we should learn from our Aussie tourism-biz brethren.  Perhaps I just found my “get out of jail for not paying student loans”-free card, after all?

Since we saw absolutely NO WILDLIFE WHATSOEVER besides some bitchy, biting Carpenter ants it was nice they had a little observatory with some creepy photos of the animals that supposedly really do inhabit the area.

Yeah…THIS is what was crawling on our Vegan Life Sanctuary roof…

Not quite something you’d buy your niece a stuffed animal of, let alone cuddle at night.  We did hear a lot of birds…but the only ones I saw were the same ones that shit on everything back in town.

And then there was the waterfall.  It was a wee trickle compared to how it will be during the peak of the rainy season.  Australia has been in a drought for quite some time, so hopefully this year will be abundant.

Finally, the village of Kuranda—the “Aboriginal” village” where you can buy local goods—was anything but quaint and authentic.  It was another glossy tourist trap where they stick you for 3-5 hours to buy tacky t-shirts, kangaroo scrotum bottle openers, and a tiny collection of Aboriginal art selling for $500-$5,000…by Asians and white people.

The highlights were the Crocodile Dundee-themed store where they sold almost every disgusting part of Aussie animals (umm…?)…

this cartoonish sculpture outside an art gallery…

and the plethora of stunning, overpriced opals we unfortunately couldn’t afford.

The only aboriginals we saw in Kuranda were sleeping on park benches and hooting out of their pick-up trucks on their way to the convenience store for cigarettes and forties.  Quite sad, as from what we’ve heard their plight in Australia has become very much like that of many Native Americans in the U.S.  A huge alcohol, drug, and unemployment problem…and Jess and I couldn’t help but wonder if they ever saw any or much profit at all from the pricey artworks the tourist shops peddled “on their behalf.”

This is the only authentic aboriginal artwork we could “afford”…

Last but not least there was the tourist train ride back to Cairns.

They squash in as many people as possible on this non-air conditioned steam engine and take an hour and a half to go what took about 25 minutes to drive.  We did have constant entertainment from a gorgeous, loving German family and their young son whose smiley innocence was intoxicating.

The views of the rainforest were no different from what we already saw, though the last part where we went through the actual town of Cairns was quite interesting.  A group of beaming Aboriginal children waved at us from their swimming hole in a local river.  Fields of green plants of sugar cane from a once booming farm industry still cover much of the inland.

It was also nice to see where the Cairns inhabitants actually lived.  If I had to do it over again I wouldn’t have done the Kuranda tour.  The Blue Mountains tour outside of Sydney was enough schlepping around vegetation like herded, deep pockets cattle, for me.  Just seeing the rolling rainforest all around you from the tropical beaches is enough…unless you can afford an amazing “off the tourist trail” exploration…in which case I say go for it and please bring me along.

After we got back to the hostel we took a walk along the waterfront and stumbled upon a quirky, little Cairns band playing everything from Christmas medleys to Green Day covers.

It was the perfect, chill, locals cap to our tourist-induced coma of a day.

Thank you, UNIVERSE.

UP NEXT (hopefully tomorrow): Kind of Snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef + Airlie Beach…

We’re in Hervey Bay today/tonight (seems kind of like a redneck beach town people only come to in order to hit up Frasier Island), heading to Byron Bay early tomorrow (hippy beach town), back in Sydney on the 14th where we’ll finally get to Coogee Beach and a proper Aussie pub, then fly back to LA on the 16th.  I still hope to get the lost days of Sydney + Melbourne up on the blog, but we’ll see!  While it’s been a LONG TRIP this last leg is going to fly…

Hope to post a nice, big blog tomorrow or next from Hervey Beach (the gateway to Frasier Island).

Tonight we have our first long and winding overnight bus ride, which should be very interesting…especially since they make everyone deboard the bus every time the driver refuels.  Still haven’t quite figured that one out yet.  How cranky will Jess and I be tomorrow morning?  Hmm.  Any bets??

Anyway, here is a little something in the meantime to make you  smile:

A TYPICAL AUSSIE BEACH GUY…

A typical European tourist in Australia…

Any questions?

Hehe.  If I had to see it…so do you.    G’Night…

We’ve been in Australia for two weeks, yet it seems like months.  Not in a good or bad way, just that living out of an evil hiking backpack and never having a perfect sense of your surroundings or general life purpose, makes one’s sense of time do funny things.

Another quirk is that being around so many international visitors one picks up strange bits of dialogue and intonations in speech.  Jess kept calling me out on asking, “…, yeah?” after almost every sentence in Melbourne.  We think I picked it up from our adorable walking tour guide who spoke like every statement was a question and might be a Canadian trapped in a Melbourner’s body.  And now that I realize I’m doing it I’m self-conscious every time I approach the end of a thought.  I mean, what happened to my normal end-of-sentence American-speak, like, “…right?” or “…, huh?”  Maybe it went on vacation to Greece instead.

Ahhh, well.  There are worse things than sounding Canadian to inherit, I suppose.  Jess occasionally slips into a strange half-Aussie accent…maybe she’ll have it down by December 16^th.  And if you think we said, “No worries,” before…just wait.  The Australians say it ALL THE TIME.

Only 11 Days left on our whirlwind Australia tour and before I go any further I should say…

Seasons Greetings from Cairns!

The Aussie’s have an obsession with putting kangaroos in their holiday decorations…

Flight up here was pretty uneventful despite the 4:20 a.m. wake-up time and discovery that Aussies seem to think it’s totally ok to butt in line if the person in front is even the tiniest bit slow(er).  In LA if someone blatantly skips a line they’d get shot.  Ok, not shot, but at that very least some serious stink eye.

Cairns is great…though we’re not quite sure why no one told us that December starts the “off-season” due to insane rain and stingers (R.I.P. Steve Irwin).

AND THERE IS NO BEACH.  At least not one you can lie on, most certainly not now.  This is what it looks like at low tide…not too appetizing, eh?  :/

So instead we have the “lagoon”…

…which as you can see is really a huge public pool by the bay.

And you lie on grass…

Again, lovely…just not quite what we expected.  We’ll get more traditional “beaches” on the Whitsunday Islands, Fire Island, and Byron Bay.  We think.

Did I mention it’s HOT?  Like sweaty, hanging out inside a K-Mart blow dryer HOT??  So hot and humid even the reindeer pass out from heat exhaustion…

And yeah…waterproof, sweat proof SPF 15 has nothing on the Aussie, “no ozone layer” sun.  Hopefully we’ll be badass tan by the end of the trip instead of looking like ridiculous hypercolor burn victims.

Jess didn’t quite rub hers in…

…and I missed my back almost entirely…

And here are Jess VS. THE BACKPACK battle wounds (so far):

Let’s hope she wins the next round and doesn’t get accosted by a concerned battered women’s group.

Hungry?

Yeah…we opted for margarita pizza instead.  Something about eating Australia’s furry national animal just doesn’t seem right.

Yesterday we “explored” the rainforest and today we snorkel the reef (yay!!!!!!).  I’ll describe these strange and exciting adventures soon, plus I still have to catch up on Sydney/Melbourne!  My, time is a flyin’ by.

But for now…here is a fun image to leave you with that might not be suitable for small children…

What can I say?  My blog is seriously lacking in the “sex, drugs, and rock and roll” department.  This is about as edgy as we get (for now…let’s hope), folks… 

I should mention that there were no sheets on our beds…for apparently you’re to bring your own.  A little important detail Ostii forgot to mention…?  The bedspreads were soft color explosions, though they had seen better days.  On top of each bed was a mismatched, wool blanket.

We cranked the heat up—not only for warmth, but also to use as white noise to try and drown out all of the creepy nocturnal sounds.

As we settled in Jess grabbed her blanked, then—

SHRIEKED IN TOTAL UTTER TERROR!

She impressively bolted from her bed onto mine like a terrified flying squirrel.  Amidst streaming tears she explained there was a huge spider.  IN HER BLANKET.

At first I didn’t see it, but when I got up…oh, yeah there it was.  It crawled over one of the folds and paused.  This was NOT an LA spider.  It was a huge, full-bodied, reddish-orange arachnid…the largest, scariest spider either of us had seen outside a zoo.  As Jess later said, “It had joints and a face!”  Indeed I swear it looked at me…almost to say, “Hi.  I’m going to bite you and your little, blonde friend now.”

We heard the quotes about how Australia has the largest number of poisonous spiders and snakes than any other country in the world.  And there we were in their preferred “bush” turf.  What were we thinking?

I didn’t know what to use to try and kill it, so in the moment I grabbed a stack of old Newsweek magazines I brought on the trip to finally read out of my backpack.  Heart racing, I whacked at the blanket…which only flung the red, probably venomous terrorist into the air and on the ground near a convenient crevice for him to hide.  Good one, Trish.  If only I chose softball instead of dance like most of my childhood friends.

Now I know I’m going to sound ridiculous, but the spider genuinely looked as scared of me—the 5’7” jittery human wielding paper weapons—as I was about it.  Before it found said crevice it looked left, right, and behind until it finally discovered the safe zone.  Unfortunately for him it wasn’t so safe since I was able to shove one of the Newsweeks under the wall and into the fold to force it out.  Back out on the floor it once again ran in tiny circles like my family’s former Miniature Collie Ashley used to do when she got excited.

And then I went for it.  I slammed the magazines into the wood floor.  Still alive.  I tried again.  Still ticking.  At this point I thought we might be dealing with super spider or a close cousin of the nasty flying armored cockroaches I encountered during my summer in Orlando, FL.  So I grabbed the next closest hard-surfaced thing—Jessica’s left sneaker.

Whack-whack-whack…and finally the spider was torn into about four or five wriggling pieces.  I scraped the carnage off the floor and the shoe with my Newsweeks.  Of course the ones I grabbed were the ones I had NOT yet read.  Oh, well.  They sacrificed themselves for a higher purpose.

At this point Jess was having a complete and total meltdown.  While she acts all tough…even Jess gets freaked out sometimes.  She wanted to leave, then and there, but she felt bad because she knew this WWOOF thing was something I wanted to do and write about.  She had strong gut feelings from the moment we stepped out of the bus that we shouldn’t stay there.

I explained that while yes, this was my travel experiment, the fact that we could’ve been bitten by poisonous creatures while sleeping changed things.  I also didn’t feel completely safe there and the fact that they didn’t even stock the kitchen for us was odd.  We came up with a compromise—try to get a hotel that night and then work for them the next morning/afternoon, and then catch the train back to Melbourne.  However, we didn’t yet realize that we had no cell phone coverage, it was 11 p.m., the hosts were asleep in other buildings across the bush, and we had no access to transportation.  Also, the couple of hotels back in Daylesford village weren’t like the Hyatt or Marriott.  They looked like props from an old silent film set.  We tried to call Ostii several times, but the voda phone wouldn’t work.  I even turned on my iPhone (for emergencies) and couldn’t get through.

What could we do?

Well…Jess suggested we both sleep on my (twin) bed covered up like cocoons until morning.  I offered that we could stay up all night on spider look-out and just crash early the following night.  We ended up canvassing the entire room for spiders, CSI-style.  I shoved those Newsweeks in every crevice I could find, we looked under every bed and corner.  All was clear, from what we could see.  We both had to use the restroom, but refused to go outside and so we held it all night LOOOOOOOOONG.

Literally clad from head to toe—hooded sweatshirts tied around our heads, me in my sneakers and Jess in her UGGS—we went to bed with the lights on.  I took Jess’s bunk.

Ten minutes in we both heard weird noises.  It sounded like someone was outside…but when we looked out no one was there.  We heard more.  Then it sounded like something or things were on the roof.  WTF?!

It was not a good night…waking up about every twenty minutes, looking around to be sure nothing was crawling on us.  We both had the most messed up dreams/nightmares.

Of course the best thing to do after a night of restless half-sleep is to do yoga with an awkward host-stranger.  Ostii asked us how we slept and I told him about the spider. He shrugged it off and said it was probably just a Huntsman…though he’d never seen a red one.  And apparently the small spiders are often the most deadly.  Mmm-hmmm.  He joked that what we really should worry about are the rats and possums that climb on the roof and sometimes manage to sneak in rooms.  Whaaaaaaat?!?!  I don’t care if the rats and possums are vegan or not…I don’t want to share my bed with them or anything else!  At least we now knew who was pitter-pattering on the roof…and it wasn’t a confused Santa Claus…

In the yoga room Zalan was already there deep into his own, personal, super intense yoga/meditation practice.  Jess and I suffered through a guided session with Ostii.

It was very different from the LA yoga we were used to…a lot of repetitive motions and it was freezing in the room.  By the end of the one-hour session Ostii’s energy towards us changed—or at least so it felt.  Let’s just say most yoga sessions end with a warm “Namaste”…but he gave us the fakest half-smile and seemed a bit annoyed with us.  It couldn’t be because we sucked at yoga because we held our own, impressively I might add, with all the backpacking we’d been doing.

We had an hour before vegan farming time.  Jess and I grabbed quickly ripening bananas from the guest kitchen.  Back at the room things got intense…

Jess was mad because I was all “let’s leave” the night before, but then I didn’t say anything when Ostii got us for yoga.  I explained that I tried to go there, but he laughed our concern off.  Jess said we were bringing negative energy into their “sacred place” and that’s why he was giving us bad energy back and he wasn’t going to give us a “get out of WWOOF” free card unless we owned our fears and were firm and honest with him.  She was right…yet it was hard because I was the one who set this all up and I hate quitting things.  In the daylight the place was beautiful…yet in the night not so much.  If I was traveling alone I probably would’ve sucked it up and suffered through the final 2 days.  Jess said “being nice” wasn’t enough to keep her—nor should it me—there.  We tried it, it wasn’t for us, and we wanted to leave.

Ostii came with a bucket of cleaning supplies and a vacuum for us at 10 a.m.  Oh dear God he was going to make us clean rooms.  That’s when Jess told him the fact that there was a potentially poisonous spider in her bed meant that we weren’t comfortable there and didn’t want to stay another night.  There was an awkward pause and…

…by some miracle Ostii had genuine arachnophobia when he was a kid and understood…even though Jess doesn’t really have arachnophobia…but he didn’t seem to quite get what we were saying:

Daddy Long Leggers = fine.  Huge, Red Spiders with Fangs you can see = not fine…

But we kind of just went with it since arachnophobia was just as good an excuse.  He did seem disappointed, but acted cool.  Zalan offered us another room…but they quickly realized that wasn’t the whole problem.

And then Jess and I were Cinderellas for two hours cleaning ten guest rooms…when we used to have a Cleaning Lady at our old apartment.  Jess went through 2 dysfunctional vacuums until one finally worked.  I had one sponge to clean everything…no paper towels, no rags.  Ostii offered me newspaper to wipe things down, which as you can guess was NOT a good idea.

We had a two-hour break from noon – 2 p.m. where we cooked lunch of…guess…potatoes!  This time we added some soy sauce, which made them tastier yet even soggier so we mashed them.  Dessert was a shared orange.  Like I said…if we stayed I might’ve had a six-pack for the first time in my life.

After lunch we thought we were gardening, which was actually kind of fun the night before.  But no.  In the kitchen we met one of Ostii’s two son’s, Tyber, a super cute, yet insanely ADHD 4 year-old.  The kid kept jumping around and banging the sides of his head like a tambourine.  He was our unofficial “helper”.

Kelly, quirky hippy I mentioned yesterday, was moving out and needed help lugging her crap from the bottom of the hill to the top where her ancient hatchback was parked.  Apparently I drive a hippy car, because Ostii and Zalan also drove hatchbacks.  Huh.

Kelly wasn’t home yet, though, so instead we put mulch onto the seedlings we planted the night before then filled dirt into tons of empty rice milk cartons.  Ostii is going to insulate his kitchen with this green alternative to insulation.  For those of you who haven’t tried to fill cardboard rice milk cartons with dirt crawling with ants before…it’s a lot harder than you’d think.  The dirt scooper was about twenty times bigger than the opening and the rocks and ants didn’t want to cooperate.  It was messy.  And hot.

Tyber and Ostii offered us snacks of almonds and macadamia nuts, followed by the most amazing homemade ice cream I’ve ever had in my life.  It was made from frozen bananas, frozen mangos, nuts, and honey.  He meant to add coconut, but forgot.  This frozen treat totally refreshed me and made me think that maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

Then Kelly returned home.  I was sent off to help her move, while Jess played with Tyber.  While it looks like I got the crappy end of the deal, playing with Tyber wasn’t easy.  Again, sweet kid, but wow.  At one point Tyber told Jess he had a hole in his underpants for his penis.  What do you say to that?!

Jess and I probably burnt almost the same amount of calories, though I did carry about six huge boxes packed with nature and religion books among many other “interesting” things.  The time was creeping closer to 5 p.m. and we needed to pack and get into Daylesford for our bus.  After Jess joined me and we carried a few pieces of awkward furniture Ostii asked if we were still up for 15 minutes of work.  We said no thanks.  Time to get this show on the road.  I mean as Jess and I thought about it they totally got the better end of the deal.  We worked 5 hours of intense hard labor…and they gave us a 5-minute ride to and from the bus, a room with poisonous spiders, and some random foliage to eat.  In Australia the minimum wage is about $15/hour…that’s more than I was making at my part-time job after graduating with a Masters from USC.  So they got $150 worth of our labor…and we got a lot of salad and night terrors.

Of course I kid (-ish)…I mean, we did learn a lot from the experience, and it is certainly a night/21 hours to remember.  Most of all we learned that we are city mice and that we should embrace it.  So we failed the vegan farming WWOOF test.  Whatevs.  I’m not my sister…I don’t want my own chickens.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that!  To each his own.  Imagine if Ostii or Zalan tried to come and live in our world…they’d probably feel the same.

The entire ride back to Melbourne we kept saying to each other, “I’m so glad we’re not at the vegan life sanctuary!!!!!!!”…all the way through our Chinese food dinner late that night (where jess happily munched on chicken) and the next day…and even now…

P.S. Later that night, tucked safely in my hostel bed, I googled the description of the spider that was in Jessica’s bed.  Turns out we’re 99% sure it was indeed a Huntsman…meaning it looked hideous…but was harmless.  Now I know why the poor little guy was so scared.  He was a friendly spider after all.  And I violently stalked and killed him.  I do feel bad, but in the end we thought we were in danger.  Trust me…you city mice would’ve freaked out, too.  So R.I.P. Casper the friendly Huntsman spider.  May you be in a happier, webbier place…

As you all know Jessica and I were supposed to be WWOOF-ing at a Vegan Life Sanctuary from yesterday until this Thursday.  And boy were we out of our “in touch with nature” league…

For those of you who don’t know WWOOF stands for “Willing Workers On Organic Farms.”  It is an alternative form of travel that allows you to see parts of the world tourists rarely see, mingle and live with (mostly rural/suburban) locals.  The hard part is you work 4-5 hours a day…in exchange for free room and board.  The types of things one can experience range greatly in a “Choose Your Own Adventure” type of way.  For instance you could volunteer on an organic winery in Tuscany, pick organic bananas in Columbia, or work the front desk at a green eco-resort in Cape Tribulation, Australia.  Some are so rustic you must bring your own tent and a small few are tricked out hotel-like accommodations.

I wanted to try it while here in Oz to see if it would make an interesting alternative travel show.  Travel is a hibernated passion of mine and most of the shows on The Travel Channel are geared toward those with lots of disposable income.  I also wanted to test my WWOOF-ability…almost a Survivor-like contest to an LA girl like myself.  While I grew up in Mechanicsburg, PA—a small town suburb of Harrisburg—I’ve definitely become a city mouse.

However, I have a sister who lives in Santa Cruz, CA—or hippy country—and I do enjoy my weekend visits with her and her more, um…”earthy” friends.  I mean her boyfriend has his own chickens in his backyard for fresh eggs, people.

Jessica has no interest in WWOOF-ing whatsoever.  However, this is our trip together and she knew I wanted to try it and didn’t mind that it would save us some dough and figured it might be a bit interesting.  So we joined WWOOF Australia.

Go to www.wwoof.org to find out more about WWOOF-ing…it’s divided into regions and you join the area you want to visit.

There are a ton of places to choose from, though it being summer in Australia a lot of the hosts I emailed were either already booked up or away on vacation during the times we’d be there.  Luckily (or so we thought) one came through…and it was the Vegan Life Sanctuary/Retreat Center in Victoria, about a two hour train/bus ride northeast of Melbourne.

I know, looks like a woody retreat paradise, right?

Obviously Jessica and I are not vegans, but it said in their post that you didn’t have to be…you just had to respect their principles while visiting.  The hosts also had an interest in yoga and from the website the retreat center looked like paradise.  Did I mention it is in Daylesford, the so-called Spa Capital of Oz?  Hello!  I mean not that we can afford hot rock massages or anything, but it has to be pretty darn nice.  Right?  Hah…

So were set and I was really looking forward to the experience.  I had no forethought that anything would go wrong.  Though with names like Zalan and Ostii (the guys who run the place), I probably should’ve had an inkling of what we were in for.

After a lovely walking tour through Melbourne that morning and the best savory crepes I’ve had outside of Paris…

…we fetched our bags from our hostel and arrived at Melbourne’s Southern Cross train station.  They canceled the Bendigo (former Aussie Gold Rush town) train before us, so two rush hour crowds would pile on our 5 p.m. ride.  If you saw the horde of unamused Victoria commuters you would understand why Jess and I were terrified.  Standing with our huge hiking backpacks, bookbags (with laptops and for Jess a freaking full-size pillow), purses, and sweatshirts on our backs for an hour would not be pretty.  By some miracle we boarded the car with a small-ish luggage rack and managed to fit all of our heavy things on the bottom.  We even snagged seats and assumed this wouldn’t be so bad after all.  Then the train conductor spoke over the loudspeaker.

People.  I really thought I loved the Australian accent.  But this guy was even harder to comprehend than Charlie Brown’s teacher.

“Mwa-mwa, mwa-mwa, mwa-mwa-mwa-mwah.”

I worried that not only are we going to miss our stop, but also if our Vegan hosts spoke like that it was going to be the longest four days of our lives.  Oh but only if accents were going to be our problem.  At one point we just got up and loaded our gear again to be prepared to run off whenever the stop was.

An Aussie woman noticed our looks of retarded confusion and asked if we knew where we were going.  I told her, “We’re going to Woodend, but we can’t understand the conductor’s accent so we got up early.”  Apparently I talk loud or everyone in the train car had nothing else going on because EVERYONE burst into laughter and chimed in, “And we can’t understand yours!”

No that’s funny.  Apparently I have an accent!  Sweet.

They then pointed to a nice librarian-esque woman and said she’d translate for us.  This woman was American…born and bread in Hollywood.  Small freaking world.  We went on to have great chats with this group of rural and suburban Aussie commuters.

One thing we were sad to learn from them is that in Cairns (the main town along the Great Barrier Reef) you can’t just jump in the ocean.  Apparently there are “too many nasties” as they call them…or deadly jellyfish, sharks, etc.—especially in summer (now).  Such a bummer!!!!!!!!!  There is a lagoon one can swim in, though, and of course you can dive and/or snorkel in the safe areas.  We head up there this Friday.  Via plane, thank GOD.

We made if off at the right train stop and onto the bus transfer to Daylesford (a town I learned I was mispronouncing all day).  This was the kind of bus that I thought only existed in 1950’s television.  The driver knew everyone’s name, made special unofficial stops to farm footpaths, and chatted with a huge, bearded gentleman who smelled like cigars and pizza about his water pipe/rat problem.  Fields of naked sheep grazed on tall grasses…their coats probably being turned into UGGS as I type this.  Road kill count: one wallaby (so sad), a few birds, a possum, and an unidentified medium-sized furry lump.

Even as we finally made it to the town we realized that we were truly in the middle of nowhere.  Granted it had its share of quaint charm, but this is SO NOT what spa country would look like in California.  Well maybe if it was the year 1957.

Then came Zalan in his beat up, old Subaru Outback-type vehicle.  I preface this next description with the fact that we found him a LOVELY, warm-hearted man, but to paraphrase Jess, her first impression was we were getting into a car with a hippy psycho killer.  His hair was silvery-white, shaved short on both sides with a mohawk-y ponytail up top.  The word gaunt can’t even describe how thin his face and frame was, as the ratty, old yoga-type clothes he wore hung from him like curtains and only kept from falling thanks to a rope he tied around his waist.  I’d guess he was in his late 60’s.  His greeting was friendly as he asked us all about our travels.  His driving was anxiety inducing.  We found out the next day his car was on the verge of breakdown.  Awesome.

Our room was a charming, colorful hippy burst of stars and moonshine.  Two modest twin beds, a small dresser, a sink, and heater.

The retreat center in all could be spectacular, though they clearly haven’t done much face-lifting, probably since the 60’s when it was most likely a hippy commune.  This is where we met Ostii.  I so wish I had photos of these two guys, as I’m not sure my description is doing them justice.  Ostii is probably in his upper 30’s and had a similar haircut as Zalan, but in brunette form.  His eyes were a piercing blue and in contrast to Zalan’s frail-ish appearance Ostii had the perfectly toned build of a hardcore yoga instructor.  Turns out there was NO ONE ELSE staying at the Sanctuary at that time except for a quirky hippy woman named Kelly.  That means Jess and I were the only two in the main building that holds 15 rooms.  The toilets and shower were outside, around a hall corner.  Oh my.

We were immediately given a tour of the grounds and taken to one of the center’s lettuce beds.  Ostii picked fresh rocket (a bitter, but yummy type of Australian greens) right from the ground and asked us to try it.  From Jessica’s face I could tell she was not excited about this, but props to her for acting like she was totally cool with eating unwashed produce.  It was incredibly good.  He then picked an armful of all kinds of greens for us to make our own salad for dinner.  To our surprise and slight dismay the Guest Kitchen was bare, with the exception of malt-free soy milk, salt, olive oil, soy sauce, Corn Flakes, and some fruit.  We were able to grab a few potatoes and an onion from the Cook’s Kitchen.  We passed Zalan making his own salad of greens, mandarin slices, avocado, peppers, and coconut that looked divine.  We were jealous.

We were starving and so Jess and I decided to make salad with tomato and cucumber, as well as fried potatoes.  If we stayed at the Vegan Life Sanctuary for four days no doubt we would’ve lost five pounds.  Right before I was about to start the cooking Ostii bounds in and asks us to help plant some lettuce seedlings, as its best to do so at night out of the sunlight.  Talk about getting right to work!

It was kind of cool to learn about how they grow things, though in all honesty it seemed like Ostii didn’t have much formal knowledge of the process it all.  We literally dug with our hands into the dirt to plant a garden the size of a surfboard.  There went any semblance of a manicure…

Then we watered the seedlings and prayed we didn’t kill anything.  Ostii totally didn’t need our help with this…but it was nice he was trying to include us and teach us something.  OR perhaps it was a test…one that we initially passed, then failed the next morning.  I mean we stuck out like sore thumbs there.  I arrived in a USC sweatshirt.  LA is about as far as you can get from Daylesford, Australia.  Ostii asked us to join him for yoga the next morning at 8 a.m., of which we welcomed since we hadn’t really exercised the entire trip except for walking and lugging our crap around.  Stretching…a blissful, “Ahhhhh.”

Jess and I dined on our soggy potatoes and fresh-picked salad…the former of which was delicious.  I could tell Jess was a little freaked out by the whole experience thus far, but I wasn’t as much because of my experiences in Santa Cruz.  Still open-minded I thought this could be a really interesting learning experience for the both us.  Turns out we definitely learned a lot…just not quite what I expected.

We headed to our bedroom around 9 p.m.  I mean, there was nothing to do there.  No TV, no internet, not enough plugs to charge things, no people, no cozy common area.  Just Jessica and I with lots of time to stare at each other and/or read.  And when you’ve just spent the last week or more traveling with someone with tons of quiet time on public transport you’ve kind of exhausted most all conversation.

It was getting really dark out.  And ghostly quiet, with the occasional exception of a gust of country wind or random birdcall.  Jessica admitted she was a little freaked out by this whole thing.  She was sure it would all be fine and she’s been camping before, but something about the place made her mind wander to thoughts of a memorable “Criminal Minds” episode where a killer lured people to his creepy Bates-like motel and then waited until morning to start screwing with them and eventually kill them.  I truly had a good vibe about the guys and wasn’t worried about them at all…though the deserted nature of our stay was a bit odd.  I had no idea there wouldn’t be anyone else there.  I mean, it was a retreat center…with no retreats.  Why would they take us if there wasn’t much to do?  As Jess kept bringing up freaky references to past “Dateline” and “20/20” episodes about tourists being hacked I begged her to stop.  If both so of us let our minds go there we’d be in trouble.

Then our door, which was locked, mysteriously blew open.  WTF?!?!?!?  We checked it again.  Yep, definitely locked.  We locked it again triple checking it was fully bolted.  About now is when we decided we’d go to the restroom together for the last time before sleep time.  We joked about how this would all probably be hilarious in the morning.

Until our little night-time intruder came moments later…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Stay tuned…hope to have it posted by the end of the day!

Now it’s really Tricia Jessica Australia…oh boy…

Jess and I made it to Melbourne late last night after 14 hours on a Greyhound Australia bus…that’s right…the bus ride through the middle of nowhere turned into the same amount of time it took us to fly over the Pacific from LA to Sydney.  The best part was it was pouring rain upon arrival at 11 p.m. last night and on the five block walk to the hostel from the bus station a cab whizzed by splashing Jessica “Bridget Jones Edge of Reason” style!  We were already soaked and it got me too, but she was in front and so got the worst of the extra typhoon.  At that point we had to laugh…what were we thinking picking the bus over just ponying up the extra $50 for a flight?  Or a cab even?  Oh yeah…we’re thinking we’re kind of unemployed…

Anyway, I was able to finish Day 4 yesterday pre-laptop battery death.  The photos take forever to upload which is also part of the time delay issue.  We’re heading to the Vegan Life Sanctuary to WWOOF later this afternoon and I’m not sure if they have internet access or not (I’m guessing no since they’re hard-core yogis and it’s a retreat center).  So I may be radio silent until Friday the 4th when we head up to Cannes for some Great Barrier Reef action.  At least I’ll have lots of time to meditate and write after picking veggies for five hours a day.

This is going to be oh-so-interesting…!

xx, Trish

DAY 4 (or Tuesday, November 24^th Aussie time)

Karen got up bright and early for a morning beach run to blow off some hyper steam.  The rest of us slowly woke to find another cloudy, cool summer day in Sydney.  Great!  Time to wear the old USC sweatshirt.  Again.

After some much-needed non-hostel machine coffee we decided to check out the famous Taronga Zoo instead of the previously intended beaches.  Of course as we entered the city it started to rain and fear that the furry creatures would seek shelter instead of pose for our pictures we made an impromptu stop at the Museum of Sydney.  Why that museum in particular?  Because that’s literally where the bus line ended and dropped us off.

Now from what I understand there are lots of wonderful museums in the city, from Contemporary Art, to Natural History, to quirky historical ones like in The Rocks.  Perhaps from working at a world renowned museum like The Getty I’ve become a bit of a museum snob because while the Museum of Sydney was a beautiful space chock full of the latest technological display gadgets, I wasn’t super impressed.  This was mostly in part because I felt it just didn’t quite know what it wanted to be.  A lot of dry, dense paragraphs describing the original British founders of Australia covered the walls, as well as a handful of drawings and photographs of the bridge construction, etc. and then it had a couple of random modern art galleries.

One of the strangest parts was the “Storylines” room which held two flatscreens on opposite sides of the room surrounded by seats (like two mini theaters).  On an interactive touch-pad screen you chose from a large variety of historical characters, some fact and some fictional representatives throughout Aussie history, and then they spoke to you about some facet of their life/cultural history.  These were of course actors performing cheesy, overly dramatic and weirdly lit monologues to camera.  Some were downright creepy.  We lasted through about four out of twenty or so and one that stood out in particular was a Hawaiian woman talking about how she and her fellow island women traded sex with the white men in exchange for ship nails to use as tools.  Now that’s an education you don’t get every third grade field trip!

The two art galleries displayed works from pop artist Martin Sharp and photographer Martin Mischkulnig.  Mischkulnig’s pictures were fascinating, as they captured pieces of outback and rural western Australia rarely ever seen by tourists.  The one I remember most was a very modest rancher in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of small kangaroo hides hanging on the laundry line to dry.  I want to hope they just found five-ish juvenile kangaroos dead from natural causes just lying around and that’s how they got there.  I have a feeling, though, that my Disney-fied version is far from reality.

Finally, the museum just wasn’t that big.  We did it all in less than two hours.  I suppose paying only $8 Australian for admission (thanks to our HI, or Hostel International, concession) plus the temporary rain cover means I really shouldn’t complain.

Upon exit we passed a swanky, catered mixer of intellectual types in abstract designer ties dining on bite-sized ham and cheese croissants.  On one hand this made me miss my Getty days full of baked brie and truffle receptions full of arts and culture talk…and on the other it made me see how much my life has changed since then…in a good way.  I think.

The rain ceased and so we grabbed a quick pasta lunch at an upscale food court that could rival Century City Plaza in LA.  Afterwards we hopped on the ferry to Taronga Zoo.

As you can see you can get the same photo on said free ferry as from our chartered sailboat ride.  Ahh, well.  C’est la vie.

When you arrive at Taronga you can either take a bus to the front entrance (which of course is nowhere near where they drop you) or ride the high rope cable car.  Tough decision, eh?  I mean anytime you have a chance to float directly above elephants, gorillas, and hungry crocodiles you should take it, right?

First we went to…guess…the koalas, of course!  These creatures could bring the warm and fuzzy corners of the darkest hearts to light.  In fact they come across as so childlike and content that they almost seemed like animatronic creations out of Jim Henson’s muppet magic lab.

We stood there for at least ten minutes just watching them eat and leap from extremely tall tree to tree.  Later in the afternoon we caught the end of a zookeeper talk regarding the koala bear.  Did you know they are generally solitary creatures and spend most of their entire lives alone?  Hence why they don’t really like to be held or touched and why the zoo no longer allows it.  Also, there is a law that states something like Aussie zoos can only have one koala per 1,000 eucalyptus trees due to the huge amounts of leaves they consume.  Now that’s an appetite.

In the kangaroo station there was a wallaby mom with her joey in her pouch—a very cool sight to see up close.

We almost lost Karen when she stumbled backwards over some rocks for a photo with an Emu.  Yeah…those rocks were the border where humans weren’t supposed to tread.  Right about then was when I realized how much we’re going to seriously miss Karen when she leaves on Sunday.  The girl is a neverending source of awesomeness mixed with serious comic relief.

This old man kangaroo just stood in the walking path with no intentions of moving…almost beckoning visitors to pet him.

The Italian did.  The rest of us were a bit scared of the wrath of the zookeeper keeping an eye on the wallaby family and quite frankly of the old kangaroo getting cranky.

We saw a lot of the usual zoo suspects, from elephants and giraffes, to penguins and peacocks.  The cool twist was the Sydney skyline in the background across the bay.

By the time we got back to the hostel it was evening and another lovely dinner of peanut butter sandwiches and potato chips ensued.  I tried to blog, but couldn’t last too long.  I’m embarrassed to admit we were all in bed by 10 p.m. (or 3 a.m. LA time).  The jetlag we experienced was so much stronger than I ever imagined.  This is also combined of course with tons of walking all day long.  We were so the old ladies at the hostel.

I woke around midnight and got up to use the restroom.  Totally out of it and barely opening my eyes I opened our room door and almost slammed it right into a gorgeous guy, scaring me half to death (meaning I jumped back and mumbled a weird sound of fright, then embarrassedly said, “Sorry!”).  The tanned, toned surfer type just laughed and replied, “Don’t say sorry.  No worries.”  I stood there for a moment, frozen.  I wanted to die.  I looked like Sleeping Beauty’s ugly cousin, Sleeping Freaky.  He looked back again at me, still smiling and laughing as he turned the corner.  I’m so cool.

Luckily…and sadly…I didn’t see him again.

Plus 12 hours = lots of time to blog…or at least until my laptop battery dies and I get back to some wifi.  Days 4-7 definitely include some travel gems & bloopers I’m excited to share.

Hope everyone is having an amazing holiday weekend and I’ll be back in touch here soon…