Singapore Slung

The flight from Sydney to Singapore wasn't as bad as I originally anticipated.  The flight itself was about 8 hours long, which for those keeping score at home is a little over half the flight from L.A. to Auckland (14 hours).  This time I managed to do it without bourbon or "medication".  I spent the entire trip doing 1 of 3 things...reading a book I found in my room at the hostel on the last day (Game of Thrones), napping like a furry fat cat (4 naps total), or checking out the incomparably hot Asian airline stewardesses on my flight.

It had to be the most attractive plane I think I've ever been on.  Air Asia X is the name of the airlines...I chose them because they have some of the cheapest flights you can purchase in all of Asia, now I know I will be choosing them for much different reasons.  I love them longtime!

My connecting flight was from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.  A very small and confusing airport.  No one was much help.  I'm pretty sure that in these countries, the people there learn the very basic greetings of English and then after that you're on your own.  

It goes something like this except you substitute the Spanish for...well...whatever language Singaporean/Malaysian people speak: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dd0tTl0nxU0

My nemesis...uh...friend...Alex Lukas

I arrive in Singapore and find my buddy Alex.  He decided he wanted to go to Singapore/Kennon's wedding in Malaysia with me, so he booked a separate flight.  What I didn't know at the time was that we were going to be stuck in the Singapore airport another 2 hours waiting on my bag.  These amazing coincidences always seem to happen to me.  It's unnecessary really, but with the way things tend to work themselves out for me, I guess I can let these minor inconveniences slide.

Apparently the airline decided they couldn't fit the "extra luggage" on the plane, so they put it on another one after we left.  By "we" I mean 4 OTHER PEOPLE, including myself...extra luggage was 5 bags between all of us.  How can you NOT fit 5 more bags on an entire plane???  I thought I'd be a bit more angry than I was but I let the blonde Swedish lady take out "our frustrations" on the airport baggage claim instead, she did a good job.  I didn't want to interrupt.

I try to spend this time usefully.  I go to the "duty-free" store and attempt to buy some cheap liquor.  However, I didn't know that if you're coming from Malaysia, you're not allowed to purchase "duty-free" alcohol.  Nothing.  I'm not sure what kind of disagreement that Singapore & Malaysia are currently having, but they need to settle that.  I should have taken this and my bag debacle as a warning sign.  

After getting my bag, I walk right past customs.  They didn't even check me.  Just waved me right though!!!  White American strikes again!  The guy at the immigration desk only asked me 3 questions and then told me of a place to stay because his main concern was that I didn't have one.  I don't know if that's something I like or not...I don't particularly believe I look like I "need help" all the time...but I'll take what I can get.  

The Hive

Finally we get out of the airport and find the address of the hostel we're staying in.  We were going to "Little India" and staying at a place called "The Hive".  A hostel my friend Kennon suggested...why?  I don't know. There's no one at this hostel, ever.  Alex and I stayed in a 10 room dorm by ourselves for 4 nights.  Which was nice, but that's kind of a reason why I like to stay in hostels is so I can meet other like minded travellers.    Not at this place.

We stayed in the first night because it was so late after we arrived from the airport.  We have 8 days here, no need to rush things.  We went out and got provisions for the next night; groceries and bourbon, you know only the necessities.  

The next night was a completely different story.  We started drinking in the mid-afternoon, we were under the impression we could make it out for happy hour.  Drinks are incredibly expensive in Singapore ($8-12 per beer), I'm under the impression it's because everything is imported but even their own brands are pricey.  Then I found out that it was mostly because of the Muslim heritage there.  They don't want you to drink, so they charge you incessant amounts of money to do so.  So I have to spend $45 on a jug of beer, but bread is $1???  Well thank you religion fanatics...

For starters

Our night was originally supposed to go smoothly, we planned on drinking a little Jimmy Beam, filling up our flasks, and going out for a few drinks....

What actually happened was we watched "The Hangover 2" during our pregame session and became so amped up at the possibility of having one of those nights, that we finished off the entire bottle...in one sitting...no flask necessary.  

We had gone exploring earlier in the day and found out that there was a light show on the river that evening, we decided to start there.  After that, Alex managed to find a loophole on the Internet about how to gain access to the top floor of the Marina Bay Sands hotel and Casino.  Which was directly across the street from the light show.  They usually charge tourists a great deal of money to go up there for the view, but we found out that if you enter the hotel on the Eastside and tell their staff that you're going to the bar for drinks, you're in...then you just keep riding the elevator all the way up!  Genius.

View from SkyBar

Magnificent view of the city from the top.  Singapore is still very much under construction so their newest garden attraction won't be open until the end of June.  This is what it's supposed to look like: http://inhabitat.com/new-photos-singapore%E2%80%99s-solar-powered-supertrees-under-construction-at-gardens-by-the-bay/gardens-by-the-bay-grant-associates-12/?extend=1

While up at the top we realized, as we do in most places, that we are completely under dressed.  We decided we either look as we think we do; uncaring, poor hippies....or white American Internet moguls who have so much money that they don't need to care what they dress like (duh, this one's obvious!).  We assume we are pulling off a Mark Zuckerberg sort of look, you know, without all the inherent douchebaggery...

SkyBar, one of the best rooftop bars in the world...apparently

$34 dollars for 2 beers later, we decide that we need to now gain access to the infinity pool party next door.  This event does not go nearly as smoothly as the first.  I think we went about it the wrong way in retrospect....we could have came up with a better plan than "follow the half-naked girls in bathrobes to the promise land" idea.  Maybe we're not the moguls we think they thought we looked like.  We had no place there...and they knew it.  

We ride down the elevator with several security staff members who are not very amused with my playful banter.   The night got a lot more sticky than that unfortunately because the Casino was within walking distance....everything else was not.  We chose the Casino....which was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad choice.  

I only have a few rules of my Casino play.  Very basic, very simple.

1)      Do not play against Asian dealers (they’re too good with numbers, I don’t like that)

2)      If they change dealers, change tables (never works out like it should, new guy/girl never has the same magic as the first)

3)      NEVER GO BACK TO THE ATM (you should be prepared to lose the money you came with, that is all...)

Obviously by now you have probably realized that during my drunkenness, I managed to break every single one of my rules that evening. 

It cost me $250…$250 that I couldn’t afford to lose considering that I was on night number 2, in country number 1, of a month long trip in which there are 2 more countries to go!!!  GRRRRR...I'm no Danny Ocean at this casino thing obviously ...more like Davy Puddle.  

Me...hating...ME

I hate myself.  To prove a point, here’s this picture…of me…hating myself. >>>

How did I not see that?  I’M IN AN ASIAN COUNTRY!  Who was I expecting to be my dealers!? 

Alex fared much better than I did, but he ended up playing too long and walking with only $10.  I wanted to throw up at that point.  I had physically made myself sick.  I wanted to go back to the dorm and pretend that it never happened.  Alex had other plans.

We tried to walk to downtown Singapore and realized we were in the wrong “downtown”.  We (Alex) wanted the bars and clubs part of town; we were in the business end.  We grabbed a cab and headed back for Little India. 

Me...hating...Alex

Not to be outdone, Alex would not let me go back, he said he’d pick up the tab for the rest of the evening but I had to go out with him.  I reluctantly took him up on his sort of kind gesture.  We chose a random bar and walked in. 

Never in my life have I felt so out of place as I did in there.  As soon as we walked in, every eye was on us.  We were NOT supposed to be here I thought.  Alex thought the same, but we ignored our initial fear and walked straight up to the bar. 

OH THE HUMANITY!

We ordered 2 shots of 2 tequila and 2 beers.  The beers the barstaff comprehended….the shots….not so much.  Mass hysteria broke out behind the bar.  No one knew what to do.  They didn’t even have shot glasses!

“So you just want the alcohol?”; “With no mixer?”; “No salt or lemon?”

You would have thought we asked them to solve a rubix cube...fail...and die!  They were baffled, glasses were broken. They had to call in one of the waitresses to help solve our alcoholic riddle. It was funny, probably the first time I smiled since the Casino.  I couldn’t figure out how these people were working here…it sure looked like a bar…but I’m not sure if THEY knew that.

After the dramatization that was, getting our drinks.  We sat down and focused our attention to the stage; there was a band and 3 “belly dancers”.  All six of their eyes fixated on the 2 “intruding” white guys.  I don’t think it was in a malicious way, more like, “there’s my meal ticket out of here kind of way”.  I felt like we were the ones on display.  Usually I’m okay with being the center of attention…not this time, I felt very uncomfortable. 

The girls took turns, sometimes dancing together but they each got a song and then went to sit down in the corner with the others.  I made the mistake of clapping after one of their dances.  That didn’t help.  The song was over, she did a good job so I clapped….silence….no one else is clapping but now everyone is back to staring at us….this was going splendidly. 

Alex got up to go to the bathroom and my tequila shot kicked in.  So naturally I started talking to the people in my radius.  One lady said she liked that I had clapped, so from then on when the girls were done dancing, we both clapped.  That made me feel a little better, a little more safe I should say. 

Our Indian stripper guide

I ended up talking to another gentlemen and one of the bouncers.  They tell me that I should go on stage and dance with the girls.  I politely declined.  Telling them, “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea”.  They let me know that it’s welcomed and that all I have to do is give the girl $10 to do it…

So…wait…the girl on stage dancing…can dance for/with me…if I give her money??? 

Are we in a strip club right now!?

Yes, yes we were in a strip club right then.  So does “belly dancer = stripper”?  I thought they were just a classier version of a “dancer”.  A normal nights entertainment in these sort of countries or mostly for people with palaces I guess....I guess it is a normal nights entertainment...without...well....the "entertainment" part of it because NONE of those girls looked too incredibly excited to be there.

So you’re telling me that all those Renaissance Festivals I’ve been to over the past few years, the belly dancer show is technically STRIPPERS!?  Oh, if only rural North Carolina knew...there would be hell to pay.  Think of the children!!!

That explains everything then!  Now I know why the girls kept looking at us, because they thought we had lots of money!  They wanted us to actually buy the dances because no one else in that place was moving. 

Ah, I see, everything is so clear now!  But this is Singapore…aren’t these girls supposed to be naked?  Where are the lap dances?  Shouldn't there be a bathhouse involved here, or have I watched too much "Pirates of the Caribbean"?  Where’s the V.I.P.?  Isn’t stuff supposed to start getting wild any second now?  Where are the service monkeys? 

The guy was really cool, he pretty much gave us the heads up about everything “Singaporean strip club”(nothing like the States strip clubs and no monkeys either)….he was a regular and wanted us to have a good time, he bought us a couple of rounds of drinks (the bar staff had figured out the whole “shot” thing by then).  He told us we should come back during the weekend and it would be much busier.  Hmm, thanks but no thanks, a busier strip club is not what I need after my Casino-fiasco.

We closed the “club” down and went back to our dorm after that.  White girl wasted…hello hangover.

White Girl wasted

Asian countries multi-task

Great Ocean Road

I arrived back in Melbourne for the 2^nd time.  No can of bat repellent spray needed this time around, I’m ready.  I know where I am, I know where I need to go.  I stay at the same hostel again and have a quite night of drinking with my old buddies Patrick and Johnny O.  We play some darts and go to a bar.  It’s a Monday, I wasn’t expecting too much.  I wasn’t looking for too much either.  I just really enjoyed the company of my new/old friends.

It’s different when you run back into people you’ve met along the way.  You appreciate it more I think.  You remember the good times you had (even if it was only for a few days) but you haven’t quite learned everything about them and things always change so there are new stories and adventures to share.  It was a good time, not as fun as the first time around but a good thing all the same.

I originally planned to go straight the GOR from the start.  I had an entire route planned where I was going to sleep on the beach, save money and learn to surf when I reached Torquay (a famous surf spot in Southern Australia).  

However, all that changed when 2 of my protégés (they are NOT going to like that if they ever read this) decided to join me.  My old friend from college Alex aka Cheesey Mo decided to join me in Australia.  He had recently come into a lump sum of money tragically because his grandmother passed away.  Sometimes a negative begets a positive though and it left him a hefty inheritance or as I like to call it, “his muthaf***** movie check” (for those Jay & Silent Bob lovers out there).

Also, my Irish buddy Gavin from Philip Island decided to join us as well.  I thought the more the merrier and plus, that means splitting the car and the gas 3 ways.  You can’t go wrong with splitting the bill, I always say. So Alex’s plane came in Tuesday morning/afternoon and we had to pick him up.  I grabbed Gavin and we headed to the airport.  If you’ve read past stories involving Sir Irish of the Wonder Boys, you should also know that without the proper motivation this can be quite the chore if you’re not careful.  We’ll get to this more later.

Gavin curiously declares that we will never find him because we have no plan.  I had not talked to Alex in a week or so all I knew was when his flight was coming in.  I tell Gavin not to worry.  We do this all the time, neither of us are very hard to find.  I tell Gavin to look for a larger version of me and while betting him that we will find Mr. Lukas within 20 minutes (mainly because that’s how long we have to park where we did). 

Alex spots my beardacious face from across the terminal within 10 minutes of arriving.  We’re on our way!  Off to the GREAT OCEAN ROAD.  The GOR extends from Geelong and goes 151 miles across to Warranbool, Victoria; give or take.  It goes along the southern coast of Australia with the ocean on one side and beautiful mountains and various towns on the other.  It was breathtaking, most if not the entire ride. 

It’s one of Australia’s most popular attractions and it’s worth every single second.  There’s no way to do this trip in one go either, as we would soon learn.  There are just too many options.  There are the sights, the bushwalks, the shipwrecks, all the quaint little towns to visit.  It’s nearly impossible, even without Gavin aka “The Anchor” (because he can keep you grounded if you don’t pick him up!).  

Looks like "THE LIGHT", DON'T go into "THE LIGHT"!

We ride down to Torquay, that was our first stop.  We get out to take some pictures, to check out the beach and have some sandwiches.  I was pretty hungover when Gavin woke me up to go that morning, I tried to convince him to drive, then I let him get some practice along a back suburb street. 

“I guess I’m driving the whole way”, I reluctantly declare.  That’s abundantly clear to me now.  I’ll take in as much as I can and hope that I can keep my eyes on the road long enough to not kill us all. 

Torquay was where I wanted to spend my first night on the beach and surf in the morning but plans change obviously.  It’s now Tuesday afternoon and we have to go, there’s no time to dilly dally (believe it or not, Microsoft Word has accepted that as proper grammar, so DILLY DALLY ALL DAY BABY!).

We drove the whole day and stopped off at random places for the beautiful views.  That’s the best part when you do it by yourself instead of with a tour bus, you can stay as long as you want and visit wherever you want.  There’s no real schedule.  All we knew was that my flight was Thursday afternoon and I needed to have enough time to drive myself back to Melbourne (for my flight…and HOT LADY Thursday of course).

To be fair, we let our affection for women dictate a lot of our trip unfortunately.  Not in a sexual way, but everywhere we went we just met the coolest females and ended up staying a little longer than intended.  Our first major stop was Airey’s Inlet to see the lighthouse and master a bush walk off the cliffs.  We stopped and saw the lighthouse and ran into 2 local Australian girls who were out there for the sunset. 

"Get on that lighthouse so we can take a photo!"

We end up talking with them for awhile, convincing them to climb a part of the lighthouse for a photo opportunity.  It was pretty hilarious watching them climb around and get down.  They were good fun but we were heading in the opposite direction.  They did let us know that it was the offseason and no matter where we stayed it probably wouldn’t be too busy.  Which was fine with us, we were there for the scenery as much as anything else. 

We travelled down through Lorne and Apollo Bay, where we decided to stay the night.  It was Alex’s first time in a hostel.  It was a very cool little hostel, really quaint in the middle of nowhere.  We were planning on having a quite night in, you know, kind of like “The Dude” from “The Big Lebowski” has a quite night in just without the Kahlua. 

Aww...Alex's first hostel ever

We went out to get some cheap seafood and headed back to the hostel.  I walked into the kitchen looking for any type of condiment and met some of the other occupants.  One German girl named Romy, and 3 other Irish people named Delia, Tom and Jean.
 

They were all sharing some bottles of wine and asked us to join.  We obliged and had a few drinks.  We all know what happens when you have a few drinks with the Irish…it turns into a fountain of drinks with the Irish.  We all got along really well, trading stories along with other various interacting.  

We spent the entire evening with them just hanging around the hostel.  Tom was a police officer back in Ireland and had an uncanny ability to play the flute.  He was absolutely amazing and he would just break it out and play at random times unprovoked.  I felt like I was in “Braveheart”.  I didn’t know if I wanted to fight for my country or fall in love under a waterfall.  It was deep.

The Pied Piper himself

Delia also lent her voice to the act, she was such an amazing singer.  A bit like Adelle if you believe it to be true, she’ll tell you she smokes too much to sound as good as her if you asked.  She was very modest.  But that’s how we spent our first evening on the GOR, trading stories and singing songs with the Irish.  It was really great. 

Well, until they wanted to hear the Americans sing.  That’s when we realized to our dismay that Americans don’t have fun drinking songs or any sort of prideful tunes to sing about our heritage.  They told us to sing the “National Anthem” or “America the Beautiful”.  That wasn’t good enough compared to what we had been hearing.  So we had to decline, disgracefully. 

The "Allie Pose"

We awoke the next day and headed down the coast to another lighthouse destination in Cape Otway and the further most tip of Victoria.  We hadn’t seen any wildlife yet and we were determined.  So we found some cute girls on the side of the road instead…I think they count as wildlife anyway.  According to many, I look like a lion with this beard I have, so I’m an animal.  I’m counting them either way because that’s why we pulled off on the side of the road… 

Turns out that the reason they were off to the side was that they had seen some koalas in the trees.  So now, WE DID TOO! Finally something indigenous to the area in its own natural habitat, at last!  They were so awesome!  Some chilling and sleeping, others crawling from branch to branch looking for sustenance.  It was awesome, I was so close to one I almost could touch him.  I tried and failed, he was quite swift.

The Star of the show

We were all heading down the road to the same lighthouse; we had also caught up with our Irish friends from the previous evening.  Once we all reached the lighthouse, we found out it cost money to get onto the property.  So we all declined to venture inside but we heard about a waterfall not too far from there and asked the girls if they wanted to join us on a bushwalk. 

Our Irish friends declined, but the other girls were keen (look at my Aussie/Kiwi lingo) so we all set off.  Our goal was to see this Rainbow Falls and make it to the 12 Apostles by sunset.  The walk was a great time and a lot of fun with our new buddies.  But we never found the waterfall, we made a few wrong turns and ended up on the “Great Ocean Walk”. 

Apparently, it’s different.  A lot of people will park their cars somewhere along the GOR and actually walk most of the distance on the Great Ocean Walk.  That’s what our German friend Romy was doing anyway.  She rented a campervan (which I totally suggest as the best way to do the GOR) and would park it outside wherever she was staying and walk as far as she could.  You get the most spectacular views that way.  It’s obviously more draining physically but mentally it’s exceptionally stimulating. 

We got lost for a few hours out in the walk and tried to make our way back.  We parted ways because they were heading back towards Lorne where we had just come from.  

Trust me, we did consider going back with them because we knew the sunset at Apollo was going to be out of reach at this point.  But we didn’t have camping equipment and they were going to find a waterfall to camp out for the night (how much more awesome could this story have gotten with that backdrop!?...nevermind).

We hop in the car and start racing to the 12 apostles, desperately clinging to any wonder that we may make it in time for sunset.  Ricky Bobby likes to go fast.  Ricky Bobby just goes around in a circle.  I like to go fast down the GOR, much more enthralling (I mean it’s not like having a cougar in the car or anything but it’s exciting!).

How fast was I flying?  I don’t know but I did just recently get 2 speeding tickets sent to me in the mail.  We weren’t stopped or anything but Australia enjoys putting up speed cameras in the most inane places.  I wasn’t even mad really.  I treated the GOR like my own personal go-kart track.  There were so many turns and I was flying though them all. 

All while trying to make a phone call to find out why my hostel had just kicked me and roommates out of our room.  Not exactly the message you want to receive on your vacation.  My friend Joe called me and left a message, “Hey man, they’re turning our room into a private room so they’re moving us all out, where do you want your stuff?”  Do what now?  Sorry…that’s no bueno. 

So I’m sure Alex and Gavin were terrified with me whipping the car back and forth and trying frantically to find out why I was being kicked out of the room I’d been living in for 3 months.  It all worked out in the end so I won’t bore you with those details.

We never made it there by sunset needless to say.  We stopped and checked it out on top of the mountain where there was a massive forest fire going on behind us.  I say that casually like it was no big deal but I’ve seen a lot in my day and unfortunately my capacity for things that surprise me has increased each destination I travel to.  You can add random forest fire to the list.  

We arrive in Port Campbell just as night fell across the ocean.  It was very quiet and wholesome town, we checked into the hostel.  I ran into one of my French friends Estelle there, she had recently moved from Sydney.  Random once again!  I love these things, I knew she had moved to Melbourne but what were the odds that she chose to do the GOR, show up at the same hostel, at the same time as me??? 

We also found out our Irish friends were staying with us yet again!  We all decide to bunk up with one another to make the transition a bit easier.  They were a bit hungover still from the previous night so unfortunately they decided to take it easy and hang in.

We had no such plan.  We went to get food and all around Port Campbell was closing.  The staff at the restaurant were hanging out afterwards waiting for us to finish, so naturally we invited them over for beers with us.  We chatted for a little while and they returned our kindness by inviting us to their local pub for a few more drinks.  

As we walk in, all eyes immediately are directed at us.  Well, probably directed at Gavin’s scarf.  We told him to take it off because he looked like a homo, the bar patrons agreed.  Even when he ordered some beers the bartender gave him a Shirley temple instead.  Classic.

Everyone is having a good time, I can’t remember any of their names but they said we were more than welcome back anytime.  It’s a small town and I WILL do the GOR at least one more time in my lifetime, so I plan to take them up on their offer, sort of.    

Then we meet another guy who worked at the restaurant, his background is unimportant, his story is tremendous.  We were talking about allergies and drinking (why?).  When he breaks out this golden nugget of information that apparently you shouldn’t eat peanuts and drink because you never know who’s allergic to them. 

“What do you mean?”, we all inquire at the same time.

Well, about a year or so ago the guy had eaten some peanuts while out drinking one night and then took a girl home with a peanut allergy.  The story goes, they did the deed and when to sleep.  One of them woke up.  That’s it!

That’s right, he killed her!  She had a heartattack right there in the bed laying beside him.  He said he was in mourning for months.  The towns people thought of him as a murderer, giving him ugly looks and begrudging tones.  He said it was a terrible time in his life, but he has since learned to deal with it and it is somewhat of a joke around town now. 

Alex can’t get enough of this story, “Dude, you f****d her to death”, he hissed at the guy.  I think that made the guy feel better about this personal tragedy.  I was completely mortified.  I always put myself in other people’s shoes and I had nothing on this. 

What do you do if you wake up after having sex and the other person isn’t alive anymore? 

Short answer, take a shower and cry in the fetal position maybe.  I have no idea, I don’t know.  I got nothing for you.  I think that's one of those things that you hope NEVER happens to you, like, having to wipe with your non-dominant hand...it's just really uncomfortable.  Okay, maybe someone dying next to you is a little more severe...

Either way he seemed in good spirits about it.  The girl had been on vacation and he only knew her that night, so it wasn’t a great loss to him.  But still.  Alex, singing at this point, “You f****d her so good she died, now I have a standard to live up to!”.  No one ever said Alex was the sentimental type. 

The 7? Apostles

We headed back “early” because since we missed the 12 apostle sunset, so we were determined to see it at sunrise.  Which we did successfully, probably the only part of the trip we planned well in our timing.  It was a beautiful setting.  There used to be 12 apostles but they keep falling so now there is only 7 or so.  There was also “London Bridge” which a man told me the story of how some people were out on the ledge that the “London Bridge” leads out to and then “London Bridge” literally fell down. 

Like the nursery rhyme!  How great is that?  I laughed, he didn’t think it was so funny, no one was hurt but they did have to get a helicopter to come and get them off the rock.  So if anyone ever asks, yes, “London Bridge” did actually fall down.  You heard it here first.

Afterwards it was time to go.  I had only a few hours to drive back and get on my flight so we took off the other way back to Melbourne.  The less scenic of the 2 but the quickest, just as we were taking off Gavin got a phone call. 

He had been trying to get passes to “work” the Apollo Bay Music Festival.  I say “work”, and I guess it is, but really all he does is go to free concerts, meet the bands and take profile pictures of the event and the participants, then transfers them to his website or sells them to various outlets.  Not a bad gig right?  Do the words on this page come off as jealous, they should.  I am a tad bit. 

Alex decided that he also wanted to go.  Gavin convinced the guy in charge to bring him on as well and they received full access passes to the festival for photography purposes. 

Here I am, driving back to work, if I told you I didn’t think about quitting my job and going with them, I’d be lying.  But I am somewhat noble and loyal, especially to Zanzibar because they’ve been so good to me in the past and present.  So I dropped them off and wish them luck.

They had to hitchhike all the way back to Apollo Bay, I left them sitting in a park with all of their stuff, like hobos.  Here’s their quintessential hobo picture:

Couple of Homos...errr...I mean Hobos

I was a little jealous and surprised that Alex went.  He had only been in the country for 3 days and already had such an amazing story to tell and more adventures to follow.  I found out that they did make it there safely and had a great time.  As for me, I made my flight and went back to work in Sydney.  Sometimes things work out that way, these are the decisions we have to mae and for once, I made the responsible choice.  Go figure.

THIS GUY!

Koala Party

Horse's DO in fact, like milkshakes

Our Aussie Companions

Great Ocean Walk

Just a really rad picture of myself :)

Melbourne Trip #1: The City

Home @ The Mansion

I left Philip Island without any real clue about where I would stay once I reached Melbourne.  I used Gavin's Iphone to research some cheap hostels.  I chose a place aptly named "Home at the Mansion" simply because it was in between the 2 streets that my friends in Sydney had named for me to check out.  I'm a man of simple luxuries (aka I don't like to pay for rides when I can walk or get there myself) so it made my decision much easier.

We arrive at “Home” and the place is huge.  It used to be a hospital or something.  Everything in Melbourne isn’t what it used to be.  It’s hard to keep up.  It’s 4 stories high with a great winding staircase like something out of “Beauty & The Beast”…wait, what? 

Guys aren't supposed to reference, quote, or watch Disney movies?  Noted.  Let’s move on.  You know where I’m coming from.

I checked in and went to make myself something to eat.  The hostel itself is a lot like the place I lived in Sydney, as in, there were a lot of “long-termers” there.  So usually in places of this nature it takes a little bit more effort to crack the proverbial ice.  Everyone is already in their own clicks so to speak and everyone already knows each other at this point and new faces aren’t always as welcome at first to some degree.  It's still a hostel but not everyone in hostels are looking to make friends or connections all the time. 

Cool buildings all over Melbourne

I circle around and look for new people to meet.  I go outside, no dice.  I try the kitchen, nope.  I go back outside another time with my box of “Goon” and decide that I’m just going to start drinking.  Damn it all.  If I can’t find new people to hang out with, them I’m just going to drink and go out on my own (I'm brave like that). 

Of course, that’s when you start meeting new people!  The second time I go back outside I struck up a conversation with a guy named Patrick and a German guy named Nicolas.  They like to smoke weed, a lot.  Not to be confused here, I used to, a lot.  But I also quit. 

I quit because of 3 reasons. 

1)  It made me very unproductive (like not starting the blog I’ve had in my head for 5 years, going to a REAL college, finding a REAL job, you know…stuff like that) I’m 26 years old now, I got shit to do.  

2) It made me doubt myself and my choices, I don't like that...because as you all should know by now...I'm RIGHT, ALL THE TIME (or so I tell myself).  So I can't have any clouded judgements on future or previous experiences.  

3) Movies.  I can't tell you how many movies I've watched when I was high and couldn't remember a single thing about it afterwards.  The best is when people ask you later if you've seen it, you say yes; and then can't recall any of the plots points, jokes, or twists that made the movie great....but I digress...

That’s neither here nor there.  The point is, with my long hair and beard everywhere I go that’s generally the topic of conversation.  I get accosted by people wanting to sell me drugs constantly.  It just comes with the territory of the hippy appearance I guess. 

Not to mention, in Australia, they also mix there “joints” half tobacco, half marijuana.  I’m not really down with that, so it made quitting a lot easier for me.  I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my life, so it’s not really a matter of “want” to me anymore because the fact is, I actually DON’T want it...but enough of this off subject tangent (my apologies).

I meet some of the local backpackers and they bring me into their assortment of a crew.  I spent the next 3 days hanging out with that same crew coincidentally.  Patrick, Nicolas, Elise, and a lot of other backpackers that I really can't remember and will probably never see again.  They can be your best friend for 2 days or 2 weeks but if you forget to get their details, you may never see them again.  So I guess by most standards that's not really a crew.   As vicious as a cycle as that can be, to a traveler it is, they're your crew until you split up.  Nevermind.  

The first night we went out was a Tuesday, I convinced everyone that we needed to go to Chinatown and find “The Croft Institue”.  It was one of my destinations on the list and it sounded really cool because it used to be a mental institution that was turned into a bar.  Little did I know at the time, it actually came with inmates…but I’ll get to that later.

It took a little convincing because most backpackers tend to be poor and usually aren’t willing to go out to places they don’t know have some sort of cheap drink specials.  We fill up our water bottles with “Goon” and off we go….

P.S. I will explain exactly what “Goon” is and what it means when I get to the Wednesday night portion of this entry. 

The first place we come to is a bar that I have no recollection of.  They wouldn’t let me in.  I was drunk and forgot that I had a water bottle full of "Goon" with me as I tried to walk in.  They also wanted me to pay an entry fee….I don’t do that….I haven’t done that since I turned 21 way back in 1972...and if you don’t have a band, I’m DEFINITELY not paying to get in, simple as that.

Marley & Me fightin' over some "Goon"

So one of the Swedish girls, Marlieke and I sit outside and finish our Goon in front of the bar with defiance!  Once the others came out and told us that Heinikens were $16, I told the bouncers I’m glad I didn’t come in and then I “passively” take another swig of my illegal street beverage and meander down the street.

Long story short, we get lost and spend more time than we should looking for this place.  But as all great places in Melbourne, it was located down a dark back alley that you wouldn’t find if you didn’t know about it to begin with.  Somehow we stumble across the alleyway anyway. 

We walk down this dark corridor with graffiti all over the walls as it begins to rain.  It was like a bad movie, like a bad 80's movie.  There’s a guy yelling at me from a bench as we’re about to go in, I pay him no mind.  He paid me a lot more…he followed us inside. 

The Croft Institute

We get in and it’s exactly as predicted.  The walls are that tiled sea green color that makes you want to shiver because you feel as if something bad is soon to come.  There are glass beakers and prodding instruments placed all over as the rooms decorum.  We walk straight up to the bar and order a few drinks.  The drinks are a bit pricey for the “Homeys”, they begin to fill out one by one. 

The bartender was extremely talented at his craft.  He took everything very seriously and everything he did was with exact precision.  Even to the point of simply putting ice in the cup.  He would put the ice in the cup, turn to mix other ingridients/chop various fruits and then pour out the smallest of condensation from that ice before inserting the remaining ingredients of the drink.  That felt weird writing so I'm hoping you followed, if not, just know it was the smallest of details that he paid the most attention to.  It seemed unnecessary to me but that’s why he’s won countless of bartending awards and I haven’t.  I also drink the easiest thing on the planet to make, bourbon & water/on the rocks...so there you go.

This starts his friend off on a drunken tirade about how great his "friend" the bartender is.  The bartender himself was quite shy and wanted his friend to shut up, he was nice enough to keep him around because the guy should have been cut off hours ago.  

Who is this guy???  Nobody, just the guy that was outside yelling at me in the alleyway; oh, and did I mention yet that this guy didn’t have nose.  HE DIDN’T HAVE A NOSE!!!

Like, it just wasn’t there.  There was a hole in his face where there was supposed to be a nose and he didn’t have it!!!  As my luck goes, all this guy wants to do…is talk to me.  Dammit.  And wouldn’t you believe the irony…of a guy with no nose…being nosey!

He was all-in my business, once he found out I was American it was all over.  After that nothing negligible came out of his mouth.  Apparently "Americans are trying to be like Australia", "what am I doing here?", blah blah blah…dude, you don’t have a freaking NOSE!!!!  What are you supposed to do with that???

It was like a train wreck, I couldn’t look away but the last thing in the world I wanted to see was the black space in the middle of his face WHERE HIS NOSE IS SUPPOSED TO BE!!! (I can’t stress this enough, I was freaking out). 

I also didn’t want to be rude.  

Not all graffiti is poorly done

Sometimes I put myself in other people’s shoes, why?  I don’t know, it just always makes me sympathize with them and where they are coming from I guess.  Then I do stuff I don’t want to do because it’s the “right thing” (bleeehhh).  So I continued speaking to him.  But I’m looking at this guy and my heart went out to him.  I said to myself, “who else is talking to this guy?”.  the answer: Nobody. 

I wouldn’t say it was out of pity, maybe a little I guess.  Not that I'm any hero or hidden gem that people should be honored to talk to or anything but no one else would even look at the guy.  It didn’t help that he was completely shitfaced and yelling either.  Seriously though, the guy had some balls.  I would be so self conscious about that; I don’t know if I could go out to bars missing a fairly intregal part of my face.  If you don't have something on your face, people are going to notice.  You’re not approaching any chicks without a nose, sorry, it’s just not happening.  I felt bad so I stayed. 

My Swedish girl was not as sympathetic, she dipped out and I didn’t even see her leave….there goes that pipe dream (get it? Pipe…dream…yeah, you get it). 

I talk the guy off his high horse and he buys us (me & him) a few rounds of Chatreuse shots.  I have a knack for changing negative views on Americans I’ve come to realize.  I took the shots, the bartender FINALLY cut the dude off and then we left.  He wanted us to come back to his apartment but that was giant NOOOO….SSSEEE.

I wake up Wednesday and convince my other American roommate to forgo all of her responsibilities and come explore Melbourne with me.  I’m a bad news bear.  I do this so much I should get paid.  Chicks dig cars, I had a rental car.  I’m pretty sure that swayed it in my favor, probably because she told me it did.  Whatever, I'm awesome, that's how we'll describe that.

The car however, did not work out as planned because traffic in Melbourne is a bitch and parking is even worse.  We were in the car for maybe 5 blocks totalling1 hour of driving.  We decide to take our venture out on foot.  We meet up with Gavin and out for a couple of day drinks.  We found a rooftop bar where I began to realize that in Melbourne, I am completely underdressed…everywhere we went.  I love it though, not sure Elise shared my enthusiasm for center stage. 

We get a couple of the other backpackers to come and meet us up for drinks and pizzas and then we headed off back to the hostel.  The “Home” hostel has theme nights to get everyone involved and interacting with one another, or just get every s#*@ faced, which ever comes first.  Wednesday night is their “Wine & Cheese” party. 

Sounds fancy right?  

Hello sweet pillow

Now is the perfect opportunity to explain the term “Goon”.  “Goon” is basically boxed wine, like Franzia in the US.  The lowest of the low, the cheapest possible drink to buy in Australia, it’s literally $12 for 4 liters of just foul tasting “wine”.  The best part about most “Goon” boxes, is that the boxes themselves don’t actually say the word “wine” anywhere on it!  They do admit that there are "fish-eggs" involved in the making however so there's that.  The term, “Goon” is derived from the aboriginal word that means “pillow”.  So the idea here, is you drink the bag of "wine" that is in the box and then blow it up as a pillow and sleep on it!  How great is that??? 

So what was thought to be a “Wine & Cheese” party turned out to be a party where they set out 4 boxes of “Goon” on the table with sliced cheese and crackers…the type of cheese you ask?  “Coon”, that’s the brand name of the cheapest cheese in Australia.  So our "elegant" wine and cheese party quickly dispatched into the “Goon & Coon” show.  

Not that this bothered any of us at all.  Free wine and cheese is always welcome.  We spent a few hours being “classy” at the backpackers and then we set off to the place Johnny O wanted to go.  They had cheap jugs of beer for backpackers on Wednesday night and oddly enough he was the only one who knew how to get there...or remembered rather.  

So we all set out following Johnny O,  probably 20 of us in total.  We reach the bar and it’s not nearly as packed as I thought it would be on a special backpackers night.  But the booze is cheap and pool tables are free so I’m content.  Johnny O and I run to the tables and start scamming free drinks from any and all takers.  Not that I’m a shark or anything.  I’d say dolphin, I’m good, you just have to keep my attention to the table and make sure I’m buzzed a bit.  I may call Oxford for a new definition, I'll keep you posted.  

The backpackers start filing out, while Johnny and I stayed until the end.  The bar turned into a nightclub the later it got so we made our way to the dance floor and danced with everyone, or nobody in particular, depending on the whatever rate of success you consider acceptable. 

Usually when I get drunk I like to go off and do my own thing.  I’m the predator here.  I see something I want I go get it.  Drinks, girls, doesn’t matter.  I’m a loner in these situations, I just like to see what I can get myself into.  Tonight was different, I tried to walk off (happened several times out of habit) and realized that I had no idea where I was, or how to get home.  So I’d go find Johnny O.  My one goal was to keep a tab on Johnny’s whereabouts all night because he was getting me back to our place, well that and he is generally a cool guy to be around. 

The tab is usually an easy task, but I didn’t know Johnny that well.  Friends will wait for you, friends will even look for you.  Friendly acquaintances you just met the day previous may or may not forget you even came with them.  It’s an old shaky wooden bridge, that situation…and the wind is blowing. 

They run Trams, not buses

We make it out together however,  we hit up McDonalds on the way and I either get praised or cursed out by 3 Spanish chicks.  I can never tell because the language itself sounds like they are yelling at you, always.  So I yell back at them, I tell her I know what she said…I have no idea what she said, I’m not even sure why I’m allowed to talk anymore. 

I think instead of those breathalyzers they give you in cars when you get a DUI, they should give you some sort of device that after a certain level of blood alcohol content is surpassed whatever you say after 4am should either be silenced completely, or recreated into something more pleasant.  Like when people who snore get those masks that turns their snore into the sound of the ocean or the jungle.  Things like that. 

GOD, how am I not rich yet???  Can I find someone with some sort of technology know-how and construction capabilities here???  Jeez man, all these great ideas…I’m wasting away here!

Anyways, the Spanish chicks didn’t end up dancing with us in the streets but they didn’t end up stabbing us when we saw them later at McDonald’s either…so I’ll chalk it up as a win.  Johnny and I made it back successfully. 

The next thing I know I’m getting kicked out of the hostel at 10am.  I got in 4 hours previous and was in no mood for it.  I knew I had to be out by 10 but I like to play the “Silly American” card whenever I can.  

The “Silly American” card is when you do something you know is wrong and then just blame the fact that you are by trait a “Silly American”. 

“Oh, you need a ticket for this train???  

- I'm sorry, I didn't know, where do I get that? (Silly American)

“Oh, I need to check out by 10am??? 

- I had no idea, I’m sorry” (Silly American)

“Only girls can dance on the stage??? 

-Really!? It’s different in America I didn’t know the rules…(Silly American)

It's just a lie basically.  However, you'd be surprised how dumb other countries think we are, so you get a free pass.  There's a slight bit of shame involved, but there's also no trouble to come of it.  

You break minor rules here and codes of conduct there and play your “Get out of jail free card” because the rules are “different” in your country.  They have no idea, it’s a jedi-mind trick of sorts and 75% of the time…it works…everytime.

Either way I obliged, I collect my things and leave the hostel.  I had to pick up Gavin who needed help moving to his new place. I still had the rental car and my plane back to Sydney wasn’t for a couple of hours.

Oh you fancy huh?

We got him moved in and we went to a place downtown called “Madame Brussells”.  Which I thought was a whorehouse…or at the very least a titty-bar.  No dice.  Madame Brussells is a rooftop cocktail establishment where all the ladies working there are decked out in sexy tennis apparel. 

Novel idea, not so novel were the girls who were working there, they need to step that up.  Good drinks though, bit pricey, but all of Melbourne is so you roll with the punches, just like you expect to be underdressed and judged to a slight degree everywhere you go.  It comes with the territory.   

We split up after that and I went to the bus station admiring “Hot Lady Thursday” in Melbourne.  It’s every single Thursday I’ve been there.  Not lying.  Heads on a swivel constantly; young, older business types, cougars, you name it.  It’s incredible.  I got 5 full blocks of amazing & visually stimulating company. 

Melbourne is a splendid city.  I have no complaints.  Very classy, with lots of views, cool buildings and fun people.  If it weren't so far south and so cold, I would probably try to live there but who knows, maybe I'll try that out when I come back...on my Student Visa.... ;)

HELLOOOO Melbourne University!

 PS: Yes, I realize that most of the pictures in this story do not reflect the story itself.  However, I have 3 arguments for my defense in this particular case.


1) Sometimes I get drunk and forget to take pictures of important outings, people, and things.  


2) Sometimes I get drunk and forget my camera all together.


3) Did you really want a picture of the guy without the nose!?  Didn't think so, so you got some cool grafitti instead...


YOU'RE WELCOME.