Monday the 5th of March was a slow and boring day. I watched Little Women, something I'd always meant to do but never did, and was pleasantly surprised to find Claire Danes in it. I do love her, I think she's fantastic. I also watched the entirity of Treasure Planet, and thought I could hear Emma Thompson voicing the Captain. I checked the credits when they rolled, and I was totally right. I am bawss.
Wendy had two massage clients that night, so Geoff and I didn't see her till around 9:30pm. In the four or so hours we had, we watched the new episode of The Big Bang Theory (a must-watch for all of us), had a nice dinner of roast potatoes and parmagiana, and watched the new How I Met Your Mother, a must-see for Geoff and Wendy. I do think it's funny, but I prefer Friends and Big Bang.
Poor Wendy was shattered. She had super achey arms after Go-Karting, so to have two massages on top of a horrible day at work, I can't imagine how much fun she was having. But I'm willing to bet it wasn't a lot.
I had achey thighs, Geoff had a really really bad back, and Wendy had achey arms. Go-Karting is good and all, but apparently you do have to pay the repurcussions the next day. Be warned.
Tuesday I started applying for more jobs online. I felt better abot my resume now that I had my RSA certificate, but it didn't garuantee me a job. I really was having a lot of trouble finding things I could apply for. Most places want experienced people for the convenience of not having to train them, and unfortunately that wasn't me at the time.
After getting despondent about the lack of options, I started watching Wendy's boxset of How I Met Your Mother. I figure that if we're going to watch the new episodes every week, I should catch up. Unfortunately they're like on Season 7 or something at the moment, so I had a Hell of a lot of catching up to do.
Wendy and Geoff got home eventually, which was good for me as there's only so much Barney Stenson one can take in one day. Wendy had free movie vouchers that needed to be used up by the end of March, so we decided to go and see Hugo in the cinema. It's stars the boy off of Merlin back in the UK, the one that plays Modred in the first series. I didn't like the brat then, and I don't like him now. There's just something about him that I dislike, but I can't put my finger on it.
Well the film is about an orphan who lives in a clock in a train station in France, fixing a robot that draws pictures when wound up... as you do. Then it revolves around this old guy who turns out to be a famous film maker from before the War, whom everyone had thought had died. This little brat teaches the cold unfeeling man how to experience joy again, blah blah blah, happy ending. Yay.
So it wasn't the best movie I'd ever seen.
One thing that did amuse me was that before the film started we were sitting in our seats, and I was casually talking to Wendy. There was a little girl with her parents in the row in front of us, and she was intently listening to me speak. I don't know how long she was listening, but she figured out I was English. She turned to her mother and said something, and I heard her mother say "No, I'm Scottish. Scottish people hate English people."
I couldn't help but stare incredulously at this woman. Then Wendy just looked at me, and we had a quiet giggle, and I said quietly "The feeling is mutual, don't worry. Andy Murray, for example. When he wins, he's British. But when he loses, he's totally Scottish." To which we had another quiet laugh.
I don't know what was with the kid, but she kept staring at me until the film started. It was a tad unnerving.
On Wednesday, Wendy wasn't feeling too well so didn't go to work. Whilst this wasn't a good thing, I greatly enjoyed having her company. After she went to the doctors, who just said You're very stressed, you need to rest she decided to get some fresh air, so we took the dogs to the Retarding Basin again for a semi-long walk. Wendy doesn't do 'rest' very well.
Not to mention that Rob and Rory were coming over for dinner that night as well. We went and bought many jacket potatoes (a solid favourite meal of mine) for that evening, and just generally hng out for the day.
I did find out that I had a reply from Candy Kids, a photography centre which I'd applied for a receptionist's job at. It read something along the lines of We're conducting interviews tomorrow morning, if you can make it please let us know. Which was fab news.
Only thing is, it was sent the day before. And I hadn't checked my mail after coming home from the cinema. So, I had missed the interviews. Wasn't that just my luck?
So I mailed them saying I was sorry, but if anythig came up in the future I'd appreciate being considered again, and left it at that. Just bad luck.
That evening, Rob, Rory, and Rory's sort-of-but-not-really girlfriend and her kids came over for dinner. The eldest kid was so enamoured with Wendy, it was pretty annoying. I mean, I know I'm the same to a degree, but every single sentence that came out of her mouth started with "Vindee, Vindee, Vindee" (she's only like four or something so can't say Wendy's name properly). It's a good thing that Wendy's good with kids - I don't think I would have been able to put up with that all night. At one point Wendy went to the bathroom, so the kid turned to me. I started fearing for my life. And then she did it - she asked me what my name was.
I mean, I wasn't going to tell her my name. I didn't have Wendy's mental strength, or brave character; I couldn't handle it if this kid started calling to me like she had to her. And so, I said that I didn't have a name. My parents were very cruel to me when I was born and had neglected to name their youngest child, and - oh, woe is me, for I live my life with no name!
Needless to say, she looked at me like I was crazy, and she didn't talk to me for the rest of the evening. Result.
It was nice to catch up with my other cousins again though. Rob is a music guru, so he always knows lots of cool facts about bands that are older than Audrey Hepburn movies. His whole house is just a massive collection of dvds, videos, cds and records. He said that he even had a record which was so rare, or old, or something, that it was worth $700. He'd be a millionare or something if he sold off his whole collection, I reckon.
Rory's pretty awesome too. Not only does he have an awesome name, but he's down to Earth and easy to get on with so the whole meal conversations were easy as.
I was also hailed for choosing baked potato for dinner, so that was fine with me.
After they left, I checked my mail again. I'd had a reply from Candy Kids, saying that the emails were sent by mistake the previous day, and that they were actually being held on Thursday, and would I like to go?
Well, yes please, that would be lovely. I'd love to have a job. An uplifting end to the day.
So the next day, Thursday the 8th of March, I suited up, got on a train and made the hour and fifteen minute journey to Seddon. It's a long journey, and I was nervous, so it seemed even longer. There's also not much you can do on a train other than read and listen to music. Seeing as I had nothing to read, I had to do the other. I've long given up caring if people see me lip-syncing one song after another. I don't care if I look like a fish out of water. I can ignore the weird looks. Because, dammit, I'm on a train for over an hour, and I'm fricking bored.
So that's what I did, all the way to Seddon. I found Candy Kids, but apparently the boss wasn't there yet so I had to wait for a while. When she did show up, I was led into a small room where she told me what I'd be doing, and it wasn't what I'd expected.
The ad said Receptionist/Administration, so naturally I assumed that's what my role would be. But no. False advertising. They actually wanted a telemarketing person. I'd be calling people and asking how they enjoyed their 'Candy Kids experience' and trying to get them to come into the studio for a family photoshoot.
I was given a script to read over and learn, and I'd have a trial day on Tuesday. She asked if I had any questions, which I didn't, and I went on my way. Right next door to a coffee shop, where I changed into more comfortable clothes, ordered a parmagiana, and mulled around for an hour.
If they wanted a callsperson, why didn't they advertise as such? Why say it's Reception/Administration when it clearly isn't? I don't know, but it irritated me. So I mulled it over whilst munching my parmagiana, read through my script and gave Wendy a call to let her know how it went. I'd been there an hour when the boss-woman who'd interviewed me turned up for her lunch, and I thought rather than sit there awkwardly, I'd get a train back into the city.
I'm pretty sure that it wouldn't have made a good impression for the job-candidate to go next door and change clothes as soon as the interview was over, but I tried not to let that bother me.
I had another reason for being in the city that day - I was to take a short course in how to prepare and serve Espresso coffee, like they do in Costa and Starbucks. That wasn't till three-thirty, and it was only twelve-thirty when I got to Flinders St. So I went and found another coffee shop, got out my notebook, and started writing a story for two hours or so, with two mochas helping along. Just as I went to leave, a woman on another table spotted my tattoo and wanted to ask me where I got it, nad how much, and Oh, that's lovely. I love lizards and geckos, I couldn't let you leave without saying anything, so I sat at her table for a while, answering her questions and having a nice chat with a random stranger. People in Aus are just so friendly.
In the end I did have to get going, though. Even then, I was five-ten minutes late for the course. It was done by the same guy who did my RSA one, which was cool. It gave me confidence that I would have no trouble with this one either.
That day I learnt to make capuccinos and lattes. The only difference between the two is how you pour the milk in. How weird is that? I never knew that. I was also shown how to make mochas, long blacks, short whites etc.
It was only a three hour course, but it was good fun, and gives me another thingy to add to my resume, to make me look more awesomer than I already am. The dude doing the courese also made nice comments about my tattoo too, which is always lovely to hear.
My Friday consisted of not much. The most exciting things that happened were Will being taken to the vets to have his private bits lopped off (poor little bugger), and Wendy, Geoff and I shoving a double mattress into the back of a four-by-four in preparation for our awesome road trip the next day.
So, Saturday! The 10th of March. A very very cool day. No, a very very Awesome day. And yes, that's a capital A. Just to illustrate how awesome awesome can be. We left at around 10AM, and had a five-hour drive ahead of us. Where were we going, you may ask? The Great Ocean Road, of course. One of the most scenicy scenic drives you will ever go on in your entire life. The road hugs the coastline so hard that it follows the curve of the mountains, and doesn't cut through them. There are rock pools and golden beaches around every corner, gorgeous patches of green bush lining the road, and the sea - oh my days, that sea. It was just so blue. I've never seen anything like it. Ever corner we rounded, I'd say Look, look! The sea, look how blue it is! like some kind of parrot stuck on repeat. I couldn't help it though, it really was just so magnificently cerulean. I'm telling you, Australian's don't truly appreciate what they have. It was glorious.
We had Wendy's iPod on the drive up there. I got introduced to the real Baby Got Back, not the pony version I know (Baby Got Flank), which was interesting. Songs from Burlesque, songs from the 90's, 80's, pop, soft rock, easy listening, pretty much everything awesome. Apart from Florence and the Machine; I skipped them. Sorry, Florence lovers. She still doesn't float my boat.
Since we had Wendy's music on the way up, I threatened/promised that we would have my music on the way back down. I felt kind of sorry for her, but I'd gone quite a while without listening to my Pony album.
There were tonnes of photo opportunities whilst we cruised up the Road. When rounding a corner, I'd poke my head out of the window and take a shot just above the metal barriers. Of course, somehow I managed to take it precisely when a great big yellow arrow was on the barrier, and it was square in the middle of my shot. I think the God of Cameras was having a real laugh that day, cause it happened to me twice more. One day, I'll get him back.
So eventually, we arrived at this place where the Twelve Apostles stand. These are humongous rocks standing incredibly tall in the ocean, a very very very large natural phenomnom. And they are truly magnificent. I mean, in England we have Old Harry down in Torquay or wherever it is, but these are a bazillion times larger and prettier. To think about how large the caves must have been before they became stacks, it's just insane. Big enough to fit giants, I'm happy to say :) (I've also noticed I'm saying truly a lot in this blog...)
Thing is, the Apostles are completely unmanaged. As such, the water erosion has made quite a few of them fall into the sea already. So where there once were twelve, there are now like seven or eight. The sea is a mighty beast, and takes no prisoners.
After gawking at the Apostles, we went down Gibson's Steps, which leads to a gorgeous white-sandy beach. The sun had decided to grace us with its presence when we reahed the Apostles, and it was shining gayly for us for the rest of the day. Wendy and I had fun chasing each other on a beach and taking silly photos. The waves were exceptionally high that day, and we nearly got bowled over when we were posing for one in the sea. My jeans still weren't dry when we got home the next day.
We made our way to Port Cambell, which for some unknown reason I always want to say as Port Chamberpot. We lounged on the grass overlooking a small beach for a while, before I decided to go get changed into non-wet trousers. We bought a Magnum each from the post office, along with some postcards, camera batteries, and a pack of Uno cards. We sat on the grass for a bit more, I wrote my cards and a letter to my mum, and a bit more of my story I started the other day in the coffee shop.
We had dinner in Port Chamberpot that night. I had chicken schnitzel, and Wendy had a parmagiana. They're so genorous with their portion-sizes in Aus - they lay the schnitzel/parma on top of everything else on the plate because it's so fricking huge. So you're always going to be well fed, as long asyou like chicken. Lucky for me then, eh?
We wanted to find a place to camp before the sun set, so we got in the car and went for a drive. Because it was a long weekend due to a bank holiday, all of the accomodation places were completely booked out. Thus, we shoved a mattress into a car and were going to sleep on that instead. Wendy was apologetic that we wouldn't have proper beds, but I thought it was fantastic. It was a proper little adventure - I mean, how often do yo get to sleep in the back of a Landrover in the middle of nowhere? It was truly immense.
We found a track off of the main road not too far from Port Chamberpot, which had a clear 'No Overnight Camping' sticker on a post, but we decided to ignore it and settle there for the night.
There was a circular clearing at the end of the track, where we parked the Landie. I went exploring in the surrounding bush for a while, taking awesome photos of me, and a few of the nice scenery. But mainly of me. I was out there for half an hour maybe more, before I realised that there was a very real chance I could get swiped by a snake lurking in the bush, and with my surfer shorts on, it wouldn't be difficult to sink in those fangs. After that wake up call, I hurried back to the Rover where Wendy was casually sitting on the roof.
We scurried into our jammies, and it was very weird getting changed in the wide open outdoors, I can tell you. We stumbled onto the mattress, which there is kind of an art to - grab the roof, jump, haul your legs up, and slide in. Played a few games of Uno (I am self-decared Uno God), and found that there is a 1/5 chance that my opponent will win. I am four fifths awesome.
Eventually the sun set and the stars came out. I spotted the Southern Cross and the Saucepan, but they're about all I know so far. I need to take a course in being an astrologer or something. That would be cool.
I looked out the window at one point and saw an orange glow on the horizon. I thought Huh, that's weird. I didn't think we were near a city, and rolled over to settle down to sleep. For some reason I re-rolled back a few minutes later, and found that it wasn't city lights at all - it was the moon. The moon was orange. And I'm not sure how, or why, but it was. I've never seen anything like it, it was surreal.
I was up before the sun on Sunday. I was disappointed in myself, but I was too cold to sleep any more. It was absolutely freezing, and I'd gone to bed without socks or a hoodie on, the fool that I am. So I hustled Wendy awake, and she drove us back to Port Chamberpot, with me rolling around on the mattress in the back the entire way. That was a fun way to start the morning.
We got dressed in the public bathrooms (classy as ever) and had breakfast at a little cafe thingy. Now, why oh why, do cafe's feel the need to fancify things? All I wanted was beans on toast. Beans from a tin, on bread from a supermarket, toasted. That's it.
Instead what I got was home grown kidney-bean-type-things in their own weird tomato puree-sauce-crap-thing full of onions and shiz. I mean, why? That's not beans on toast, that's an abomination. I ate the bread but couldn't eat the rest, so I pushed it aside. And when the woman came to take our plates, I told her that I didn't wish to seem ungrateful, but I was allergic to onions (I'm totally not).
She replied with a Oh, shit under her breath. Then went on to tell me that I should always ask if things have onions in it, for my own safety. But I mean seriously, when ordering beans on toast, one should not need to ask if there's any onions in it.
But I might start telling restaurants that I am allergic to the vile things. Seems like it'd be a great way to avoid them.
Wendy decided to go back to Rowville a different way to which we came up. We went via something called the Otway Tree Walk, a place situated in a forest, with metal walkways constructed around the tree-line. It was quite cool, and got rather high up at times. Best of all, it would be totally accessible for people in wheelchairs, which is a nice thought.
The best bit about it though, was the section with replica dinosaurs in it. And, blatently ignoring the 'Please do not sit or climb on the dinosaurs' sign that was there, I sat on a stegosaurus, triceratops, and a few velociraptors, and Wendy held a pterodactyl high up in the air. I said that I was pterrified, but I don't know how funny she found it. I thought it was hilarious, but then again I laugh at the jokes on Penguin wrappers.
So after that was the real drive home. Despite being a longer route in Kms, it was on straight roads so took us less time. And yes, I did play my Pony album. And I'm still not sure what Wendy thought of it. An awesome track I have on my phone though is called Mix 1. It's from a cd I used to absolutely love as a kid, and is 25minutes long, and just one great big medly of 50's Rock n Roll music. It's like Heaven in a track, and I know that Wendy did appreciate that. I feel that I have redeemed myself from Ponies via Mix 1.
So, to top off a fantastic adventure, we had a roast dinner that evening after we got home. Nothing can beat that.
The Great Ocean Road Trip is one of the most awesome-est things I have done on my trip so far. Truly.
Sunday, 25 March 2012
Thursday, 15 March 2012
In which I go rock-climbing, buy a man-hoodie, and get rather drunk. And get hit by a car.
So, the next date is Monday the 27th of February. Geez, am I behind in these.
Okay, well, Monday and Tuesday were devoted to looking for jobs. I went online and drove to some more shopping centres, handing out my resume. People in Australia are incredibly slack about replying to job offers, and it's really getting on my wick. The days where they send you a letter or call you to inform you that you haven't got it are long gone. Instead, they just leave you hanging, wondering if you're about to get employed any time soon. If that's the case, the answer is no. They don't call you? You didn't make it.
It's so frustrating, and downright rude. If I ever own my own business (which I hope to one day) I shall reply to all applicants, even if it's just a 'Sorry, you didn't get the job this time, but I'll hang onto your resume for futre reference.' I'll make myself better than these people that hardly acknowledge the fact that you're really trying to get a job.
My days, it's no wonder that so many people are on the doll. Bosses don't help give them motivation to get a job because they flipping ignore them. Rargh.
So other than that, I was dabbling with the though of transport. If I got a job, how would I get to it each day? Wendy said I could borrow her car for a while, but I don't want her to walk to work every day. It's a forty minute walk but a five-minute drive, and I'd feel super bad. So I entertained the idea of getting my own scooter or car. It'd give me a lot more independance, and it'd also be a great way to experience the country.
After doing some digging, I found that my English license allows me to drive a car but not a scooter or bike. If I wanted one of the latter, I'd have to do a short course and get my license registered at some place to get a bike-license attached to it.
The reason I'm considering a scooter is because it'd be a lot cheaper than a car, and they're awesome. I can just picture myself on a red hairdryer-on-wheels, motoring down a country road. It'd be fab.
But then, a scooter is very much a one-person mode of transport. If I got a car, I'd be able to advertise in hostels - Oh, I'm driving up to Sydney and have two spare seats, call me if you want to tag along - which would be a good way to meet people. I also wouldn't need to do a course or anything, as I could just buy it, register it, and off I go.
Well anyway, I wouldn't be able to do anything until I have more money, and that wouldn't come until I got a job. So that means that for the time being, I have to focus on getting work.
The sector I really want to get into is hospitality - waitressing, bar work, cafe/restaurant type thing. Unfortunately, they mainly want people for evening and weekend work as that's when they're most busy. And that's when I spend time with Wendy, so that kind of rules out a lot of places that are advertising in the hospitality business.
I could go into retail, as I've got three years experience backing me up, but I really don't want to. I mean, that's what I did in England. I'm here to try new things, not wind up doing the same work I was doing before hand.
Well, that was my Tuesday. It's actually very tiring looking for work. It's so much easier to just sit back and watch a movie rather than scroll through endless pages of job search-results, and it's very tempting to leave it at Oh, I'll do it tomorrow. Just like blogging, actually.
Oh, and I also went and got some medication from the doctor. Can you believe you have to pay to go to the doctors here? $60 a time! Blimey, you really don't want to get sick much if you have to pay those sorts of prices. And because I'm so used to not-paying, I left without giving them any money. They phoned me up later and were like, 'Um excuse me, but you didn't pay for your appointment today. Have you got a credit card I can have the details of please?'. Whoops. I felt like a bit of a lemon.
Wednesday I met up with one of the bronies from the meet-up. We went to the Dockland area of Melly, and went ice-skating. That was very fun. I made a fool out of myself when I fell flat on my arse, but it was good fun, and I came out of it with all of my fingers intact which is a lovely bonus :)
We got lunch and wondered around the Harbour town shopping-bit, where I stumbled across some hoodies. We made a joke of trying some on, but I discovered that this, this is what I've been missing! This hole, in my heart... it can only be filled with... a man hoodie. You know, it's pretty much scientifically proven that guy hoodies are so much better then girl hoodies. No one knows why. They just are.
So I dragged him to all of the guy-looking shops, and tried on many a man-hoodie to find The One. Turns out it was back at the very first shop I found it in, and was the very first one I tried on. That seems to be the story of my life - go out looking for a new dress or shoes, and end up buying the first thing you see, but at the end of the trip, not the beginning. I recall it made Bestie laugh dryly and roll her eyes on a fair few occasions. I suspect I can be a bugger to go shopping with, but people are too nice to tell me so.
Well anyway, this hoodie is fantastisch. So big and warm and comfy, and I love it so. The day I got it, I refused to take it off even when I went to bed, and that refusal led me to one of my great discoveries of my trip - I asbolutely love sleeping in hoodies and jumpers. Where this love came from, I have no idea. But it seems that as I change as a person, I'm discovering wonderful things. And this is one of them.
Thursday evening was fun too. Nothing much happened during the day (as it tends not to, on week-days) but in the evening Wendy, Linda and I went rock-climbing! Wendy met someone on her masseuse course whose husband works at an indoor rock-climbing place, and we were all invited down to have a go.
After been shown the ropes by a worker (ha, ropes, in a rock-climbing centre...), we were let loose on the walls. I found I sort of have a knack for it, or at the very least have enough leg muscles to push myself up the walls. It was rather fun, and a good muscle-building activity, even if my thighs did hurt the next day. It was also fun belaying for someone, where you stand on the ground attached to the rope, and tighten it as they go up and slowly loosen it when they're ready to come back down.
On my final climb, Wendy was belaying for me, and I nearly died coming down. The rope wasn't quite tight enough so I fell a metre or so, the rope then twanged tight, and I was flying halfway across the room on this rope, squealing like a girl. Cue a half-hysterical 'Are you trying to kill me?!' being shouted down to my Australian cousin. But it was a bit exhilirating, and I was in no real danger so I didn't really mind. We had a good time.
Friday was good too, but in a different way. It was Derpy Day, a Brony public holiday in which everyone is extra nice to strangers and buys people muffins to celebrate the character of Derpy Hooves. Some people go around the public giving people a script of Pinkie's Singing Telegram song, and recording them singing it then merging it into a long video, and one guy asked people to write letters of happiness and good will, email them to him, and he went around Sydney delivering them through the letterbox of random houses.
So bearing this in mind, the chocolate muffin I bought outside of Flinders St Station had a special meaning to me and was that much more enjoyable. I ate it in the 5-minute break of my RSA course, the reason I was in the city that day.
In Australia you need to have a Responsible Service of Alcohol certificate in order to work in bars, restaurants, clubs, basically anywhere that sells alcohol. These courses are about $50+ and can be done in a huge amount of places in the city. The one I chose to do was at 250 Collins Street by a company called Hospitality Training Australia. It lasted about four hours and we went over everything from how many drinks you can have before you become prone to accidents (4 standard ones), to when it's okay to have a minor drinking alcohol (only with their parents/guardians, are having a meal, and only have one drink).
At the end there was a test of twenty questions, and I'm pleased to say I got nineteen of them correct. As a result, I got a lovely certificate with my name on it, certifying me as having completed an RSA course.
I did feel sorry for one girl who didn't notice there were more questions on the back of the paper, so only answered 11 out of 20. I'm not sure how they fixed it, but I hope she learnt you should always look at the back of an exam paper. My Psychology exams in college taught me that.
On the way back to the station I went and picked up two more muffins from the same shop. I'll bet the server thinks I'm a greedy-guts for buying three muffins on the same day, but these weren't for me.
On the way home I drew an ornate picture of Derpy on a page from my notebook, with the words Happy Derpy Day! and popped it into the bag with the muffins. Then after getting back home, I happily presented them to Wendy and Geoff. I don't think they could quite comprehend why Bronies (who they know are mostly guys) would do something like that, but they appreciated the delicacies all the same. And it turns out Derpy Day was actually on the Thrsday, not Friday. But I held the concept true and still celebrated the belated holiday. Will be doing it again next year for sure. The world can always do with a bit more happiness.
Saturday the third of March was a mix of a day. It started brilliantly - I drove down to Berwick to meet with another Brony friend called Josh that I met at the meetup. Thanks to the SatNav I arrived without a hitch and parked behind the pub. Josh and I met at the pub and then trecked down to a coffee place for a drink and a chat. We stayed in Berwick the whole time, had lunch in the pub (which is more of a posh hotel, and I felt rather underdressed) and then drove to the shopping centre where we hit the arcade.
I got thrashed at the motorbike simulator. We did the race in Paris (for you, Bestie) and at one point ended racing through a graveyard, then went underground and there were all these ghosts and spirits and stuff around us. I feel it could have been a realistic representation of your holiday?
However I did manage to hold my own in a Shoot-em-up for quite a substantial amount of time, and I was quite impressed with myself for that. Of course, I love blowing things up and the like, so it was pretty darn fun.
We walked around the shopping centre, and found a gaming shop hosting a Yu-Gi-Oh! TCG tournament. We checked it out for a bit, and then looked around the shop. It was pretty cool - it had replica memorabilia from Final Fantasy and such, and I saw a life size Master Sword and Hyrule Shield from Zelda. I cann't begin to tell you how much I wanted to buy them, and for $160 for the both of them, It was a very reasonable price, and the detail was awesome. I talked myself into not buying it, though. Not sure how I'd explain that buy to my parents.
However, when I get my own place, I shall proudly let my geek decorate it, and I shall have the Master Sword and the Hyrule Shield atop my mantle piece. I will be the envy of everyone. Most of them just wont know it.
I satisfied myself with buying a Zelda hat instead. I'm pretty sure it's a guy's hat, but hey, who cares? It can go with my guy-hoodie. It is incredibly cool - all black, with the Hyrule-eagle symbol outlined in silver about twenty to thirty times, and then a very big one diagonally placed on the front. The big one is stitched in gold cotton and heavily outlined in black.
And actually, after doing a google search, I found an image of it - hatty hat hat. It's such a swish thing, I love it so <3
So yeah, I bought an awesome hat. Josh nearly bought a Halo wallet but decided not to despite my encouragement. I'm so so bad at that. I'm a bad bad person to go shopping with. I have hardly any self-restraint, and encourage people to lose theirs too. Bad Merlin.
We got back in the car and I decided to get some petrol. So we got in the right-turning lane, with Moves Like Jagger playing on the radio, and the light turned green. The convoy of cars started moving, but then the woman in front of me suddenly slammed the brakes on, despite the light being green. Reacting quickly, so did I. I didn't know what the Hell she was doing - I mean, it was green, so why on Earth did she stop? I still have no Idea, two weeks on. It boggles me.
The guy behind me wasn't as responsive, as Josh and I jerked forward as his bonnet hit the back of Wendy's car. We kind of sat in silence for a moment, and then I put the handbrake on. Josh turned the radio off and all three of us got out of our cars.
I was shaking quite bad. I'd never been hit before, so I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to do. We were in a queue of traffic so we couldn't talk here. I gave the guy a stern look and told him to follow me to a parking spot, and he agreed.
We got back in the car and quietly turned right (after the light re-turned green) and I led the guy round the back of the petrol station, and thankfully, he did follow me.
We got out again, and the guy was very apoologetic, but that didnt change the fact that he hadn't reacted in decent time, like I had. He said that he was on the way back from 'training' and that he was incredibly tired which is why he didn't respond so quickly. I mean, dude. If you're incredibly tired you shouldn't be on the road.
The damage wasn't great - a few scratches, cracked paintwork and the like. But it didn't matter to me how little the damage was - the fact was that it wasn't my car. Wendy and Geoff had lent me their vehicle, quite generously, and I'd gone and got hit by some other idiot. I felt so bad, so guilty. It was one of the worst feelings I've ever experienced.
I wasn't in my own country, I didn't have comprehensive insurance, and I'd just been hit in a car which didn't belong to me. That first initial hour after it happened was one of the worst I've experienced in a long long time.
It turned out that the other driver wasn't insured. Things were worse for him, because I was at least covered by the very basic insurance Australia has - that if you're hit by another driver, you're covered. But if you hit someone else, you're not.
So I took his name, email address and mobile number. Told him we'd contact a mechanic to look at the damage and then tell him the cost. He agreed that that would be the best way to deal with the situaton.
In hindsight, I also should have taken his registration number. But I was rather shaken up, and it just didn't occur to me at the time.
The driver went off, and we sat in the car for a moment, allowing me to collect myself. I still had to buy petrol, and Josh was still a Learner, so he couldn't drive for me. After giving myself a mental slap in the face to get a grip, we went to the petrol station. I phoned Wendy to ask what type of petrol to put in the car (there are like two or three different types), and I think she noticed there was something wrong via my voice tones. I assured her I was fine, but I reckon she was having suspicions that Josh wasn't as gentlemanly as I'd described him. My bad, Josh. I just didn't want to tell her on the phone Oh yeah, by the way, I just got bit by a car cause her mind may have gone into overdrive or overprotective mode. She was also busy organizing a party for Geoff's daughter, so that was another reason not to bother her with it at that time.
It was still pretty obvious that I was still a bit shakey, so Josh insisted that we went to a cafe and had something chocolatey to spruce me up. I drove back to the main street and parked up again, and we went and had a slice of Mars cake at a coffee shop.
Josh was excellent for me that day; I'm incredibly grateful that he was there. He allowed me to be clingy, and kept me talking and laughing, so much so that I nearly forgot what I was upset about. He was rather a Saint.
So when the time came to drive back to Rowville, it was a nervous drive. It was absolutely pouring down with rain, so on the freeway I went a bit lower than the limit. I didn't want another accident to happen if I could prevent it. I didn't look at the tonnes of probably angry cars overtaking me. I just drove at my own pace and made it back to Wendy's in one piece.
As soon as I got home I took Wendy aside and told her what had happened. I was a bit of a mess, quivering and crying, but she was fantastic about it. She said that it wasn't the first time it had happened to their car, and that it wouldn't be the last. She said that she'd done it to other people by mistake, and that in Australia if it's not too serious they don't really care.
The fact that I was so upset about it made Wendy say that if I didn't care, had been like Oh yeah, got hit today, bit of damage. No worries though, eh? then she would have been rather pissed off. Thankfully though, I have a very large conscience.
So after all that had happened, there was still a party to attend. I did take a few minutes to bawl in my room before heading out and saying hello to people. Geoff's daughter Sam was twenty-one and they'd invited loads of Geoff's family over to celebrate.
After the day that I'd had, I confess I drank a lot of alcohol. I've never yet been as drunk as I was that night. I had many many ciders, and also a few glasses of Vodka Cranberry and a glass of champagne, and a glass of punch.
I only knew Wendy and Geoff, so if I hadn't been drunk I would have been feeling very awkward and the odd-one-out. Thankfully though, I was drunk. So I happily went around talking to strangers, hugging people, and dancing (probably badly) to the loud music they had going on, and I had a really good time.
At around 1AM I started munching on tic tacs that I'd been practicing swallowing tablets with. That was what tipped me over the edge, I reckon. Yes, that night I chundered for the first time in my life. When Geoff found out the next day, he gave me an incredibly proud smile and said 'My work here is done'. (I think he thinks we don't drink heavilly in England).
So Sunday we just had to clear up. Geoff's two daughters, their boyfriends, and a best friend stayed over after the party. After a lovely BBQ breakfast, we got to work clearing away plates, cups, bottles, beer tops and the like.
I designated myself in charge of the washing up, and after spending quite a time helping clear up outside there was a substantial amount to do. I spent over an hour at the sink, washing and then drying, then putting away, and then doing the whole cycle again. I think that if I hadn't had my music on to help it along, I could have made some angry comments to the over-nighters. They hardly lifted a finger the entire time. They'd do a bit here and there, but Wendy Geoff and I did practically all of the work. I was so angry. I mean, I didn't even know these people. If you have a birthday party, you help clear up the next day. No excuses.
Maybe it's because I have a strong sense of duty or whatever. I just know I wasn't too impressed. Especially when one of the boys said to me 'Wow you've been standing at that sink for ages. It must feel like forever'. I really really had to bite my tongue at that.
The day did get better though - after the clearing up was finally finished Wendy and Geoff and I went Go-Karting. I'd never done it before but had always wanted to. We paid for twenty laps, and had major fun with it. Of course, Geoff won. He was so full of himself before the race, but afterwards I'm not entirely sure how he managed to fit his head in the car. It was quite funny though - he got a really really bad back because of the position you have to sit in, and I cheekily commented that it was Karma getting him back for being big headed.
It's difficult though. I thought it'd be like Mario Kart, but apparently not. It's so hard to know when to use the breaks, because you lose so much momentum going around the corners that you have to rebuild on the straights. Also, it pulls on your arms a lot, because you have to keep them ramrod straight the entire time, and grip the wheel with an insane amount of strength.
I came in third. Not last. Third. Out of three. But definitely not last.
But it doesn't matter that I didn't win, because I'd wup their asses at Mario Kart any day.
Okay, well, Monday and Tuesday were devoted to looking for jobs. I went online and drove to some more shopping centres, handing out my resume. People in Australia are incredibly slack about replying to job offers, and it's really getting on my wick. The days where they send you a letter or call you to inform you that you haven't got it are long gone. Instead, they just leave you hanging, wondering if you're about to get employed any time soon. If that's the case, the answer is no. They don't call you? You didn't make it.
It's so frustrating, and downright rude. If I ever own my own business (which I hope to one day) I shall reply to all applicants, even if it's just a 'Sorry, you didn't get the job this time, but I'll hang onto your resume for futre reference.' I'll make myself better than these people that hardly acknowledge the fact that you're really trying to get a job.
My days, it's no wonder that so many people are on the doll. Bosses don't help give them motivation to get a job because they flipping ignore them. Rargh.
So other than that, I was dabbling with the though of transport. If I got a job, how would I get to it each day? Wendy said I could borrow her car for a while, but I don't want her to walk to work every day. It's a forty minute walk but a five-minute drive, and I'd feel super bad. So I entertained the idea of getting my own scooter or car. It'd give me a lot more independance, and it'd also be a great way to experience the country.
After doing some digging, I found that my English license allows me to drive a car but not a scooter or bike. If I wanted one of the latter, I'd have to do a short course and get my license registered at some place to get a bike-license attached to it.
The reason I'm considering a scooter is because it'd be a lot cheaper than a car, and they're awesome. I can just picture myself on a red hairdryer-on-wheels, motoring down a country road. It'd be fab.
But then, a scooter is very much a one-person mode of transport. If I got a car, I'd be able to advertise in hostels - Oh, I'm driving up to Sydney and have two spare seats, call me if you want to tag along - which would be a good way to meet people. I also wouldn't need to do a course or anything, as I could just buy it, register it, and off I go.
Well anyway, I wouldn't be able to do anything until I have more money, and that wouldn't come until I got a job. So that means that for the time being, I have to focus on getting work.
The sector I really want to get into is hospitality - waitressing, bar work, cafe/restaurant type thing. Unfortunately, they mainly want people for evening and weekend work as that's when they're most busy. And that's when I spend time with Wendy, so that kind of rules out a lot of places that are advertising in the hospitality business.
I could go into retail, as I've got three years experience backing me up, but I really don't want to. I mean, that's what I did in England. I'm here to try new things, not wind up doing the same work I was doing before hand.
Well, that was my Tuesday. It's actually very tiring looking for work. It's so much easier to just sit back and watch a movie rather than scroll through endless pages of job search-results, and it's very tempting to leave it at Oh, I'll do it tomorrow. Just like blogging, actually.
Oh, and I also went and got some medication from the doctor. Can you believe you have to pay to go to the doctors here? $60 a time! Blimey, you really don't want to get sick much if you have to pay those sorts of prices. And because I'm so used to not-paying, I left without giving them any money. They phoned me up later and were like, 'Um excuse me, but you didn't pay for your appointment today. Have you got a credit card I can have the details of please?'. Whoops. I felt like a bit of a lemon.
Wednesday I met up with one of the bronies from the meet-up. We went to the Dockland area of Melly, and went ice-skating. That was very fun. I made a fool out of myself when I fell flat on my arse, but it was good fun, and I came out of it with all of my fingers intact which is a lovely bonus :)
We got lunch and wondered around the Harbour town shopping-bit, where I stumbled across some hoodies. We made a joke of trying some on, but I discovered that this, this is what I've been missing! This hole, in my heart... it can only be filled with... a man hoodie. You know, it's pretty much scientifically proven that guy hoodies are so much better then girl hoodies. No one knows why. They just are.
So I dragged him to all of the guy-looking shops, and tried on many a man-hoodie to find The One. Turns out it was back at the very first shop I found it in, and was the very first one I tried on. That seems to be the story of my life - go out looking for a new dress or shoes, and end up buying the first thing you see, but at the end of the trip, not the beginning. I recall it made Bestie laugh dryly and roll her eyes on a fair few occasions. I suspect I can be a bugger to go shopping with, but people are too nice to tell me so.
Well anyway, this hoodie is fantastisch. So big and warm and comfy, and I love it so. The day I got it, I refused to take it off even when I went to bed, and that refusal led me to one of my great discoveries of my trip - I asbolutely love sleeping in hoodies and jumpers. Where this love came from, I have no idea. But it seems that as I change as a person, I'm discovering wonderful things. And this is one of them.
Thursday evening was fun too. Nothing much happened during the day (as it tends not to, on week-days) but in the evening Wendy, Linda and I went rock-climbing! Wendy met someone on her masseuse course whose husband works at an indoor rock-climbing place, and we were all invited down to have a go.
After been shown the ropes by a worker (ha, ropes, in a rock-climbing centre...), we were let loose on the walls. I found I sort of have a knack for it, or at the very least have enough leg muscles to push myself up the walls. It was rather fun, and a good muscle-building activity, even if my thighs did hurt the next day. It was also fun belaying for someone, where you stand on the ground attached to the rope, and tighten it as they go up and slowly loosen it when they're ready to come back down.
On my final climb, Wendy was belaying for me, and I nearly died coming down. The rope wasn't quite tight enough so I fell a metre or so, the rope then twanged tight, and I was flying halfway across the room on this rope, squealing like a girl. Cue a half-hysterical 'Are you trying to kill me?!' being shouted down to my Australian cousin. But it was a bit exhilirating, and I was in no real danger so I didn't really mind. We had a good time.
Friday was good too, but in a different way. It was Derpy Day, a Brony public holiday in which everyone is extra nice to strangers and buys people muffins to celebrate the character of Derpy Hooves. Some people go around the public giving people a script of Pinkie's Singing Telegram song, and recording them singing it then merging it into a long video, and one guy asked people to write letters of happiness and good will, email them to him, and he went around Sydney delivering them through the letterbox of random houses.
So bearing this in mind, the chocolate muffin I bought outside of Flinders St Station had a special meaning to me and was that much more enjoyable. I ate it in the 5-minute break of my RSA course, the reason I was in the city that day.
In Australia you need to have a Responsible Service of Alcohol certificate in order to work in bars, restaurants, clubs, basically anywhere that sells alcohol. These courses are about $50+ and can be done in a huge amount of places in the city. The one I chose to do was at 250 Collins Street by a company called Hospitality Training Australia. It lasted about four hours and we went over everything from how many drinks you can have before you become prone to accidents (4 standard ones), to when it's okay to have a minor drinking alcohol (only with their parents/guardians, are having a meal, and only have one drink).
At the end there was a test of twenty questions, and I'm pleased to say I got nineteen of them correct. As a result, I got a lovely certificate with my name on it, certifying me as having completed an RSA course.
I did feel sorry for one girl who didn't notice there were more questions on the back of the paper, so only answered 11 out of 20. I'm not sure how they fixed it, but I hope she learnt you should always look at the back of an exam paper. My Psychology exams in college taught me that.
On the way back to the station I went and picked up two more muffins from the same shop. I'll bet the server thinks I'm a greedy-guts for buying three muffins on the same day, but these weren't for me.
On the way home I drew an ornate picture of Derpy on a page from my notebook, with the words Happy Derpy Day! and popped it into the bag with the muffins. Then after getting back home, I happily presented them to Wendy and Geoff. I don't think they could quite comprehend why Bronies (who they know are mostly guys) would do something like that, but they appreciated the delicacies all the same. And it turns out Derpy Day was actually on the Thrsday, not Friday. But I held the concept true and still celebrated the belated holiday. Will be doing it again next year for sure. The world can always do with a bit more happiness.
Saturday the third of March was a mix of a day. It started brilliantly - I drove down to Berwick to meet with another Brony friend called Josh that I met at the meetup. Thanks to the SatNav I arrived without a hitch and parked behind the pub. Josh and I met at the pub and then trecked down to a coffee place for a drink and a chat. We stayed in Berwick the whole time, had lunch in the pub (which is more of a posh hotel, and I felt rather underdressed) and then drove to the shopping centre where we hit the arcade.
I got thrashed at the motorbike simulator. We did the race in Paris (for you, Bestie) and at one point ended racing through a graveyard, then went underground and there were all these ghosts and spirits and stuff around us. I feel it could have been a realistic representation of your holiday?
However I did manage to hold my own in a Shoot-em-up for quite a substantial amount of time, and I was quite impressed with myself for that. Of course, I love blowing things up and the like, so it was pretty darn fun.
We walked around the shopping centre, and found a gaming shop hosting a Yu-Gi-Oh! TCG tournament. We checked it out for a bit, and then looked around the shop. It was pretty cool - it had replica memorabilia from Final Fantasy and such, and I saw a life size Master Sword and Hyrule Shield from Zelda. I cann't begin to tell you how much I wanted to buy them, and for $160 for the both of them, It was a very reasonable price, and the detail was awesome. I talked myself into not buying it, though. Not sure how I'd explain that buy to my parents.
However, when I get my own place, I shall proudly let my geek decorate it, and I shall have the Master Sword and the Hyrule Shield atop my mantle piece. I will be the envy of everyone. Most of them just wont know it.
I satisfied myself with buying a Zelda hat instead. I'm pretty sure it's a guy's hat, but hey, who cares? It can go with my guy-hoodie. It is incredibly cool - all black, with the Hyrule-eagle symbol outlined in silver about twenty to thirty times, and then a very big one diagonally placed on the front. The big one is stitched in gold cotton and heavily outlined in black.
And actually, after doing a google search, I found an image of it - hatty hat hat. It's such a swish thing, I love it so <3
So yeah, I bought an awesome hat. Josh nearly bought a Halo wallet but decided not to despite my encouragement. I'm so so bad at that. I'm a bad bad person to go shopping with. I have hardly any self-restraint, and encourage people to lose theirs too. Bad Merlin.
We got back in the car and I decided to get some petrol. So we got in the right-turning lane, with Moves Like Jagger playing on the radio, and the light turned green. The convoy of cars started moving, but then the woman in front of me suddenly slammed the brakes on, despite the light being green. Reacting quickly, so did I. I didn't know what the Hell she was doing - I mean, it was green, so why on Earth did she stop? I still have no Idea, two weeks on. It boggles me.
The guy behind me wasn't as responsive, as Josh and I jerked forward as his bonnet hit the back of Wendy's car. We kind of sat in silence for a moment, and then I put the handbrake on. Josh turned the radio off and all three of us got out of our cars.
I was shaking quite bad. I'd never been hit before, so I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to do. We were in a queue of traffic so we couldn't talk here. I gave the guy a stern look and told him to follow me to a parking spot, and he agreed.
We got back in the car and quietly turned right (after the light re-turned green) and I led the guy round the back of the petrol station, and thankfully, he did follow me.
We got out again, and the guy was very apoologetic, but that didnt change the fact that he hadn't reacted in decent time, like I had. He said that he was on the way back from 'training' and that he was incredibly tired which is why he didn't respond so quickly. I mean, dude. If you're incredibly tired you shouldn't be on the road.
The damage wasn't great - a few scratches, cracked paintwork and the like. But it didn't matter to me how little the damage was - the fact was that it wasn't my car. Wendy and Geoff had lent me their vehicle, quite generously, and I'd gone and got hit by some other idiot. I felt so bad, so guilty. It was one of the worst feelings I've ever experienced.
I wasn't in my own country, I didn't have comprehensive insurance, and I'd just been hit in a car which didn't belong to me. That first initial hour after it happened was one of the worst I've experienced in a long long time.
It turned out that the other driver wasn't insured. Things were worse for him, because I was at least covered by the very basic insurance Australia has - that if you're hit by another driver, you're covered. But if you hit someone else, you're not.
So I took his name, email address and mobile number. Told him we'd contact a mechanic to look at the damage and then tell him the cost. He agreed that that would be the best way to deal with the situaton.
In hindsight, I also should have taken his registration number. But I was rather shaken up, and it just didn't occur to me at the time.
The driver went off, and we sat in the car for a moment, allowing me to collect myself. I still had to buy petrol, and Josh was still a Learner, so he couldn't drive for me. After giving myself a mental slap in the face to get a grip, we went to the petrol station. I phoned Wendy to ask what type of petrol to put in the car (there are like two or three different types), and I think she noticed there was something wrong via my voice tones. I assured her I was fine, but I reckon she was having suspicions that Josh wasn't as gentlemanly as I'd described him. My bad, Josh. I just didn't want to tell her on the phone Oh yeah, by the way, I just got bit by a car cause her mind may have gone into overdrive or overprotective mode. She was also busy organizing a party for Geoff's daughter, so that was another reason not to bother her with it at that time.
It was still pretty obvious that I was still a bit shakey, so Josh insisted that we went to a cafe and had something chocolatey to spruce me up. I drove back to the main street and parked up again, and we went and had a slice of Mars cake at a coffee shop.
Josh was excellent for me that day; I'm incredibly grateful that he was there. He allowed me to be clingy, and kept me talking and laughing, so much so that I nearly forgot what I was upset about. He was rather a Saint.
So when the time came to drive back to Rowville, it was a nervous drive. It was absolutely pouring down with rain, so on the freeway I went a bit lower than the limit. I didn't want another accident to happen if I could prevent it. I didn't look at the tonnes of probably angry cars overtaking me. I just drove at my own pace and made it back to Wendy's in one piece.
As soon as I got home I took Wendy aside and told her what had happened. I was a bit of a mess, quivering and crying, but she was fantastic about it. She said that it wasn't the first time it had happened to their car, and that it wouldn't be the last. She said that she'd done it to other people by mistake, and that in Australia if it's not too serious they don't really care.
The fact that I was so upset about it made Wendy say that if I didn't care, had been like Oh yeah, got hit today, bit of damage. No worries though, eh? then she would have been rather pissed off. Thankfully though, I have a very large conscience.
So after all that had happened, there was still a party to attend. I did take a few minutes to bawl in my room before heading out and saying hello to people. Geoff's daughter Sam was twenty-one and they'd invited loads of Geoff's family over to celebrate.
After the day that I'd had, I confess I drank a lot of alcohol. I've never yet been as drunk as I was that night. I had many many ciders, and also a few glasses of Vodka Cranberry and a glass of champagne, and a glass of punch.
I only knew Wendy and Geoff, so if I hadn't been drunk I would have been feeling very awkward and the odd-one-out. Thankfully though, I was drunk. So I happily went around talking to strangers, hugging people, and dancing (probably badly) to the loud music they had going on, and I had a really good time.
At around 1AM I started munching on tic tacs that I'd been practicing swallowing tablets with. That was what tipped me over the edge, I reckon. Yes, that night I chundered for the first time in my life. When Geoff found out the next day, he gave me an incredibly proud smile and said 'My work here is done'. (I think he thinks we don't drink heavilly in England).
So Sunday we just had to clear up. Geoff's two daughters, their boyfriends, and a best friend stayed over after the party. After a lovely BBQ breakfast, we got to work clearing away plates, cups, bottles, beer tops and the like.
I designated myself in charge of the washing up, and after spending quite a time helping clear up outside there was a substantial amount to do. I spent over an hour at the sink, washing and then drying, then putting away, and then doing the whole cycle again. I think that if I hadn't had my music on to help it along, I could have made some angry comments to the over-nighters. They hardly lifted a finger the entire time. They'd do a bit here and there, but Wendy Geoff and I did practically all of the work. I was so angry. I mean, I didn't even know these people. If you have a birthday party, you help clear up the next day. No excuses.
Maybe it's because I have a strong sense of duty or whatever. I just know I wasn't too impressed. Especially when one of the boys said to me 'Wow you've been standing at that sink for ages. It must feel like forever'. I really really had to bite my tongue at that.
The day did get better though - after the clearing up was finally finished Wendy and Geoff and I went Go-Karting. I'd never done it before but had always wanted to. We paid for twenty laps, and had major fun with it. Of course, Geoff won. He was so full of himself before the race, but afterwards I'm not entirely sure how he managed to fit his head in the car. It was quite funny though - he got a really really bad back because of the position you have to sit in, and I cheekily commented that it was Karma getting him back for being big headed.
It's difficult though. I thought it'd be like Mario Kart, but apparently not. It's so hard to know when to use the breaks, because you lose so much momentum going around the corners that you have to rebuild on the straights. Also, it pulls on your arms a lot, because you have to keep them ramrod straight the entire time, and grip the wheel with an insane amount of strength.
I came in third. Not last. Third. Out of three. But definitely not last.
But it doesn't matter that I didn't win, because I'd wup their asses at Mario Kart any day.
Thursday, 8 March 2012
In which it is slander to call a penguin a fairy.
So, on Wednesday my main job was to book the Dolphin swim. Ho yes. On the fourth of March, Geoff Wendy and I shall get on a boat at the Mornington Peninsula, and shall go out to sea. Wendy will stay on the boat, but Geoff and I shall don some wetsuits, and go swimming with dolphins!
That's the plan at any rate. There's a 98% chance that they shall turn up, but being wild creatures, there's that little 2% that means they wont. And with my bad luck combined with Geoff's apparent bad luck, it could very well be the case that they won't. So, watch this space.
After that was booked, I didn't have much to do during the day. I carried on reading John Marsden's series of books on Wendy's kindle. Kindles are called irivers in Australia. Little bit of trivia for you.
The day before I started the second book, and Wednesday I started the third book. It's pretty tense stuff, and when Wendy got home from work and we took the dogs on a walk around the Retarding Basin (lol) I had a nice chat about it, going something like this...
Me - "This place is nice. Very lush. My friend Maddy would love it here."
Wendy - "Oh, is she a friend of yours?"
Me - "Yeah, we're very close. She loves nature and green stuff, so this place would be great. Hmm, how can I describe her? Oh! You know Robyn, from the Tomorrow series? She's like her. Petite but fiery, and is in touch with religion and the Earth. Just like Robyn."
Wendy - "Ah then she must be lovely. What book are you on now?"
Me - "The third one."
Wendy - "Oh, I cried at that book."
Me - "Oh God, someone dies don't they..."
I'm so sorry Maddy, I had no idea. At the end of the third book, Robyn sacrifices herself to save her friends. She blows herself up. So imagine for me reading that, when I'd knowingly compared the two of you. I felt awful.
Well anyway, Wendy and I went for a lovely long walk around a small lake with the dogs, just chatting and chilling and generally hanging out, which was great. It was a very scenic route, and very beautiful.
When we got back, Geoff was home from work, and we headed to Knox again, to a restaurant called Hog's Breath. Had a nice meal of parmagiana, though it wasn't as tasty as the one I'd had in the pub in Newstead. There were some very noisy guys in the corner of the room, and played a game of who could shout 'penis' the loudest. Then came a round of happy birthday, with one guy screaming at an astonishingly loud scream after every line. We were pretty disgusted that they didn't get kicked out, and filled out a 'Did we impress you?' card with a great fat NO.
I did add afterwards that the waitress had been lovely, because I didn't want her to feel bad. Not too sure what Geoff thought of that.
Thursday was another slow day. I read the fourth Tomorrow book, Darkness be my friend, but compared to the third it felt pretty slow, like a filler episode or a TV show. Nevertheless, it kept me occupied during the day and I did enjoy it. Wendy's iriver is a glorious thing. Makes me think about buying one myself - then at least I wouldn't have to cart around heavy paperbacks with me. But I'd only want it for travelling, like I'm doing now. I relish the feel of a page between my fingers, and the smell of a real book far too much to forgo them forever.
I then started the fifth one, Burning for revenge, but didn't get too far because the battery died. I have found the major flaw in irivers and kindles. Real books don't need batteries. So I entertained myself by writing some of this blog until Wendy got home.
Wendy and Geoff went on a long walk at the Retarding Basin (hee), and I stayed back so that they could enjoy some quality time. Don't want to impede on their together-time too much. Not that I'd be treated like a third wheel (far from it, actually), but I think couples should be allowed to do couply-things. And since my presence sort of means they don't, I should give them times to themselves.
Anyway, after they got back, we had dinner, and Wendy and I then went to a nearby shopping centre so that I could buy some pumps from K-Mart. A super good value shop, rather like Matalan. We were going to meet Wendy's friend in a bar in the city the next day, and I didn't have any nice shoes with me. So, off to K-mart!
I always like sitting in the passenger seat of someone else's car. If I were driving my own car, and they were in the passenger seat, they may not feel relaxed enough to sing along to the radio. But when they are in control of their own vehicle, they do. And I'm very glad that people do, because I love it when they start singing softly (or loudly) to tunes. You can just sink back into your chair a little and listen to your friends creating a little harmony. And lucky me, because I'm in the car with Wendy quite a bit, so have heard her sing a bit too. And she has a really really lovely singing voice.
So it was a nice ride to K-mart, with Wendy singing along every now and then, and I was treated to it again on the way home after buying my $12 pumps. Lucky me indeed.
Friday was a good day, because I was getting super excited about my Brony meetup the next day. So I was listening to feel-good music to help my happy mood extend for as long as possible, and I stumbled across this little gem on youtube. Don't pass over it just because it has a picture of a pony on it. It's drum-and-bass pure awesomeness. Crank your speakers up and try it out. You'll get an eargasm.
In addition to electro-music, I also got my ukulele out again. Since the iriver was out of fuel, and I forgot to ask where the charger was, I didn't have too many options on Friday. So I tuned up my uke, and figured out some more notes to the Pony theme song, played some You've got the Love, and Axel F. The uke is so much fun, it's a shame we don't see more of them available in the UK.
It turned out that the shoes I bought the day before were too small, despite the fact that I'd tried them on in the shop and they were fine. So on the way to the City, all dressed up nice-like in my 60's jumpsuit, Wendy and I stopped back in K-Mart and swapped the shoes. The shoes I replaced them with are exactly the same size, but they fit. How crazy that in the same shop, the same sized shoe, one pair fits and another doesn't. Describes the world we live in perfectly. Messed up. However, the new pumps were only $8 so I got a $4 refund. Woo!
Anyway, Wendy and I got to the Royal Saxon Hotel in Richmond, where we met her friend Linda and a bunch of her colleagues for drinks. It was a tad awkward because I felt especially young around these 27-50year olds, and as such I didn't say much. Just sipped my drinks quietly but looked interested in what people were saying. If they finished a sentence and had an expectant smile on their face, I'd grin and laugh a little. Otherwise, I'd smile and nod, and then have another sip of drink.
It was awkward when Wendy left to get us drinks, because I don't know Linda, and silence reigned for 90% of the time Wendy was gone. I think I felt like a bit of a tagalong, as Wendy was Linda's friend, and I was 'Wendy's cousin'. I'm extremely proud to be, of course, but it still was a bit of an awkward night.
Seeing as it was also the first 'night out' in Australia that I'd had, I was missing my friends terribly. I kept looking at my phone and wondering what Maddy and Bestie were up to - most probably lectures and the journey to college. Then maybe they were on a break between lectures, or just settling down for the first art session of the day. I was reminiscing about the times when we'd been on nights out, and their absence hit me pretty hard that night.
Eventually, because we'd missed dinner, our hunger made itself known, and we said our goodbye's and found a Domino's. My quiet mood had also been noticed by Wendy (I'd be surprised if anyone missed it), and we chatted about things over pizza. In our chats I discovered that a reason I'd been feeling a bit blue lately was because I was tired of making my own decisions. Since I came to Oz, even though I've not had the pressure of accommodation because I've been generously housed by lovely people, I've been handed lots of decisions.
"What do you want to do? Where would you like to go? Do you want to buy a car? Are you going to get a job?"
They're not questions with enormous amounts of pressure on them, but I just wanted someone to make them for me for a while. Then I could just cruise along doing whatever the other person wanted, and not have to worry about anything.
Well, Wendy gave me a huge big pep talk, and I felt much better. I just have to man up and take things in my stride. Making decisions is a part of life, and one I just have to deal with. And that's all there is to it. Welcome to the real world, Merlin.
On Saturday I had an awesome day planned. I found that there was a Melbourne Brony meetup at the beach, and decided to casually tag along. So I packed myself up a lunch, and Wendy and Geoff drove me to Chelsea.
I trekked towards a large group of people, and to my luck spotted pony tents, so I knew I was in the right place. I'd missed the group photo, but was in time to do the ice-breaker, where we all stood in a circle and said our name, and our favourite pony. There were around twenty-two people there, and if your fave pony was the same as someone else's, they'd give a cheer. I got two cheers - one for my pony, and one for saying 'I'm an English Brony', which was nice get get a 'woo!' for.
No one really remembered peoples' names, from the ice-breaker, but that was okay. If we were talking to someone we'd just ask them again. They're all such a friendly bunch, and being a Brony is just like being part of a community.
First things first though - you can't not go swimming as soon as you get to the beach. So I slapped some sunny on and raced to the water. Some bronies were already swimming, so I just drifted over and joined in their conversations. Got talking to two guys whilst out in the sea,and we pretty much stuck together for the rest of the day. We walked and got chips, then went and chilled with the others for a bit. We observed the start of the sand-castle building competition, in which all of three people competed, and then went swimming again.
I'd say I spent 90% of my time in the water, which was excellent. It was a picture postcard type beach - beautiful stretches of golden sand, water so blue that you could see your feet even when you were out to sea. It was tres cool.
Thinking about the beach, and beachy-type things, I have never seen so many legs until I came to Aus. Literally everyone has their legs out most of the time - I even saw an 80-year old in a bikini when I was in Brissy, which was incredible but very unsettling. I was impressed with that woman's self-confidence. I don't know if I could get my nan in a bikini at the beach. But then again, England really isn't the best place for beaches so that decreases my chances anyway.
Well we had a frisbee in the sea, and to start with about five of us were in a big circle. It was quite windy that day, so if we were throwing it to the right we never had a chance of catching it, which made it fun. We'd race each other to the disc, and take dives to claim our plastic prize. It got even funnerer when the rest of the bronies came and joined in, and there was around twenty or so all fighting for this frisbee.
And then out of nowhere, there appeared another frisbee. When the guy produced it, there were cries of Huzzah! The fun has been doubled! which had me in hysterics. I mean, all along I've known that the brony population is probably 70% guys (proven by the fact that out of twenty-five people, four of us were female) but to see them so happily saying stuff like 'Come on, everypony! Sand-castle building competition!' just gives me an incredulous giggle phase.
Some pool noodles also came about, and guys were having sword fights with them. I nearly got my head walloped by one. I felt the wind rush past my cheek as the guy swung and I was like 'Dude! Dude! Watch where you aim that thing!'.
At one point, me and my new mates went for ice cream. There's a flavour called Rainbow, which was perfect for us. Being the nerds we are, we asked for the Rainbow Dash ice cream, and I also had a scoop of white chocolate. The rainbow flavour is just vanilla dyed different colours, but for some reason tasted better than just your average everyday run-of-the-mill non-pony-related vanilla. Huh.
After much swimming, photos, tanning and fun, five o'clock rolled around and it was time for me to go. I said goodbye to my new friends, and Wendy and Geoff picked me up and took me home. Once there, it was just a quick half-hour pack-your-things, because we then started the two-hour drive to Phillip Island for the night.
Phillip island is a bit of land at the end of a great big bay. On it, there is a beach which wild penguins travel up every night to reach their burrows in the sand dunes, and for a fee you can go and watch them come up from the ocean. I still don't think they should make you pay for a natural occurance such as this, but there we go.
We rocked up at about twenty to eight and got a good spot on the benches in the viewing stand. There were so many tourists there, it was quite surprising. Lots of Asian people, of all ages and sizes. They made up the majority of the audience, I'd say.
As it got darker, the warden person came and did a little speech, saying 'Okay folks, stay in your seats the entire time please so that everyone can see. If you decide to go back up the walkway please do so quickly so you don't disturb other people's views.' And a spiel about the Little Penguins that would be coming up. They'd been going up to that beach for many many years, apparently. Their original species name was Fairy Penguins, but apparently that offended the gay community, so it was changed to Little Penguins. How ridiculous is that? The reason they were called Fairy Penguins is because they're so small, like fairies, not because they went around kissing penguins of the same gender. And by the gay community getting antsy about it, it just proves that they think of themselves as fairies. I had never correlated 'fairy' to 'a gay person' before. Never once have I been speaking to someone that's gay and thought 'Oh my God, what a fairy.'
But now, fairy has forever changed it's connotations. R.I.P little pixies with transluscent wings. You shall be sorely missed.
At one point we saw a seal darting around in the waves, and he was great to watch. Very graceful and elegant as he rolled in the surf. Part of me wondered if he'd figured out that there would be snacks soon. Fast food; a conveyer belt of penguins defenceless on the shoreline. It wouldn't have surprised me if he did work it out for himself - seals are a smart bunch.
But I think he thought he'd missed the show that night, as he was gone long before the penguins came up. But it was lovely to see him whilst he was darting all about.
Then eventually after darkness had descended, small white blobs appeared on the beach. Just a few, huddled in a group, waiting... checking that their paths were safe to get to a lump of rock halfway down the beach. When the coast was clear (haha, coast, on the beach, you get it?), they waited for one brave penguin to take the first step towards freedom... or their beds, in this case.
When one pengy took a tentative step, they all started hurridly waddling to the next spot of safety - the rock formation. Once there, they'd wait and check their safety proceedings again (Okay, fellas, this is it. Once we clear this bit, we're home free. So. Helmets on? Clips fastened? Flippers flexy? Feet webbed? Okay, boys, this is it. Let's make it count!) and they'd dart out in their little group and waddle/run for the hills. It was very cute to watch. Especially when a particularly chubby one took about five minutes to do the last stretch. We'd turn to look at another group for a few minutes, and then when we looked back this chubby-chubs was still going. Bless him. He was my favourite.
But undoubtedly, my favourite part of the evening was Wendy getting irate at the Asian tourists. Because despite the speech about staying in our seats, which was repeated in Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Maltese and 'Whatever language you speak-ese', they all stood up to get a better look. Kids ran down the steps to the front, parents ran down the steps after the kids, and we couldn't see a darned thing.
It started off with a quiet 'Excuse me, could you move please?'. Nothing happened. It then progressed to a louder 'Sorry, could you move?'. Nothing happened. Then came a 'Please, move' with added hand guestures (because everyone speaks Hand). Nothing happened.
I could see bubbles of frustration in Wendy's eyes. Her posture got more rigid, her guestures wider and her words sharper. I knew that this volcano was about to burst.
'You! *points finger* Yeah, you! In the green shirt! MOVE! Get out of the way!'
People eventually started moving, much to my disappointment. I'd never seen Wendy so worked up, and it was just hilarious to watch. Definitely one of the highlights of my trip.
So on Sunday, we drove back home, and from there Wendy and I went into the city. Our destination was the National Gallery, where all the art is. It's an impressive building with fountains outside, and one wall which perpetually has water running down it, like a waterfall.
We sped through the artwork, stopping only to admire a painting of the Greek god Pan, where my inner geek came out I went into a little speech about him. It was a very good painting though, depicting him as a satyr. I love all of the Greek-related stuff, and also stopped to look at some Greek vases like the ones in Disney's Hercules. It was very cool :)
We didn't hang around the paintings too much because we were looking for one in particular. And after twenty minutes of searching and getting lost, we found it. John Constable's The Quarters, which is a painting of a house in Alresford, my village. My nan had asked that I go see it for myself because it was in Melbourne, and I jest that as far as she's concerned, the only reason I have to be in Melly is to see this painting. Well Nan, mission accomplished! It's not as big as you'd expect, but it's beautifully done.
One of the steward-people kept giving Wendy and I funny looks because we were taking quite a few photos of it, so eventually I called him over and explained that I lived in the village where it was. He was quite interested, and let me ramble on about how the black criss-crosses in the bottom right corner were in fact part of a bridge that leads to a secluded island hidden behind the green foliage, and how there's a waterfall with stepping stones, and what the building behind the tree houses. When I mentioned that they'd repainted the dome of the house he asked me if I had repainted it. I mean, seriously? No I did not. Stupid man.
But I told him who the house was owned by, and that my grandparents used to polish the owner's silver, and that I went down there for bonfires for many years when I was small. I felt very important, telling this art-guy stuff about a painting. I felt like I should have been the steward. But then I acknowledge the fact that I nothing about every single other bit of work in the Gallery, and remind myself not to get too big-headed ;)
Oh, and Wendy has a Marilyn moment, as when walking over an air vent the wind sent her skirt a-flutter. She wanted me to write that in my blog. Rest assured that nothing was on show, and if it was on TV it would be under the U-viewing.
After we discovered the painting, our job was done. We left the Gallery, and seeing as it was still light, decided to do something else in the city. So we made our way to the tallest building in Australia, paid a fee, and ascended to the 88th floor. There are panoramic views of Melborne there, it's absolutely stunning. You can see for miles and miles, and Wendy showed me where many things were. I was able to see St Kilda, where Nic and I got our tattoos; Fitzroy, where we sat in the park and I tried out my new ukulele; Flinders St, the main train station, and many other things.
On the floor, there is a special section called 'The Edge', which is a glass box that extends three metres from the side of the building whilst you're in it. The floor is all icy-white, and there's tensional music playing as the box moves from the edge. It builds and builds, then hits a crescendo and the 'ice' shatters, leaving the floor and walls transparent, and you standing on nothing but four centimetres of glass 300+metres above the ground. Cool.
That's the plan at any rate. There's a 98% chance that they shall turn up, but being wild creatures, there's that little 2% that means they wont. And with my bad luck combined with Geoff's apparent bad luck, it could very well be the case that they won't. So, watch this space.
After that was booked, I didn't have much to do during the day. I carried on reading John Marsden's series of books on Wendy's kindle. Kindles are called irivers in Australia. Little bit of trivia for you.
The day before I started the second book, and Wednesday I started the third book. It's pretty tense stuff, and when Wendy got home from work and we took the dogs on a walk around the Retarding Basin (lol) I had a nice chat about it, going something like this...
Me - "This place is nice. Very lush. My friend Maddy would love it here."
Wendy - "Oh, is she a friend of yours?"
Me - "Yeah, we're very close. She loves nature and green stuff, so this place would be great. Hmm, how can I describe her? Oh! You know Robyn, from the Tomorrow series? She's like her. Petite but fiery, and is in touch with religion and the Earth. Just like Robyn."
Wendy - "Ah then she must be lovely. What book are you on now?"
Me - "The third one."
Wendy - "Oh, I cried at that book."
Me - "Oh God, someone dies don't they..."
I'm so sorry Maddy, I had no idea. At the end of the third book, Robyn sacrifices herself to save her friends. She blows herself up. So imagine for me reading that, when I'd knowingly compared the two of you. I felt awful.
Well anyway, Wendy and I went for a lovely long walk around a small lake with the dogs, just chatting and chilling and generally hanging out, which was great. It was a very scenic route, and very beautiful.
When we got back, Geoff was home from work, and we headed to Knox again, to a restaurant called Hog's Breath. Had a nice meal of parmagiana, though it wasn't as tasty as the one I'd had in the pub in Newstead. There were some very noisy guys in the corner of the room, and played a game of who could shout 'penis' the loudest. Then came a round of happy birthday, with one guy screaming at an astonishingly loud scream after every line. We were pretty disgusted that they didn't get kicked out, and filled out a 'Did we impress you?' card with a great fat NO.
I did add afterwards that the waitress had been lovely, because I didn't want her to feel bad. Not too sure what Geoff thought of that.
Thursday was another slow day. I read the fourth Tomorrow book, Darkness be my friend, but compared to the third it felt pretty slow, like a filler episode or a TV show. Nevertheless, it kept me occupied during the day and I did enjoy it. Wendy's iriver is a glorious thing. Makes me think about buying one myself - then at least I wouldn't have to cart around heavy paperbacks with me. But I'd only want it for travelling, like I'm doing now. I relish the feel of a page between my fingers, and the smell of a real book far too much to forgo them forever.
I then started the fifth one, Burning for revenge, but didn't get too far because the battery died. I have found the major flaw in irivers and kindles. Real books don't need batteries. So I entertained myself by writing some of this blog until Wendy got home.
Wendy and Geoff went on a long walk at the Retarding Basin (hee), and I stayed back so that they could enjoy some quality time. Don't want to impede on their together-time too much. Not that I'd be treated like a third wheel (far from it, actually), but I think couples should be allowed to do couply-things. And since my presence sort of means they don't, I should give them times to themselves.
Anyway, after they got back, we had dinner, and Wendy and I then went to a nearby shopping centre so that I could buy some pumps from K-Mart. A super good value shop, rather like Matalan. We were going to meet Wendy's friend in a bar in the city the next day, and I didn't have any nice shoes with me. So, off to K-mart!
I always like sitting in the passenger seat of someone else's car. If I were driving my own car, and they were in the passenger seat, they may not feel relaxed enough to sing along to the radio. But when they are in control of their own vehicle, they do. And I'm very glad that people do, because I love it when they start singing softly (or loudly) to tunes. You can just sink back into your chair a little and listen to your friends creating a little harmony. And lucky me, because I'm in the car with Wendy quite a bit, so have heard her sing a bit too. And she has a really really lovely singing voice.
So it was a nice ride to K-mart, with Wendy singing along every now and then, and I was treated to it again on the way home after buying my $12 pumps. Lucky me indeed.
Friday was a good day, because I was getting super excited about my Brony meetup the next day. So I was listening to feel-good music to help my happy mood extend for as long as possible, and I stumbled across this little gem on youtube. Don't pass over it just because it has a picture of a pony on it. It's drum-and-bass pure awesomeness. Crank your speakers up and try it out. You'll get an eargasm.
In addition to electro-music, I also got my ukulele out again. Since the iriver was out of fuel, and I forgot to ask where the charger was, I didn't have too many options on Friday. So I tuned up my uke, and figured out some more notes to the Pony theme song, played some You've got the Love, and Axel F. The uke is so much fun, it's a shame we don't see more of them available in the UK.
It turned out that the shoes I bought the day before were too small, despite the fact that I'd tried them on in the shop and they were fine. So on the way to the City, all dressed up nice-like in my 60's jumpsuit, Wendy and I stopped back in K-Mart and swapped the shoes. The shoes I replaced them with are exactly the same size, but they fit. How crazy that in the same shop, the same sized shoe, one pair fits and another doesn't. Describes the world we live in perfectly. Messed up. However, the new pumps were only $8 so I got a $4 refund. Woo!
Anyway, Wendy and I got to the Royal Saxon Hotel in Richmond, where we met her friend Linda and a bunch of her colleagues for drinks. It was a tad awkward because I felt especially young around these 27-50year olds, and as such I didn't say much. Just sipped my drinks quietly but looked interested in what people were saying. If they finished a sentence and had an expectant smile on their face, I'd grin and laugh a little. Otherwise, I'd smile and nod, and then have another sip of drink.
It was awkward when Wendy left to get us drinks, because I don't know Linda, and silence reigned for 90% of the time Wendy was gone. I think I felt like a bit of a tagalong, as Wendy was Linda's friend, and I was 'Wendy's cousin'. I'm extremely proud to be, of course, but it still was a bit of an awkward night.
Seeing as it was also the first 'night out' in Australia that I'd had, I was missing my friends terribly. I kept looking at my phone and wondering what Maddy and Bestie were up to - most probably lectures and the journey to college. Then maybe they were on a break between lectures, or just settling down for the first art session of the day. I was reminiscing about the times when we'd been on nights out, and their absence hit me pretty hard that night.
Eventually, because we'd missed dinner, our hunger made itself known, and we said our goodbye's and found a Domino's. My quiet mood had also been noticed by Wendy (I'd be surprised if anyone missed it), and we chatted about things over pizza. In our chats I discovered that a reason I'd been feeling a bit blue lately was because I was tired of making my own decisions. Since I came to Oz, even though I've not had the pressure of accommodation because I've been generously housed by lovely people, I've been handed lots of decisions.
"What do you want to do? Where would you like to go? Do you want to buy a car? Are you going to get a job?"
They're not questions with enormous amounts of pressure on them, but I just wanted someone to make them for me for a while. Then I could just cruise along doing whatever the other person wanted, and not have to worry about anything.
Well, Wendy gave me a huge big pep talk, and I felt much better. I just have to man up and take things in my stride. Making decisions is a part of life, and one I just have to deal with. And that's all there is to it. Welcome to the real world, Merlin.
On Saturday I had an awesome day planned. I found that there was a Melbourne Brony meetup at the beach, and decided to casually tag along. So I packed myself up a lunch, and Wendy and Geoff drove me to Chelsea.
I trekked towards a large group of people, and to my luck spotted pony tents, so I knew I was in the right place. I'd missed the group photo, but was in time to do the ice-breaker, where we all stood in a circle and said our name, and our favourite pony. There were around twenty-two people there, and if your fave pony was the same as someone else's, they'd give a cheer. I got two cheers - one for my pony, and one for saying 'I'm an English Brony', which was nice get get a 'woo!' for.
No one really remembered peoples' names, from the ice-breaker, but that was okay. If we were talking to someone we'd just ask them again. They're all such a friendly bunch, and being a Brony is just like being part of a community.
First things first though - you can't not go swimming as soon as you get to the beach. So I slapped some sunny on and raced to the water. Some bronies were already swimming, so I just drifted over and joined in their conversations. Got talking to two guys whilst out in the sea,and we pretty much stuck together for the rest of the day. We walked and got chips, then went and chilled with the others for a bit. We observed the start of the sand-castle building competition, in which all of three people competed, and then went swimming again.
I'd say I spent 90% of my time in the water, which was excellent. It was a picture postcard type beach - beautiful stretches of golden sand, water so blue that you could see your feet even when you were out to sea. It was tres cool.
Thinking about the beach, and beachy-type things, I have never seen so many legs until I came to Aus. Literally everyone has their legs out most of the time - I even saw an 80-year old in a bikini when I was in Brissy, which was incredible but very unsettling. I was impressed with that woman's self-confidence. I don't know if I could get my nan in a bikini at the beach. But then again, England really isn't the best place for beaches so that decreases my chances anyway.
Well we had a frisbee in the sea, and to start with about five of us were in a big circle. It was quite windy that day, so if we were throwing it to the right we never had a chance of catching it, which made it fun. We'd race each other to the disc, and take dives to claim our plastic prize. It got even funnerer when the rest of the bronies came and joined in, and there was around twenty or so all fighting for this frisbee.
And then out of nowhere, there appeared another frisbee. When the guy produced it, there were cries of Huzzah! The fun has been doubled! which had me in hysterics. I mean, all along I've known that the brony population is probably 70% guys (proven by the fact that out of twenty-five people, four of us were female) but to see them so happily saying stuff like 'Come on, everypony! Sand-castle building competition!' just gives me an incredulous giggle phase.
Some pool noodles also came about, and guys were having sword fights with them. I nearly got my head walloped by one. I felt the wind rush past my cheek as the guy swung and I was like 'Dude! Dude! Watch where you aim that thing!'.
At one point, me and my new mates went for ice cream. There's a flavour called Rainbow, which was perfect for us. Being the nerds we are, we asked for the Rainbow Dash ice cream, and I also had a scoop of white chocolate. The rainbow flavour is just vanilla dyed different colours, but for some reason tasted better than just your average everyday run-of-the-mill non-pony-related vanilla. Huh.
After much swimming, photos, tanning and fun, five o'clock rolled around and it was time for me to go. I said goodbye to my new friends, and Wendy and Geoff picked me up and took me home. Once there, it was just a quick half-hour pack-your-things, because we then started the two-hour drive to Phillip Island for the night.
Phillip island is a bit of land at the end of a great big bay. On it, there is a beach which wild penguins travel up every night to reach their burrows in the sand dunes, and for a fee you can go and watch them come up from the ocean. I still don't think they should make you pay for a natural occurance such as this, but there we go.
We rocked up at about twenty to eight and got a good spot on the benches in the viewing stand. There were so many tourists there, it was quite surprising. Lots of Asian people, of all ages and sizes. They made up the majority of the audience, I'd say.
As it got darker, the warden person came and did a little speech, saying 'Okay folks, stay in your seats the entire time please so that everyone can see. If you decide to go back up the walkway please do so quickly so you don't disturb other people's views.' And a spiel about the Little Penguins that would be coming up. They'd been going up to that beach for many many years, apparently. Their original species name was Fairy Penguins, but apparently that offended the gay community, so it was changed to Little Penguins. How ridiculous is that? The reason they were called Fairy Penguins is because they're so small, like fairies, not because they went around kissing penguins of the same gender. And by the gay community getting antsy about it, it just proves that they think of themselves as fairies. I had never correlated 'fairy' to 'a gay person' before. Never once have I been speaking to someone that's gay and thought 'Oh my God, what a fairy.'
But now, fairy has forever changed it's connotations. R.I.P little pixies with transluscent wings. You shall be sorely missed.
At one point we saw a seal darting around in the waves, and he was great to watch. Very graceful and elegant as he rolled in the surf. Part of me wondered if he'd figured out that there would be snacks soon. Fast food; a conveyer belt of penguins defenceless on the shoreline. It wouldn't have surprised me if he did work it out for himself - seals are a smart bunch.
But I think he thought he'd missed the show that night, as he was gone long before the penguins came up. But it was lovely to see him whilst he was darting all about.
Then eventually after darkness had descended, small white blobs appeared on the beach. Just a few, huddled in a group, waiting... checking that their paths were safe to get to a lump of rock halfway down the beach. When the coast was clear (haha, coast, on the beach, you get it?), they waited for one brave penguin to take the first step towards freedom... or their beds, in this case.
When one pengy took a tentative step, they all started hurridly waddling to the next spot of safety - the rock formation. Once there, they'd wait and check their safety proceedings again (Okay, fellas, this is it. Once we clear this bit, we're home free. So. Helmets on? Clips fastened? Flippers flexy? Feet webbed? Okay, boys, this is it. Let's make it count!) and they'd dart out in their little group and waddle/run for the hills. It was very cute to watch. Especially when a particularly chubby one took about five minutes to do the last stretch. We'd turn to look at another group for a few minutes, and then when we looked back this chubby-chubs was still going. Bless him. He was my favourite.
But undoubtedly, my favourite part of the evening was Wendy getting irate at the Asian tourists. Because despite the speech about staying in our seats, which was repeated in Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Maltese and 'Whatever language you speak-ese', they all stood up to get a better look. Kids ran down the steps to the front, parents ran down the steps after the kids, and we couldn't see a darned thing.
It started off with a quiet 'Excuse me, could you move please?'. Nothing happened. It then progressed to a louder 'Sorry, could you move?'. Nothing happened. Then came a 'Please, move' with added hand guestures (because everyone speaks Hand). Nothing happened.
I could see bubbles of frustration in Wendy's eyes. Her posture got more rigid, her guestures wider and her words sharper. I knew that this volcano was about to burst.
'You! *points finger* Yeah, you! In the green shirt! MOVE! Get out of the way!'
People eventually started moving, much to my disappointment. I'd never seen Wendy so worked up, and it was just hilarious to watch. Definitely one of the highlights of my trip.
So on Sunday, we drove back home, and from there Wendy and I went into the city. Our destination was the National Gallery, where all the art is. It's an impressive building with fountains outside, and one wall which perpetually has water running down it, like a waterfall.
We sped through the artwork, stopping only to admire a painting of the Greek god Pan, where my inner geek came out I went into a little speech about him. It was a very good painting though, depicting him as a satyr. I love all of the Greek-related stuff, and also stopped to look at some Greek vases like the ones in Disney's Hercules. It was very cool :)
We didn't hang around the paintings too much because we were looking for one in particular. And after twenty minutes of searching and getting lost, we found it. John Constable's The Quarters, which is a painting of a house in Alresford, my village. My nan had asked that I go see it for myself because it was in Melbourne, and I jest that as far as she's concerned, the only reason I have to be in Melly is to see this painting. Well Nan, mission accomplished! It's not as big as you'd expect, but it's beautifully done.
One of the steward-people kept giving Wendy and I funny looks because we were taking quite a few photos of it, so eventually I called him over and explained that I lived in the village where it was. He was quite interested, and let me ramble on about how the black criss-crosses in the bottom right corner were in fact part of a bridge that leads to a secluded island hidden behind the green foliage, and how there's a waterfall with stepping stones, and what the building behind the tree houses. When I mentioned that they'd repainted the dome of the house he asked me if I had repainted it. I mean, seriously? No I did not. Stupid man.
But I told him who the house was owned by, and that my grandparents used to polish the owner's silver, and that I went down there for bonfires for many years when I was small. I felt very important, telling this art-guy stuff about a painting. I felt like I should have been the steward. But then I acknowledge the fact that I nothing about every single other bit of work in the Gallery, and remind myself not to get too big-headed ;)
Oh, and Wendy has a Marilyn moment, as when walking over an air vent the wind sent her skirt a-flutter. She wanted me to write that in my blog. Rest assured that nothing was on show, and if it was on TV it would be under the U-viewing.
After we discovered the painting, our job was done. We left the Gallery, and seeing as it was still light, decided to do something else in the city. So we made our way to the tallest building in Australia, paid a fee, and ascended to the 88th floor. There are panoramic views of Melborne there, it's absolutely stunning. You can see for miles and miles, and Wendy showed me where many things were. I was able to see St Kilda, where Nic and I got our tattoos; Fitzroy, where we sat in the park and I tried out my new ukulele; Flinders St, the main train station, and many other things.
On the floor, there is a special section called 'The Edge', which is a glass box that extends three metres from the side of the building whilst you're in it. The floor is all icy-white, and there's tensional music playing as the box moves from the edge. It builds and builds, then hits a crescendo and the 'ice' shatters, leaving the floor and walls transparent, and you standing on nothing but four centimetres of glass 300+metres above the ground. Cool.
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