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.
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