A Short History of Nearly Everything (Sort of)

So I decided that maybe it was time for a blog.

I always half wanted to do it when I was travelling, but I think the cliches of it probably stopped me. "Hey yeah, look at me, TRAVELLING. Look at all the places I am and what I'm doing that you couldn't give two shits about! How fantastic and self-indulgent! Did I mention that I'm TRAVELLING?".

But seeing as now I'm not really travelling and have set down in one place for a bit, it seems all the more acceptable. So let's bring you up to speed.

I left June 13th, hungover from the Summer Ball and shattered from the 2 hours of sleep that I got thanks to Pete and his bright ideas. When I look back on it now that morning is unbelievably comedic. I snotted all over my old house, my friends and Amy's car. All the funnier was Vicky, who was worse than me, and she was only going for 2 and a half months. Girls, pfff.

Anyway, I'll cut out all the boring, insignificant details of the journey - Singapore, very humid, nice airport, we looked like shit - and skip to the actual destination: Sydney. Woo. I'll never forget getting outside that airport at 6am, thinking I was going to catch pneumonia while we waited in stupid anticipation of that stupid bloody bus. One of us waiting with the bags while the other one went to go and ask person after person where we could catch it. Vicky wearing my ski socks as gloves. Me looking like I was embarking on a hike through the Snowy Mountains. I have never been so grateful to be in a hot shower in all my life.

The next four days I barely remember. I know we did the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge: there are photos so it must be true. We looked like shit, I know that much. I looked homeless and Vic looked like a paedo. A good start. What I do know is, there was lots of rain. So much rain that we immediately decided to fuck off and get to some sunshine. Which meant a ridiculously early flight to Townsville. Townsville. Hah, it lived up to its name.

This is what followed:
Townsville - Magnetic Island - Cairns - Kuranda - Airlie Beach - Whitsundays - 1770 - Hervey Bay - Fraser Island - Noosa - Brisbane - Surfers Paradise - Byron Bay - Sydney

I'm not going to take you through every minute, insignificant detail but instead wrap it up at best I can. If you've made it this far.

Favourite Places:
Yes, I'm a ginormous cliched travller, but there's a reason that every person who does the East Coast goes to Fraser and the Whitsundays. It's because, funnily enough, they are stunning. Look:

If I could handle the constant rocking of boat-life, equipped with a goon hangover (which I can't, by the way), I would've packed it all in and fled the good life for a penniless existence as a deckhand. I'm wildly exaggerating - they're not penniless - but it was that beautiful that it would all seem worth it. Turns out, I'm just not the boating type. What a shock.

And Fraser. Ah, Fraser. I had to camp. And not Reading Festival 'oh, what a lark' type camping. Like camping camping. On a sand island. Which is inhabited by dingoes. You know, the rabid dog that bites you and eats your shit. I actually thought the dingoes were adorable. My favourite was a little wonky one that couldn't walk properly. Anyway, Fraser and it's beauty:

See, beautiful.

Aside from these two tourist hot-spots, I had a bit of a thing for Byron Bay. It was overrun with festival-goers when we were there, they'd all come in for Splendour and it was how I realised black was back in fashion, but the atmosphere was fucking brilliant and I loved how laid-back it was.

Worst Places:

Surfer's Paradise is a shithole. I'm not even going to apologise for saying it. I hated it. I hated every second I was there, apart from bowling with Julian. That bit was fun. Because I was inside and could imagine I was anywhere else. I'm not going to elaborate. It was just shit.

Brisbane is overrated. Not much to do aside from South Bank which is alright. I had my fake graduation there where I went around and annoyed people until they gave me their hats which I could then doff like a gigantic pleb. It was fun. That was the highlight of Brisbane.

Highlights:

- Meeting the equivalent of Brady Bunch on Airlie Beach and spontaneously deciding to spend two nights sleeping in their closet instead of leaving for 1770.

- The Frenchies, the first two solid gold people we met on our trip. Plus Dutchie and Israeli.

- The night of the American Navy: two jerks, two girls, one massive argument. On another note, there were so many men that me and Vic didn't know where to look.

- Every hungover day in Cairns. It was all worth it for that bed, the balcony, those drinking games and the stories. Campervan, anyone?

- Walking up Whitehaven Beach on the Whitsundays. I listened to Deadmau5 and it was one of those incredibly pretentious, wanky holiday-music moments. I loved it.

- Noahs. I couldn't hack it anymore in the end, but it felt like a dirty, scabbier version of home.

- 1770: HamMocks, good films and that gorgeous beach.

Things I've read:

- The Rules of Attraction

- Desert Flower

- Gangs

- One million trashy magazines

Currently reading:

- A Short History of Nearly Everything

- 1984

- The Corner

- Atonement

I'm very indecisive.

Films I wish I'd never seen:

- The Proposal

- My Sister's Keeper

- Never Back Down

- Goal! The Movie

- Harry Potter. The flirting was great, mind.

Expanding my film education has been a fucking blast while I've been here in Sydney. I saw some brilliant stuff; Control, Volver, Almost Famous, Magnolia, The Life Aquatic, Inglorious Basterds, Into the Wild, The Squid and the Whale, This is England, The Wrestler, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Vivre Sa Vie, it's been sweet.

And now, the current plan of attack. Still in Sydney, lived in Bondi for about five, six weeks before I moved to an apartment in Pyrmont, which is just behind Darling Harbour. There's this walk I do every day over the Pyrmont Bridge which, when I get a camera, I can't wait to get a good snap of. Lots of big buildings, some water, a monorail. Very picturesque, hey. I do work experience at Time Out Sydney (a challenge but fun), and work at a bar called The Argyle in The Rocks (actually wicked fun. Harks back to my sleeping pattern at Lloyds but it's dosh. I have to learn cocktails. So far, so sucky). On the way to work I go past the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. Every single time, I'm like 'oh yeah, I'm in Australia', and I get excited like a massive doofus. I swear I'm a walking talking cliche.

Got more work experience in October for a film magazine, save up until (hopefully!) January when me and Krista Klump want to get a car and drive down to Melbourne, Adelaide, and do the West coast. I cannot fucking wait. I love being on the move. It's tiring and your mood swings can be fucking badass (just ask Vicky), but there's nothing like seeing new places every single week, meeting new people and all that shit that makes travellers want to do it forever.

Then, New Zealand. If I can. I dunno when, but that's the goal. I don't want to waste the opportunity while I'm over this side of the world.

It's a long bloody flight home.