Stop eleven to thirteen

So, it has been three weeks since I last entered the blogosphere... (Oh yeah, got to love those 'buzz' words!)

Melbourne...Two hours there and I was in love. Small. Cosy. Arty. A bit dirty - everything you want in a lover really.

I never wanted to get into this silly "Melbourne vs. Sydney" debate as both cities have plus and minus points. For you Sydneysiders, a small piece of advice - stop whingeing about public transport. From the 10 or so trains I caught in Melbourne, two were COMPLETELY CANCELLED - resulting in an HOUR of waiting, six were delayed - from 5 to 25mins and all trains stop at EVERY stop. There are no express trains in Melbourne and the same goes for trams. So, every trip is the maximum time possible. Also there is a distinct lack of pubs. Also, beer is only sold in two sizes, Pints and Pots. Pints are too small and Pints are too big. I WANT A SCHOONER!

To counter balance that, Sydney is generally full of pretentious wankers who will not look or speak to socially unless you tick all the appropraite social boxes, eg. semi-mullet/bouffant hair, appropariately sloganed t-shirt, asymmetrical piercings etc. Although Melbournians are as guilty sometimes, I have found people to be incredibly friendly - even the cool ones. Plus, everything is tiny and hard to find which lends itself to hidden treasures, like $1 dresses in op shop bargain bins. My kind of bliss.

Five hundred photos of the street art ensued and the soles of my Converse wearing down about half an inch in the process. There was even a small club behind some bins that were playing Billie Holiday and serving alcohol as someone brought it in throughout the night on a trolley. Walls were made of astroturf! *sighs*

The main purpose of stopping in Melbourne was to find a short term job though, which after a week was proving to be damned near impossible at the moment considering the current financial-economic-electronic-spasmodic-crisis-recession-depression. So, two weeks (with a stop in Warrnabool in between. Nothing to note there really. It rained for five days and I hung out woth my 92 year old grandfather) of belly button pondering (i.e resume sending) over and I was heading up to Moulamein to attend my very first Confest.

Confest is a "Conference Festival" started as an 'alternative living' festival in the 1970's. Think reiki treatments, rampant nudity, vegan curries and enormous joints and you are half way there. I could get to the festival via public transport but the problem was a two day wait for a bus back, so I replied to a Gumtree ad asking for help in return for a lift and back. "Great!" I thought and made my way over to meet Ra (a.k.a Ian) to see what needed to be done.

After discovering that Ra/Ian had a suspended license, I could not drive and our two very stoned accomplices and their two children were unable to drive either (although six year old Georgia did offer) we hunted down more fellow Confest associates and found two drivers at 12:30pm. Our new favourite person Chia (a.k.a Brenden) offered to drive although he didn't actually HAVE a license and Tricia (Actual real name) had consumed an excessive amount of Bicardi Breezers and unsure if we would survive, we headed off. I slept almost instantly, squashed in between boxes of pirated DVDs. I had been awake for nearly 24 hours though and wisely missed the many "hilarious" mishaps of the night, mainly the difficulty everyone had with either staying on the road or avoiding the real and imagined police officers following the van.

We arrived early and after some debate as to who would pay and who would hide under blankets - we were there. It emerged fairly quickly that 'work' was considered bourgeois and being entertaining or chopping up the weed was far more appropriate I settled into two days of drug fuelled oblivion. The end of the world did happen and the entire world caught on fire (all in my mind of course) but I survived.

I awoke on day three and realised that I was missing out on a worthwhile experience and set up a facepainting stall. Hundreds of impatient children followed. I attended workshops on tarot, spiritual chanelling, self sabotage, yoga, feldenkrais, life drawing and all manner of things, ranging from the plain bizarre to the unexpectedly interesting. I did pass on the group nude hugs and genital appreciation workshops though. Maybe I will be ready for that next time. *grins*

It really was a great experience and there were a lack of the many social boundaries that we are used to. People were very frank about wanted to have sex with you which I was none to comfortable about but people also spoke to you so freely and naturally in general. Just a "Hello, I'm ___" and off you went. I also found the communal showers a great experience. *Laughs* Now before I hear accusations about perverted vouyerism, let me explain. If you feel uncomfortable or self concious about your body - find a situation where you can look at a lot of other naked bodies. Trust me, you will feel better. There is always someone bigger, hairier and wobblier than you and you will feel like a supermodel compared to them!

Although my $20 ebay mattress is starting to seem like a bad budget purchase - I had a wonderful time and before I knew it I had to go home. Skipping a potentially deathly trip home, I made friends with a lovely (and sober) graphic designer who dropped me off at Echuca and I took the conservative option of the train back to Melbourne.

Now, here I am in Geelong with my Aunt and her partner Peter, waiting on my tax return and planning my next move to Tasmania.

A quick note; According to Ian/Ra and his conspiracy theory crew - Prince William is the Antichrist. This can be proven by the fact that there is a photo of him with a lamb, holding its back foot. You see - cloven feet have been associated with Satan for millenia; sheep have cloven feet; Prince William has held a sheep. It's a perfect theory! *laughs*

Just remember - If it sounds weird, it probably is.

Hope everyone is Rocking the Casbah.

XO Kate

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