Part 14 - This is the End

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* We’ve now been home for nearly 10 months and I’ve put off finishing this blog, so for the sake of getting this off my guilty conscience…here is our last week and a half in the Land of Oz.



Woke up with my knees still pretty red and swollen, but significantly better than how they looked yesterday (which was to say: angry and purple). And as they were just swollen and not truly painful, I decided today would be another solid day f surfing, jellyfish be damned.



Today was a slightly strange day at the beach, as a solid 45% of the ladies in the crowd were topless and a solid 75% of the men had opted to go speedo or less. Lot of skin at Byron Bay is what I’m saying. We had another fantastic day in the sun with a ton of surfing. Unfortunately no turtle to swim with today, although Alison does a pretty solid turtle impression, so swimming with her was just as close. That night we made corn and hot dogs, and drank…a lot. We had a new kind of beer that we were finally able to drink cold as our campground had a fridge for use. The beer, called Arvo, came in red and black bottles…according to the box, there was some kind of battle at the brewery to decide which type (black or red) was better. Ian liked the black, I preferred red. Naturally I beat Ian up for being so completely and totally wrong about his choice of alcohol.



That night we called a van from the Cheeky Monkey to pick us up and take us there. Apparently these vans will pick you up for free and take you to the bar, so we took full advantage of that. It was a fairly typical bar, nothing you haven’t seen back home. That is, until, they had a sex position contest featuring various nationalities from around the bar. Essentially, two people at a time go up and re-create as many sex positions (not literally) as they can in a minute. I must say…it was hilarious but also rather frustrating. The four of us came up with about 20 positions that could have easily been done, but the German girls who won only did like 10…we could have won that so incredibly easy. And by “we”, I mean Ian and myself.



The next day we left Byron Bay, and drove to Coff’s Harbor where we had an absolutely delicious lunch. I ate the mango chutney chicken wrap. Ceanna got pooped on by a bird. We managed to get wifi, and I learned that Jenna had to have her appendix taken out (even her appendix can’t stand to hang out with her anymore…kidding sister) and learned more about the election (Obama won). We then drove a ridiculous amount and proceeded to make a tasty little pasta supper on the riverbanks of a little town. We watched these two massive pelicans bully around the little seagulls hanging around (they probably had it coming).



The next morning we FINALLY entered Sydney, but we first decided to drive to the Blue Mountains on the outskirts of the city, as we had been told that they are “grand, wonderful, SPECTACULAR even!” They were pretty meh. We couldn’t find a free place to tent in time, so we ended up at the Formula 1 Hotel in Sydney, which is an incredibly bright and beautiful city.



That night I had a crazy/cool dream (I know, I know, no one cares about hearing about other peoples’ dreams…I’ll keep it short). In it, every movie I had ever seen was playing simultaneously (that’s a lot of movies), and I was able to interact with the action. Next I saw my friends and myself in 15 years. It was pretty much how you’d expect…Kellen insanely wealthy, Malcolm drinking excessively, and Alex in a loving domestic partnership with Mitch.



We decided to drive to Olympic Park to make breakfast, and wandered around the various Olympic venues from hen Sydney had hosted twelve years previously. It was pretty dope. The girls then went shopping, while Ian and I went to a pub to have a couple beers and try to figure out how cricket works (fun fact: we didn’t).



That night we walked to a place called Huge Bar Pizza, which apparently has the best pizza in town. We all got kicked out for wearing flip-flops. It was the only time we got kicked out of anywhere for the entire trip, so I guess it was necessary? Ian then flirted with the yogurt shop girl after supper (we did not get a discount).



The next day we went to Paddington Market which, for the few guys that may still be reading this, was exactly as boring as it sounds. That afternoon was the Sydney Opera House tour…and I won't lie it was pretty underwhelming (is it just me, or did this blog take a real nosedive into depression?). We all agreed that it was probably an architectural marvel back in the 70s, but there are just so many buildings that eclipse it now. The outside is spectacular, but the inside is just sorta meh.



That night, after an incident involving wine, we had a delicious Thai supper at Spice I Am, which is apparently the best Thai place in Sydney but is apparently not owned by a Dr. Seuss character.



The next day the girls headed out on their own, and Ian and I walked to the Quay Wharf. We checked out the rocks, watched a crazy street performer escape from chains and hit on elderly gentleman, then crossed the Sydney Harbor Bridge because why not? We checked out Luna Park, home of the creepiest, biggest Frenchman’s face that you have to walk under to get into the park (you can Google it if you want…don’t worry I’ll wait). That night we ate at Ripples, a restaurant right near the harbor, underneath the bridge. It was 20 dollars for fish and chips, and let me tell you…they were not even close to the best fish and chips we had had so far on the trip. We walked back over the bridge and had drinks at the Glenmore Hotel, where we met Dan. Dan was…interesting. Ask Ian; he got to know him better than I did.



The next day…BONDI BEACH. We hopped a bus and had a very good breakfast right near the beach. Ian and I had been waiting for this day for a long time…we were finally going to be able to surf again. We went to the closest surf shop to rent some boards, where we encountered the smuggest Australian we had met so far. We asked to rent boards for the full day and he looked us up and down before he said: “Ya…the waves are pretty intense out here fellas. Tell you what…I’ll just rent ‘em to ya for two hours…you can come back after that and rent ‘em for the full day if ya want to after that. A’right mates?”



The nerve. The audacity. The unmitigated gall. This pompous ass didn’t think Ian and I could handle Bondi waves. Was he unaware of my adventures with the Gnarloo? Of Ian’s prodigious wave-riding abilities? We would show him.



We proceeded to get absolutely destroyed by the waves. Hammered. Thrashed. Literally demolished. We were no match. We had no idea. Ian’s first attempt…he was immediately swallowed by this massive fifteen-foot wave, which proceeded to spit him and his board a solid thirty feet forward and another ten feet up. I was pretty sure the board was moving fast enough to decapitate him. My first ride was no better…you remember that scene from the Fellowship of the Ring? Where Liv Tyler mumbles some Elvish and turns the waves into some kind of weird horse-waves, which proceed to smash the Nazgul downstream? It was pretty much like that, only minus Liv Tyler (thank God for that, because that would have been embarrassing to wipe out in front of her).



We eventually found a little sandbar that allowed us some slightly more manageable waves…I think we each caught like two? We brought the boards back after two hours…heads hung in defeat, trying to avoid the smirking, knowing gaze of the fat Aussie surf dude who knew we couldn’t handle Bondi.



We cheered up during lunchtime, because we found a rather sweet deal for some pizza. As we ate, we watched this crazy girl with a tiny surfboard run back and forth towards the ocean, clutching her mini-board, hurling insults at the ocean. I kid you not; she was yelling racial epithets at the waves. I can’t say I blame her.



We then did the Bondi to Bronte cliff walk, which is this little path cut into the cliffs near Bondi beach. It allows you a pretty amazing view of the beach and ocean, and there are some little hidden coves where surfers (the good ones that were probably sponsored) were riding monster waves and avoiding crashing into the reef.



After bussing back to the hotel, we just sort of crushed a few boxes of wine and then went to get late night McDonald’s at King’s Cross (sorta the Whyte Ave of Sydney). In the elevator, we met a dude from Belfast, Ireland. His name was, I kid you not, Johnny Kitchen. Johnny. F*#&ing. Kitchen. How insanely Irish is that name? That’s the kind of name that says…this is a bloke whose pop is in the IRA, brushes his teeth with Guinness, and turns every hang-over into a hang-on. Johnny was an awesome guy…he was extremely high and going to get kebabs with his mates…after which time he was going to get high again. Small world though…Johnny actually met some people we knew from Red Deer over his many years of travel. Ian and I saw him about half an hour later, cussing out a food vendor in rapid, wasted, Irish slang.



Airport the next morning…the flight to Melbourne was quite rocky, and allowed for a screaming baby symphony, which was fantastic. We met up with my Uncle Mike (my dad’s cousin), who showed us the cool parts of Melbourne. He cooked us some sausages and we drove to the top of Mt. Dandenong, on the slopes of which is a fancy winery (Domain Chandon Winery, if we’re getting specific). We were introduced to Aussie Rules Football, which is absolutely insane and violent and awesome. We ate some delicious burgers and fed raw meat to the kookaburras. They are some crazy, weird birds. If you laugh at them they did the kookaburra chatter (go ahead…Youtube it…I’ll wait again). We also drank Victoria Bitter, which is WAY BETTER THAN FIJI BITTER, IAN!



After a delicious brekky, we walked downtown and saw an arcade, Federation Square, and the train station. We rented some bikes and rode to St. Kilda’s beach and the docklands. We walked through the Crown Hotel, a very swanky inn, and got rather over-refreshed with some perfectly grilled steaks and wine. We watched Ian and Ceanna’s skydiving videos that night and they were pretty crazy (and not just because I was drunk).



Today we got to drive the Great Ocean Road with Mike and the Norwegian students from his university. After a beautiful drive through the rainforest, you eventually emerge out onto a road that runs directly along the ocean. We stopped at the Gibson Steps, where there were some crazy waves, and then again at Shipwreck Cove, where there were even crazier waves. We read the story of the hungover captain; he was a guy who doomed, then saved, and then doomed once more his entire crew during a violent storm. He probably would have avoided the catastrophe had he not been recovering from a solid night of partying (they were partying because they had finally spotted land after months at sea…oh the irony!). The twelve apostles was the last stop before turning around…basically these massive cliffs that stand alone, as the waves have eroded their connection to the mainland…pretty cool.



The next morning Ceanna and Ian left…Ceanna for New Zealand, and Ian for home. We took the train into town and walked around Queen Victoria Market, looking for gifts for people back home (better late than never). It was easily the most massive market I have ever seen, it consumed like five city blocks. This day was also the most heartbreaking of the trip…not because Ian (my hetero life partner) had left…but because I found out that I could not bring a didgeridoo home for my dad. The large ones shatter easily in the plane’s cargo hold, and the little ones don’t make the didgeridoo noise. The cost to mail it home would’ve doubled the price. So…sorry pops. We finished the day with some gelato by the river…how romantic (puke).



The last day, Mike drove us in and we caught our flight home. Mercifully, the plane back to North America only had half its seats filled, so we could stretch out across like three seats to get a solid snooze in. There was also this incredibly cool baby with a mullet on the ride home…he never once cried. Rock on, mullet baby. We had a fairly lengthy layover in LA, so after consulting with Pablo the overly-helpful LAX customer service rep, we got a bus in to Culver City Movie Theater and watched Skyfall, the newest James Bond outing. It was sweet…unlimited popcorn refills God bless you, fat Americans, god bless you all. We managed to score back seats on our Air Canada flight home, but whoopsie-daisie the seats don’t actually recline (thanks for nothing, AC).



And at last, after five long weeks of travel, and ten long months between blog entries, we have reached the end. Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed it a little bit. I promise to do another if I ever get out of Canada again.



Cheers, mates.

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