The value of a good bed is priceless, I have learned.
In the past eight months I have slept on everything from a bed of sandstone to a fluffy, luxurious hotel mattress. And let me tell you, when I now find a good bed, I know it.
This is why I've been so happy with the last two hostels I've stayed in: Scotty's Beach House at Mission Beach (click on the link) and The Serpent in Cairns. Both hostels have super, ultra comfy beds (for a hostel that is). And both hostels seem to actually care whether their guests are comfortable and having a good time. This is unfortunately rather rare in a hostel.
Scotty's was probably the best hostel I've stayed in on any continent or in any country. Not only were the beds good, the pool was big, deep and clean; there were plenty of couches, hammocks, and lounges to hang out on; and the kitchen and Internet rooms were open 24/7. Staff even show you to your room and make sure it's OK at check-in. I've never seen that before in a hostel. So, if you're ever in Mission Beach, Scotty's is most definitely the place to stay.
And if anyone tries to tell you that there's nothing to do in Mission Beach?
Well, they're right. That's kind of what makes lying in the hammock all day so much guilt-free fun.
I've finally made it to Cairns last night. Very nice so far! I must now get my bum off the chair in front of the computer and out onto the streets to explore.
Ciao.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Every day is Sunday here
For some reason, I don't really feel like blogging today. It just seems like an awful lot of work and at the moment I feel like an awful lot of lazy. But no, I must persevere.
It's been almost a week since I stepped onto a yacht in Airlie Beach in anticipation of two days at sea in the Whitsunday Islands.
Let's see if I can sum up what it was like briefly: GORGEOUS.
The Whitsunday group of 74 islands are some of Australia's most famous and most breathtaking. Surrounded by warm teal waters, full of pristine beaches and nestled right next to the Great Barrier Reef; life doesn't get much better than it is in the Whitsundays.
The picture behind my blog title is at Whitehaven Beach, one of the most photographed locations in Oz. I'm sure I don't need to explain why.
There was also a group of nine other travellers who were doing the sailing bit as part of an 18-day trip up Oz's east coast. It seems this group would rather have had a private boat than share with the rest of us. Let's just say "friendly" was not their strongest character trait (though a couple of them were all right). Aside from their group wanting to go to bed at 9 p.m. and the rest of us wanting to stay up and play cards/drinking games, we mostly got on OK. Anyway, we won't talk about that anymore. I will, however, warn you to think twice if you're ever contemplating booking a Let's Trek Australia tour. Unless of course you like going to bed at 9 every night on holidays.
Gripes aside, I had a beautiful time in the Whitsundays. It was the most time I've ever spent on a boat but I managed not to get seasick even once. Oddly enough, I found that drinking a beer made me feel better the couple of times I was a bit queasy. Homer Simpson would have been so proud of me.
Tonight I'm in the city of Townsville (a lovely city, by the way) before taking off to Mission Beach tomorrow, arriving finally in Cairns on Wednesday. It may have taken me six months to get this far from Sydney, but I made it!
P.S. Almost forgot my exciting news: I've seen a real koala out in the wilderness. At long last! Here's a pic of him.
I was a wee bit apprehensive about getting on a boat with 15 strangers (plus two crew) for such a long period of time but for the most part I had nothing to worry about. The first guy I met was a very friendly Brazilian named Mateus. This guy was a laugh from start to finish on the trip. I also had the pleasure of getting to know two lovely Swiss people (Carina and Stephane), Farquan from Scotland, and a nice Danish couple.
There was also a group of nine other travellers who were doing the sailing bit as part of an 18-day trip up Oz's east coast. It seems this group would rather have had a private boat than share with the rest of us. Let's just say "friendly" was not their strongest character trait (though a couple of them were all right). Aside from their group wanting to go to bed at 9 p.m. and the rest of us wanting to stay up and play cards/drinking games, we mostly got on OK. Anyway, we won't talk about that anymore. I will, however, warn you to think twice if you're ever contemplating booking a Let's Trek Australia tour. Unless of course you like going to bed at 9 every night on holidays.
Gripes aside, I had a beautiful time in the Whitsundays. It was the most time I've ever spent on a boat but I managed not to get seasick even once. Oddly enough, I found that drinking a beer made me feel better the couple of times I was a bit queasy. Homer Simpson would have been so proud of me.
The trip highlight had to be snorkelling in the reefs around two of the islands. It was like being suddenly part of an IMAX film. I'm now kicking myself for not shelling out the money for an underwater disposable camera. But that's OK, I have my memories.
Tonight I'm in the city of Townsville (a lovely city, by the way) before taking off to Mission Beach tomorrow, arriving finally in Cairns on Wednesday. It may have taken me six months to get this far from Sydney, but I made it!
P.S. Almost forgot my exciting news: I've seen a real koala out in the wilderness. At long last! Here's a pic of him.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Paradise found
It's only 7 a.m. but I already feel sick to my stomach.
We've just finished loading up our massive Toyota jeep with camping equipment, backpacks and food for 9 people over the upcoming three days on Fraser Island.
Next we are corralled into a room and shown videos about all the horrible things that can (and will!) happen to us on the island if we don't obey all the rules. No driving on sand dunes. No using 4WD on pavement. No driving over 60 km/h. No feeding the dingoes. And on and on.
It's an awful lot of information to absorb in just 30 minutes. To make matters worse, I've been nominated as our group's first driver from the hostel to the ferry and then down the wild, sand roads of Fraser. It's my credit card that's been registered on the vehicle insurance form. This brings another rule: no speeding to and from the ferry. If we get a ticket from the police, it'll be issued directly to me.
So, I'm put behind the wheel and away we go. Keep in mind, this is only my second time ever driving in Australia and on the left-hand side of the road, and my first time ever driving a 4WD. Lucky me that I have the lives of eight passenger in my hands.
Koala's Hervey Bay, our hostel, has divided 27 backpackers into three groups of nine. Somehow, and I can only ponder why, I'm the sole male in my group. It's me, three German girls, two Irish girls, and three British girls. For some men this would be an incredible stroke of luck. For others, it is. . .not such a big deal.
Anyway, I'm the Official Boy of the group and that's the way it is. This means I not only get to do much of the driving, but also plenty of heavy lifting, packing and repacking the vehicle and. . . my favourite task. . . chasing dingoes away from the campsite at dinnertime! 
Driving on Fraser doesn't seem so bad at first. The roads are more like a loose gravel than full-on sand as we leave the barge landing. But within five minutes we are bouncing all over the place on a sandy laneway through the forest. It reminds me of driving down a very snowy street in the middle of a Canadian blizzard. Who says being from the Prairies doesn't pay after all?
The next couple of days bring their fair share of stories to tell. There was the road we got stuck on deep in the middle of the forest on our way to setting up camp the first night. We managed to get ourselves unstuck quickly, only to witness another car get stuck right after us. Much digging and car-pushing ensued as we helped the middle-aged man and his wife out of a jam. Somehow we made it to the campsite just as dusk set in. Phew.
The next day we get stuck on the beach. Again it is late in the afternoon, we are on our way to the campsite and high tide is quickly approaching. Water laps against the rear wheel well as we dig and push some more. Luckily, a group of Aussie fishermen stop and offer to tow us out. Being towed is technically against the long list of rules but then so is getting salt water anywhere on the undercarriage of the vehicle! We have no choice but to do it. It's literally sink or swim.
Just as the Aussies are about to tow us out, one of them had a look at our wheels. "Hey, this thing isn't in four-wheel drive," he said. "Hehehe, oops," I said sheepishly. It seems one of the other groups from the hostel decided to have a bit of fun with us by switching the wheels from 4WD to 2WD when we were away from the jeep (this can be done from the outside).
Don't worry, we got them back later for this.
Somehow me made it through both nights and days on the island and saw so many beautiful things. . . crystal clear freshwater lakes, strange sand formations, leaping lizzards, hungry dingoes. This was roughing it in the truest sense. And I wouldn't have had it any other way.
Beautiful sand formations along the eastern beaches of Fraser.
A few of the girls and I take a dip in the Champagne Pools. They are rockpools just next to the ocean that fill up at high tide. The crashing waves look like champagne overflowing from the bottle as the cork is opened. The water even bubbles like champagne when the big waves hit.
The Wreck of the Maheno: this ship crashed into Fraser's shores in 1935 due to gale force winds and a fierce storm. It hasn't been moved since. We visited it in the early morning when the skies were overcast and there was plenty of mist on the beach. Spooky, indeed.
Lake Mackenzie: arguably Fraser's favourite beach. The waters are crystal clear and clean as can be. An amazing way to wash off the filth of camping!
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Wet and wild
As you can imagine, much of life in Australia revolves around sun, sand and surf. If you live in any of Australia's five largest cities on the mainland (Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Perth, Darwin) you are probably never more than 20 kilometres or so from the beach. Especially if you live in Sydney where there are something like a dozen beaches within the city limits.
As a result, many of the pictures I've taken in the last seven months involve the beach and/or water in some way or another. I think growing up in a landlocked province in Western Canada has only increased my fascination with the beach, to boot. Look at me in this picture. I'm jumping for joy. Shameless.
Here are a few more photos from recent wet-water pursuits.
A glorious sunset on Moreton Island. A couple of friends and I spent a Saturday night camping in the woods. This is the sunset we were treated to that evening. Couldn't have asked for it be much better.
Oddur holds up his big catch: a starfish we found while strolling the beaches of Moreton Island, which you'll note, span miles and miles of ground.
The resort I worked at is in the far distance, near where the land juts out further to sea.
The Tornado: one of the most "death-defying" slides at Wet 'n Wild, a waterslide park south of Brisbane that I visited last weekend.
This ride was cool! You sit three or four to a tube and come flying down a chute before being hurled into the round part of the slide (the tornado) and out the other end. It's all over very quickly but well worth the wait in line.
A couple of kids are shot out the end of the tube.
Washed out the end of tornado for the grand finale.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Whale Bone a-go-go (or How I Spent My Last Days at Tangalooma)
"You went home so early last night," my co-worker Lance said to me on Friday morning, my last day at the resort. "You should have stayed out with us. We went to the Flensing Deck and hung out there until 3 or 4 in the morning."
"What is that some kind of new nightclub?" I said, bursting into a laugh.
You know you live and work somewhere really special when the hottest place to party is at a place called the Flensing Deck.
But this is how life is on Moreton Island where you've got but one bar and one pub on the entire island (Note: the two are separated by a distance of about 15 km.)
The Flensing Deck, in case you were wondering, is a hollowed-out concrete building in which, once upon a time, giant humpback whales were gutted, deboned and otherwise mangled during the height of the Australian whaling industry in the 1950s-60s. The building now serves as a badminton and basketball court for resort guests by day and a place to party for staff when the main bar shuts down. Funny that, isn't it?
Well, I never made it to the Flensing Deck on Thursday night but I sure had a good time anyway. My co-workers and I from the shop went out for dinner at the Steakhouse where we enjoyed fine slabs of cow, chicken and fish, along with a few very tasty desserts.
"It's so nice having a meal that's actually prepared especially for you and not 180 of your 'closest' friends," said Lance, referring (not-too-kindly) to our usual meals in the horrific resort staff room. He is full of witty remarks that boy.
We all had a really good time drinking down at the bar and laughing for a couple of hours after dinner. It was the first time we all went out like that and I now wish we'd have done it more. And as Lance noted, I never got too crazy. I was at home by midnight and in bed by one. I had to open the shop at 6:45 a.m. after all!
My last week at Tangalooma went by in a flash. Between doing laundry, packing my bags, cleaning my room, oh, and working 37 hours, I didn't have much time to twiddle my thumbs. Of course, I'm not complaining. I think life is often at its best during periods of change when the anticipation of future events keeps you feeling relatively carefree.
I'm now back in Brisbane for a few days before heading far, far north up the Queensland coast to the city of Cairns (pronounced Cans, as in beer cans). I figure it's going to take at least three weeks to get there with all the stops I plan on making. Queensland is truly blessed with natural beauty, beaches and a whole bunch of other good things, such as the Great Barrier Reef. I'm so excited about snorkelling up there that it isn't even funny.
Speaking of, I tried snorkelling for the first time ever with two new friends about two weeks ago. We spent a night camping on Moreton Island about 2 km from the resort, just off the beach from a landmark known as the Wrecks. The Wrecks is a group of 15 ships that were deliberately sunken in order to create a safe haven for small boats that drop anchor there when the tide is rough. The sealife like it too, making it a great spot for fishing, snorkelling and diving.
Snorkelling was one of the most relaxing experiences I've ever had. All you can hear is the sound of your breathing as you float from wreck to wreck and look at all of the amazing fish swimming right in front of your face.
I've got some great pictures of all the things I've been doing in the last month or so but they'll have to wait until the next post. I wasn't organized enough today to get dressed, find my camera AND make it to the library by 10:15 a.m.
My new friend Oddur will be joining me for the first few days as I travel northward. A native Brisbanite, Oddur has been very good about showing me around the city and taking me to places I would otherwise never know about or get the chance to see. Last weekend we visited Mt. Warning, an absolutely beautiful and ancient volcano in the middle of lush rainforest about two hours south of Brisbane.
Yesterday Oddur, his brother and I went to a waterslide park on the Gold Coast near Surfers Paradise called Wet 'n Wild. It's essentially the watersliding version of Disneyland. What a blast! I hadn't been watersliding in years since my last visit to the West Edmonton Mall. Pictures of some of the slides to come too.
Well, I'm now running out of time on computer. But rest assured, I'll be posting again a lot sooner than I have been lately.
Thanks for reading.
"What is that some kind of new nightclub?" I said, bursting into a laugh.
You know you live and work somewhere really special when the hottest place to party is at a place called the Flensing Deck.
But this is how life is on Moreton Island where you've got but one bar and one pub on the entire island (Note: the two are separated by a distance of about 15 km.)
The Flensing Deck, in case you were wondering, is a hollowed-out concrete building in which, once upon a time, giant humpback whales were gutted, deboned and otherwise mangled during the height of the Australian whaling industry in the 1950s-60s. The building now serves as a badminton and basketball court for resort guests by day and a place to party for staff when the main bar shuts down. Funny that, isn't it?
Well, I never made it to the Flensing Deck on Thursday night but I sure had a good time anyway. My co-workers and I from the shop went out for dinner at the Steakhouse where we enjoyed fine slabs of cow, chicken and fish, along with a few very tasty desserts.
"It's so nice having a meal that's actually prepared especially for you and not 180 of your 'closest' friends," said Lance, referring (not-too-kindly) to our usual meals in the horrific resort staff room. He is full of witty remarks that boy.
We all had a really good time drinking down at the bar and laughing for a couple of hours after dinner. It was the first time we all went out like that and I now wish we'd have done it more. And as Lance noted, I never got too crazy. I was at home by midnight and in bed by one. I had to open the shop at 6:45 a.m. after all!
My last week at Tangalooma went by in a flash. Between doing laundry, packing my bags, cleaning my room, oh, and working 37 hours, I didn't have much time to twiddle my thumbs. Of course, I'm not complaining. I think life is often at its best during periods of change when the anticipation of future events keeps you feeling relatively carefree.
I'm now back in Brisbane for a few days before heading far, far north up the Queensland coast to the city of Cairns (pronounced Cans, as in beer cans). I figure it's going to take at least three weeks to get there with all the stops I plan on making. Queensland is truly blessed with natural beauty, beaches and a whole bunch of other good things, such as the Great Barrier Reef. I'm so excited about snorkelling up there that it isn't even funny.
Speaking of, I tried snorkelling for the first time ever with two new friends about two weeks ago. We spent a night camping on Moreton Island about 2 km from the resort, just off the beach from a landmark known as the Wrecks. The Wrecks is a group of 15 ships that were deliberately sunken in order to create a safe haven for small boats that drop anchor there when the tide is rough. The sealife like it too, making it a great spot for fishing, snorkelling and diving.
Snorkelling was one of the most relaxing experiences I've ever had. All you can hear is the sound of your breathing as you float from wreck to wreck and look at all of the amazing fish swimming right in front of your face.
I've got some great pictures of all the things I've been doing in the last month or so but they'll have to wait until the next post. I wasn't organized enough today to get dressed, find my camera AND make it to the library by 10:15 a.m.
My new friend Oddur will be joining me for the first few days as I travel northward. A native Brisbanite, Oddur has been very good about showing me around the city and taking me to places I would otherwise never know about or get the chance to see. Last weekend we visited Mt. Warning, an absolutely beautiful and ancient volcano in the middle of lush rainforest about two hours south of Brisbane.
Yesterday Oddur, his brother and I went to a waterslide park on the Gold Coast near Surfers Paradise called Wet 'n Wild. It's essentially the watersliding version of Disneyland. What a blast! I hadn't been watersliding in years since my last visit to the West Edmonton Mall. Pictures of some of the slides to come too.
Well, I'm now running out of time on computer. But rest assured, I'll be posting again a lot sooner than I have been lately.
Thanks for reading.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Daddy Roo
Ahh, how the days fly past and the months roll on.
It's been weeks since I've written so much as a word on the blog. There are lots of reasons for this but I won't bore you with the details. As it stands, I've got exactly 27 minutes to finish this entry, continue checking emails and do some other miscellaneous Internet stuff. Then I've got to buy a long distance phone card, get some groceries (not to mention a bit of alcohol) and make my way to the ferry back to the island. The prices for food and booze are shocking on the island so I prefer to do a bit of stocking up when I'm in the city. The joys of living on a remote, nearly empty island are truly endless. I don't mean that in a completely sarcastic way.
I cannot believe that I never posted this picture sooner. Not sure what I was thinking. I was oh-so-pleased about making friends with this kangaroo when I visited Brisbane's wildlife sanctuary a couple of months ago. This guy here was posed so perfectly and relaxing in the sun when I found him. He wasn't scared or intimidated when I got right close to take the picture and he even let me pat him on the head a couple of times (kangaroos in the wild are not this tame, mind you).
So, I still haven't seen a roo in nature (or any koalas) but at least I got this cool photo. 
I was lucky enough to visit Noosa, a resort town north of Brisbane this weekend, with a couple of new friends. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful drive to and from. We thought maybe we'd catch a glimpse of some koalas sleeping in the eucalypts near the beach but no such luck. Maybe next time.
This here is another favourite photo from the resort: It's taken underneath the jetty (i.e. wharf, pier) on a day with a very low tide but unusually rocky sea. The different shades of water happen based on how deep the ocean floor is beneath. The shallow parts reflect the sand and take on the greeny/aqua shade while the deeper parts are more of a classic ocean blue. It's beautiful!
My time is sadly running out. This wasn't much of a blog entry but it was better than nothing.
In a few more weeks I'm going to quit my job on the island and head back to the mainland for further travels north. I'm very excited about getting back on the road and there are so many things ahead of me. Rest assured, the blog will also regain a bit of vitality once I set off.
Toodles.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Aussie-isms
My oh my, is it time for some new additions to my not-so-definitive guide to Australian vocab and slang, or what?
I started this part of the blog months ago with every intention to create a lengthy list for my linguistically inclined friends and confidantes. And now I've left you out in the cold.
Working with so many Australians on Moreton Island has given me the chance to pick up quite a few new words, many of them to do with the workplace itself.
So, without further ado, here are a bunch of new words you've probably never heard before and will likely never use!
The workplace:
Smoke-o: a short break given to employees for the purpose of inhaling a cigarette or two. Of course, one does not actually have to smoke during smoke-o. I first heard this term when I was working on the construction site in Brisbane. It took me a day or two to figure out what in tarnation the other guys meant when they kept saying things like, "Youze goin' on smoke-o at 10:30, mate?" In the case of the construction site, most guys did indeed have a ciggie or two during smoke-o. (I just ate an apple or orange and drank some water.) Hell, half of them smoked as they worked. It's very "en vogue" to do that in the construction industry.
In keeping with the theme of labour/trades, Aussies have a number of endearing terms to refer to the different types of tradesmen and labourers. Here are a few:
Chippy: a carpenter (as in wood chips, I guess)
Sparky: an electrician, for obvious reasons
Bricky: a bricklayer . . .( are you catching onto a trend yet?)
Yardy: a yardsman
Dishy: a dishwasher. The politically correct term for such a person is "kitchen hand," of course. That being said, no one ever actually calls them kitchen hands at the resort. They're just the dishies.
By this time, you might have begun to notice that Australians love to shorten words. This is probably the most defining characteristic of Australian English. If there is a way to shorten a word, Aussies will find it. My boss Madonna (but remember that everyone just calls her "Donsy") says it's because Aussies are just plain lazy. I don't know about that, but they do have a laidback approach to language.
Even the shortest of names gets shortened further by Aussies. Example: Adam becomes "Adsy" to his friends. Sharon or Sheila becomes "Shazza" or "Shaz." Darren becomes "Dazza." Strangely enough, most Australians call me by my full name. Perhaps that's because Tyler isn't a common name over here. I'm sure once they discover that they can just call me "Ty", they'll be onto it like vegemite on bread. (Make that peanut butter on toast for you North Americans.)
* * * * *
Food:
Tomato sauce: Us North Americans know this one better as "ketchup." If you say ketchup here, you usually get a "Pardon?" and then have to say it again. It's better to just ask for tomato sauce (and that's toe-mah-toe not toe-may-toe). And you must ask. They don't just hand it out with the fries over here.
Choc top: just about anything that is covered with a layer of chocolate on top is a "choc top" in Oz. That goes for ice-cream cones, doughnuts, pastry puffs, etc.
Meat pie: Australians have a major fascination/addiction to the "meat pie", a small, pastry-crusted pie stuffed with any combination of meat and vegetables (usually beef or chicken). I think we'd call these a "pot pie" back in Canada. Meat pies are common street food over here, akin to a slice of pizza or a donair (or gyro or whatever you want to call it). But I've also served them at swanky corporate cocktail parties and luncheons.
Sultana: this fancy name refers to that most unglamorous of fruits: the raisin.
Capsicum: another fancy name for something we Canadians simplistically call the "red pepper."
Rockmelon: I couldn't figure out what this one was for the longest time until one day I finally saw it for sale at the grocery store. It's cantaloupe!
Paw paw: another exotic fruit by a different name. Paw paw, which tastes like a combination of mango and banana, is the same fruit as the papaya. At least I think it is.
Drink:
Short black: known as an espresso in the rest of the world, a short black is what you order when you need a quick caffeine jolt. It is, after all, a short, little cup of coffee.
Long black: known as an americano to Canadians (and, presumably, Americans), this is a coffee that's half-water with a shot or two of espresso mixed in.
Lemonade: In Oz, this drink is the same as what we would call Sprite. That is, lemon-lime soda. In fact, if you ask for lemonade you'll usually get Sprite or some other brand of similar taste.
Lemon Squash: This is what Canucks call lemonade, i.e. a more pulpy, tangy version of Sprite.
Pot: a small glass of beer that is more or less equal to a half-pint.
Middy: same thing as a pot, different name. At first I thought the Aussies were calling it a "mini" so that's what I ordered the first few times.
Schooner: Fans of Boston Pizza will be disappointed. Why? Because in Canada a schooner has come to mean a huge glass of beer (about three pints worth). In Australia, it's a very average-sized beer and smaller than a pint.
To be continued. . . .
I started this part of the blog months ago with every intention to create a lengthy list for my linguistically inclined friends and confidantes. And now I've left you out in the cold.
Working with so many Australians on Moreton Island has given me the chance to pick up quite a few new words, many of them to do with the workplace itself.
So, without further ado, here are a bunch of new words you've probably never heard before and will likely never use!
The workplace:
Smoke-o: a short break given to employees for the purpose of inhaling a cigarette or two. Of course, one does not actually have to smoke during smoke-o. I first heard this term when I was working on the construction site in Brisbane. It took me a day or two to figure out what in tarnation the other guys meant when they kept saying things like, "Youze goin' on smoke-o at 10:30, mate?" In the case of the construction site, most guys did indeed have a ciggie or two during smoke-o. (I just ate an apple or orange and drank some water.) Hell, half of them smoked as they worked. It's very "en vogue" to do that in the construction industry.
In keeping with the theme of labour/trades, Aussies have a number of endearing terms to refer to the different types of tradesmen and labourers. Here are a few:
Chippy: a carpenter (as in wood chips, I guess)
Sparky: an electrician, for obvious reasons
Bricky: a bricklayer . . .( are you catching onto a trend yet?)
Yardy: a yardsman
Dishy: a dishwasher. The politically correct term for such a person is "kitchen hand," of course. That being said, no one ever actually calls them kitchen hands at the resort. They're just the dishies.
By this time, you might have begun to notice that Australians love to shorten words. This is probably the most defining characteristic of Australian English. If there is a way to shorten a word, Aussies will find it. My boss Madonna (but remember that everyone just calls her "Donsy") says it's because Aussies are just plain lazy. I don't know about that, but they do have a laidback approach to language.
Even the shortest of names gets shortened further by Aussies. Example: Adam becomes "Adsy" to his friends. Sharon or Sheila becomes "Shazza" or "Shaz." Darren becomes "Dazza." Strangely enough, most Australians call me by my full name. Perhaps that's because Tyler isn't a common name over here. I'm sure once they discover that they can just call me "Ty", they'll be onto it like vegemite on bread. (Make that peanut butter on toast for you North Americans.)
* * * * *
Food:
Tomato sauce: Us North Americans know this one better as "ketchup." If you say ketchup here, you usually get a "Pardon?" and then have to say it again. It's better to just ask for tomato sauce (and that's toe-mah-toe not toe-may-toe). And you must ask. They don't just hand it out with the fries over here.
Choc top: just about anything that is covered with a layer of chocolate on top is a "choc top" in Oz. That goes for ice-cream cones, doughnuts, pastry puffs, etc.
Meat pie: Australians have a major fascination/addiction to the "meat pie", a small, pastry-crusted pie stuffed with any combination of meat and vegetables (usually beef or chicken). I think we'd call these a "pot pie" back in Canada. Meat pies are common street food over here, akin to a slice of pizza or a donair (or gyro or whatever you want to call it). But I've also served them at swanky corporate cocktail parties and luncheons.
Sultana: this fancy name refers to that most unglamorous of fruits: the raisin.
Capsicum: another fancy name for something we Canadians simplistically call the "red pepper."
Rockmelon: I couldn't figure out what this one was for the longest time until one day I finally saw it for sale at the grocery store. It's cantaloupe!
Paw paw: another exotic fruit by a different name. Paw paw, which tastes like a combination of mango and banana, is the same fruit as the papaya. At least I think it is.
Drink:
Short black: known as an espresso in the rest of the world, a short black is what you order when you need a quick caffeine jolt. It is, after all, a short, little cup of coffee.
Long black: known as an americano to Canadians (and, presumably, Americans), this is a coffee that's half-water with a shot or two of espresso mixed in.
Lemonade: In Oz, this drink is the same as what we would call Sprite. That is, lemon-lime soda. In fact, if you ask for lemonade you'll usually get Sprite or some other brand of similar taste.
Lemon Squash: This is what Canucks call lemonade, i.e. a more pulpy, tangy version of Sprite.
Pot: a small glass of beer that is more or less equal to a half-pint.
Middy: same thing as a pot, different name. At first I thought the Aussies were calling it a "mini" so that's what I ordered the first few times.
Schooner: Fans of Boston Pizza will be disappointed. Why? Because in Canada a schooner has come to mean a huge glass of beer (about three pints worth). In Australia, it's a very average-sized beer and smaller than a pint.
To be continued. . . .
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Knock, knock, who's there?
Sometimes there are periods in life when nothing seems to be going right despite your best intentions.
We’ve all had those times: your car breaks down; you drop $20 on the floor in a dark nightclub and never see it again; your boyfriend/girlfriend/partner breaks up with you when you least expect it.
It’s during those times that we are least likely to appreciate the power of coincidences or even to notice life’s pleasant twists when they happen to us. This is definitely a shame.
Work and money were a struggle during most of June and July for me. My hours at the agency in Brisbane were slashed as winter settled in and the work dried up. Then, what was supposed to be a 30-40 hour per week job on Moreton Island turned out to be a 15-20 hour per week job. The reason? The managers of the resort’s food and beverage department (in their infinite wisdom and expertise) hired far more people than needed at this time of year. It was tough at times to look on the bright side. To remember that I was living on a pristine island just steps from the beach. Sometimes you can’t focus on the good when worries about money, love, and family are gnawing at the back of your mind.
Then something happened and things started looking up for me. I was placed in the resort gift/grocery shop as extra help for three days about two weeks ago. Suddenly, I heard rumours of a permanent casual position in the shop. I figured I would apply but didn’t expect to get the job, being as new to the resort as I am. Just when I had given up on getting the job and started planning to quit the resort and move further north, the shop manager came up to me one Wednesday night and said, “Hey, did you hear the news from your department?”
No, I said.
“You’ve got the job in the shop. You start next Tuesday.”
What?!
So, here I am. Still living on Moreton Island and finally getting decent hours. The shop manager, Madonna (known simply to all as “Donsy”), is a wonderful, cheerful woman who always has a tale to tell. She makes what could be a very boring job plenty of fun.
This morning I’m in Brisbane for the day. It’s time to catch up on a few errands and rid myself of a minor bout of Island Fever. Speaking of which, I no longer am sure whether I prefer life in the city to life in the country or vice versa. Lately the city seems dirty, noisy and overcrowded. What is with all these traffic signals? We don’t even have paved roads on Moreton Island, let alone crosswalks. But that is a bit of a tangent.
I decided to pay a visit to the YMCA this morning. I haven’t done a proper workout with weights in four months and was long overdue. I was disappointed that the gym was kind of small and the equipment sort of old. But the man at the front desk was very friendly and very familiar to me, for some strange reason. I told him I was going to think about it and might come back later to use the gym.
I wandered a few blocks down the street to another gym that is supposed to be larger, newer and nicer.
Then I hit another roadblock: the gym is closed on weekends. What kind of gym in the middle of a city of 1.5 million people does not open on weekends? Apparently the one I was at. Brisbane is a strange city in this way. Just after I arrived in the city at 8 p.m. last night, a few restaurants were already getting ready to close in the city’s nightclub district. The ones that were open were either half-empty or of the fast-food variety. And this on a warm, calm night. But, I digress once more.
So I went back to the Y. It would be cheaper anyway.
I started to tell the man at the front desk about my little escapade and gripe a wee bit about Brisbane’s strange business hours. That’s when he said, “Oh, I know. I’m from Canada. It’s different over there.”
I told him I was Canadian as well. And then something dawned on me. I said, “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Quan,” he said. And then we both realized it at the same moment.
“Did you used to live in Vancouver?” I broke into a smile.
Yep. He did. Right down the hall from me in the summer of 2001. We were both taking summer classes at UBC. Coincidentally, this was the same place I met my good friend Andreas, whom I later shared an apartment with in Vancouver for more than a year.
Wild!
Quan and I spent about 20 minutes catching up on where we were at in life and how the others we lived in the dorm with are doing. He’s now in his last year of medical school here in Brisbane and is dating a local girl. It was so good to see someone from home and talk about familiar people and places. To boot, Quan gave me a free entry to the gym.
I remember a story my dad told me years ago after he went on a trip to China. There he was shopping in a department store in Beijing when he ran into a woman he knew from high school in Regina, Sask. I just never thought I would have similar experience, at least not in Australia.
* * *
All right. I’ve blabbed on for long enough now. It’s time to show you more pictures from
Moreton!
A humback whale gives us a "wave". This was during a whale watching tour I did last weekend at the resort. We were lucky enough to have a calm, sunny day, which made it easier to see the whales. Too bad they were kind of shy that day. I think we only got one breech (a jump out of the water).
My fearless housemate Sam lifts a big, nasty Diamond Python out of our way as a group of us hiked across Moreton Island last week. This snake had stretched himself right across the road and was enjoying some sunbathing when we stumbled upon him. Sam said that the snake was pretty harmless and slow-moving at this time of year when food is scarce. And this was only a python, not a venomous snake. Still, I was a bit freaked out. I assume that any and all snakes can and will kill me in this country. There are some seriously lethal ones and you just never know!
The 20-km roundtrip hike wasn't as hard as we thought it would be but we were pretty much ready for bed when we got back to the resort. The snake added a bit of excitement to the tail end of the trip.
Voila, a shot of the dolphins at long last! These two guys are eagerly waiting to be fed by a staff member (top right) and a guest (in the yellow). A photographer (not me) is waiting to snap a photo of the feeding on the left.
We’ve all had those times: your car breaks down; you drop $20 on the floor in a dark nightclub and never see it again; your boyfriend/girlfriend/partner breaks up with you when you least expect it.
It’s during those times that we are least likely to appreciate the power of coincidences or even to notice life’s pleasant twists when they happen to us. This is definitely a shame.
Work and money were a struggle during most of June and July for me. My hours at the agency in Brisbane were slashed as winter settled in and the work dried up. Then, what was supposed to be a 30-40 hour per week job on Moreton Island turned out to be a 15-20 hour per week job. The reason? The managers of the resort’s food and beverage department (in their infinite wisdom and expertise) hired far more people than needed at this time of year. It was tough at times to look on the bright side. To remember that I was living on a pristine island just steps from the beach. Sometimes you can’t focus on the good when worries about money, love, and family are gnawing at the back of your mind.
Then something happened and things started looking up for me. I was placed in the resort gift/grocery shop as extra help for three days about two weeks ago. Suddenly, I heard rumours of a permanent casual position in the shop. I figured I would apply but didn’t expect to get the job, being as new to the resort as I am. Just when I had given up on getting the job and started planning to quit the resort and move further north, the shop manager came up to me one Wednesday night and said, “Hey, did you hear the news from your department?”
No, I said.
“You’ve got the job in the shop. You start next Tuesday.”
What?!
So, here I am. Still living on Moreton Island and finally getting decent hours. The shop manager, Madonna (known simply to all as “Donsy”), is a wonderful, cheerful woman who always has a tale to tell. She makes what could be a very boring job plenty of fun.
This morning I’m in Brisbane for the day. It’s time to catch up on a few errands and rid myself of a minor bout of Island Fever. Speaking of which, I no longer am sure whether I prefer life in the city to life in the country or vice versa. Lately the city seems dirty, noisy and overcrowded. What is with all these traffic signals? We don’t even have paved roads on Moreton Island, let alone crosswalks. But that is a bit of a tangent.
I decided to pay a visit to the YMCA this morning. I haven’t done a proper workout with weights in four months and was long overdue. I was disappointed that the gym was kind of small and the equipment sort of old. But the man at the front desk was very friendly and very familiar to me, for some strange reason. I told him I was going to think about it and might come back later to use the gym.
I wandered a few blocks down the street to another gym that is supposed to be larger, newer and nicer.
Then I hit another roadblock: the gym is closed on weekends. What kind of gym in the middle of a city of 1.5 million people does not open on weekends? Apparently the one I was at. Brisbane is a strange city in this way. Just after I arrived in the city at 8 p.m. last night, a few restaurants were already getting ready to close in the city’s nightclub district. The ones that were open were either half-empty or of the fast-food variety. And this on a warm, calm night. But, I digress once more.
So I went back to the Y. It would be cheaper anyway.
I started to tell the man at the front desk about my little escapade and gripe a wee bit about Brisbane’s strange business hours. That’s when he said, “Oh, I know. I’m from Canada. It’s different over there.”
I told him I was Canadian as well. And then something dawned on me. I said, “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Quan,” he said. And then we both realized it at the same moment.
“Did you used to live in Vancouver?” I broke into a smile.
Yep. He did. Right down the hall from me in the summer of 2001. We were both taking summer classes at UBC. Coincidentally, this was the same place I met my good friend Andreas, whom I later shared an apartment with in Vancouver for more than a year.
Wild!
Quan and I spent about 20 minutes catching up on where we were at in life and how the others we lived in the dorm with are doing. He’s now in his last year of medical school here in Brisbane and is dating a local girl. It was so good to see someone from home and talk about familiar people and places. To boot, Quan gave me a free entry to the gym.
I remember a story my dad told me years ago after he went on a trip to China. There he was shopping in a department store in Beijing when he ran into a woman he knew from high school in Regina, Sask. I just never thought I would have similar experience, at least not in Australia.
* * *
All right. I’ve blabbed on for long enough now. It’s time to show you more pictures from
Moreton!
A humback whale gives us a "wave". This was during a whale watching tour I did last weekend at the resort. We were lucky enough to have a calm, sunny day, which made it easier to see the whales. Too bad they were kind of shy that day. I think we only got one breech (a jump out of the water).
My fearless housemate Sam lifts a big, nasty Diamond Python out of our way as a group of us hiked across Moreton Island last week. This snake had stretched himself right across the road and was enjoying some sunbathing when we stumbled upon him. Sam said that the snake was pretty harmless and slow-moving at this time of year when food is scarce. And this was only a python, not a venomous snake. Still, I was a bit freaked out. I assume that any and all snakes can and will kill me in this country. There are some seriously lethal ones and you just never know!
The 20-km roundtrip hike wasn't as hard as we thought it would be but we were pretty much ready for bed when we got back to the resort. The snake added a bit of excitement to the tail end of the trip.
Voila, a shot of the dolphins at long last! These two guys are eagerly waiting to be fed by a staff member (top right) and a guest (in the yellow). A photographer (not me) is waiting to snap a photo of the feeding on the left.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Sand in my knickers, sand in my hair, sand everywhere
As the old saying goes, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. So is my current relationship to the Internet, marginalized as I am to pricey ten minute increments of computer usage on the island. Today I’m in the public library in Brisbane with a full three hours of computer time to use for F-R-E-E on my day off.
Ahhh, is it good to be back!
It’s hard even to know where to begin or what to tell you first about life on Moreton Island. I come up with dozens of little anecdotes when I’m sitting in my room at night far away from any computer. Now I’m struggling to come up with just one. It figures, I suppose.
Ahhh, is it good to be back!
It’s hard even to know where to begin or what to tell you first about life on Moreton Island. I come up with dozens of little anecdotes when I’m sitting in my room at night far away from any computer. Now I’m struggling to come up with just one. It figures, I suppose.
For starters, here you have a shot of a wee slice of the resort. On the left is the Tangalooma massage hut where guests can work out the kinks in their backs while on holiday. I haven't tried this yet but lord knows I'd like to.
I would be terribly neglectful if I didn’t tell you about all the fantastic wildlife one gets to see and hear on the island. Every morning begins with the jarring calls of the kookaburra in the wee hours before dawn breaks. If you’ve never heard a kookaburra’s call – and chances are that you haven’t since the bird is only native to Oz – imagine what sort of sound a wild banshee would make. That’s more or less it. The kookaburra is loud, proud and he’s going to let everyone know about it. Still, they are pretty cute and cuddly as far as birds go. You couldn’t hate one if you tried.
Later in the morning the pelicans gather on the beach for a feeding by one of the resort’s marine biologists (that’s them in the photo at the top of my blog). These winged giants are good fun to watch as they try to beat out the other birds in a quest for who-can-catch-the-most-fish. Often there are as many as 14 pelicans and scores of pied cormorants (a smaller, goose-like bird) playing the game.
A short stroll down the beach toward what’s known as the Wrecks (pictured at left), a group of deliberately sunken ships just off the shore of the island, and you are likely to see giant turtles, more fish and maybe even a dolphin swimming around. The Wrecks have created an artificial reef and are now a popular spot for snorkelling, diving, fishing and kayaking.
On my second day on Moreton I went for a short run down the beach. I spotted a small mound in the distance but didn’t think much of it until I was about 50 feet away when something told me to have a closer look. It turned out the “mound” was a massive sea turtle beached on the sand. Unfortunately, I think he might have been dead. There were no signs of breathing or movement and his eyes were closed. A shame, but my first time seeing such a creature in person.
Every afternoon about an hour before sunset is when hundreds of screeching lorikeets make their way to the tops of the palm trees and settle in for the night. These birds are fast, colourful and shockingly loud. Did I mention loud?
The highlight of the day for most guests happens every night at 6 p.m. That’s right, it’s dolphin-feeding time. A pod of 8-10 dolphins turns up with amazing accuracy, frolicking and waiting patiently before the dinner bell rings. Five “feeders” form five lanes and then make their way into the water to say hello and give the dolphins a bite before the guests enter. The dolphins even team up in the same pairings and at the same lanes each night. I’ve even heard stories of dolphins bringing “gifts”, such as a half-eaten tuna fish, for the feeders as a way of saying thank you for the food the dolphins get in return. When the feeders have tried to return the tuna fish to the dolphins, they won’t accept or eat it. It’s unbelievable how smart they are.
For the first week I only caught a few short glimpses of the dolphins, usually while rushing off to a shift in the restaurant. Then I had a stroke of luck while talking to one of the staff photographers. She mentioned that they needed another casual photographer to help with the dolphin photos on Sunday and Monday nights. I went down to the photo shop the next day and was soon in business!
I’ve now done photos three times. This involves treading right into the water and standing behind the dolphins as they’re fed. Often the dolphins swim right past my legs as they’re waiting for the fish and you’d just swear they have little smiles on their faces.
On my first night we had a total of 14 dolphins: 10 regulars and four party-crashers. The four intruders were males from another pod and one of them was apparently looking to mate with Tinkerbell, one of the regular females. Poor Tinkerbell couldn’t get a moment to herself as the intruder male swam back and forth behind her for the entire feeding. He even swam up and tried to put distance between me and Tinkerbell when he thought I was getting too close at one point. It was incredible!
Another highlight was the trip I took to the Tangalooma Desert two weeks ago. Moreton Island is the world’s third largest sand island (the other two are also in Oz). The island is made of about 98% sand and 2% rock. Most of that sand is covered in trees; however, a few areas, like the desert, have no trees at all. Instead there is literally nothing but soft, white sand on about 10 acres.
The resort takes guests on “safaris” to the desert (staff can go for free if space permits) to try their hand at sand tobogganing.
The premise is simple: grab a piece of smooth board, add a bit of surfboard wax to one side, climb up a 150-foot sand dune, and slide right on back down. Being Canadian, I like to think of myself as a bit of a tobogganing aficionado. Sand tobogganing was certainly a new one for the repertoire.
Of course, there is much more that I could tell you but this entry is getting very long and I don’t want to put anyone to sleep. I’ll save a few more stories for the next round.
Of course, there is much more that I could tell you but this entry is getting very long and I don’t want to put anyone to sleep. I’ll save a few more stories for the next round.
P.S. I miss you.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Five days in
Ahoy, mates, I write to the world from Moreton Island, that isle in the sea stumbled upon by Captain Cook way back in 1770.
It was he, after all, that gave the island its name, calling it Morton Island after some rich fancy-pants back in England. Everything was going along swimmingly until some yokel got the name wrong on an official document and Moreton Island it has been ever since.
Life at the resort is pretty sweet. The weather was Superb with a captial S for the first three days. Sunshine, not a cloud in the sky and highs of 22 degrees. Not bad for the middle of "winter" (even if winter is a total sham in Australia).
I've been very busy training at all of the resort's restaurants and bars: there are six in total. It's slightly hectic but I'm happy to be busy. Life here resembles living in a small town in many ways. There are about 100-150 staff so it doesn't take too long to get to know all the faces. Life is also a bit like high school here. We eat all our meals in a cafeteria. As one of the "new guys" I have been stared at and quizzed multiple times. I think I should just start wearing a stamp that says "Made in Canada" on my forehead. That being said, most everyone has been very friendly and tried to make me feel at home.
Anyhow, I must run as the clock on this public computer is ticking with a hunger.
More to come as I get the chance.
It was he, after all, that gave the island its name, calling it Morton Island after some rich fancy-pants back in England. Everything was going along swimmingly until some yokel got the name wrong on an official document and Moreton Island it has been ever since.
Life at the resort is pretty sweet. The weather was Superb with a captial S for the first three days. Sunshine, not a cloud in the sky and highs of 22 degrees. Not bad for the middle of "winter" (even if winter is a total sham in Australia).
I've been very busy training at all of the resort's restaurants and bars: there are six in total. It's slightly hectic but I'm happy to be busy. Life here resembles living in a small town in many ways. There are about 100-150 staff so it doesn't take too long to get to know all the faces. Life is also a bit like high school here. We eat all our meals in a cafeteria. As one of the "new guys" I have been stared at and quizzed multiple times. I think I should just start wearing a stamp that says "Made in Canada" on my forehead. That being said, most everyone has been very friendly and tried to make me feel at home.
Anyhow, I must run as the clock on this public computer is ticking with a hunger.
More to come as I get the chance.
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