Sunday 8th May
Much the same today as before, with a day spent on the beach, although a few of the guys and I made the treck out to the lighthouse and even had a few pictures of the most easterly point in Australia, which had some stunning views, but also highlighted the fact that I need to cut out the whole smoking thing after climbing about 20 steps. After completing my exercise for the month I returned to the hostel to jump in the hot tub yet again, then grabbed some lunch and went to check on Florence, who had developed a killer fever. We were palnning to grab some food from the shops and cook a big dinner to share that night, but in the end we were too lazy and dominoes pizza ended up on the menu. I also ended up having a bottle of wine with dinner, by which I mean I had the entire bottle (so much for my night off drinking). After dinner a few of us curled up in Florence's bed and watched a movie on my laptop, it was a wierd animated one about owls but it turned out to be a hoot.
Sunday, 22 May 2011
Chuck a chook at your chums and chow down
Saturday 7th May
A little bit of a later rise today, which may have had something to do with the alcohol imbibed the previous night, but I soon managed to quiet the associated drum solo taking place in my head by jumping in the hostels hot tub and having a shower; a pattern that I unfortunately had to repeat every morning while in byron bay. Once the hangover had been suitably subdued I headed to the beach with a few guys from the hostel, via woolworths to grab a hot chicken, some laughing cow and a breadstick, and had chicken and stuffing sandwiches overlooking the sea. After another day of sunbathing, because I can't allow myself to be less tanned than my friends when I get back to England, we all headed back to the hostel to chill out for a while before dinner. We all went to a club called cheeky monkey for dinner, as they were doing a $5 feed deal; Dinner and a free drink for $5, plus we won a load of free drinks by being the hostel that made the most noise. There was also a jenga set on every table, so we ended up playing while we drank, with surprising success. After dinner we all headed back to the hostel to play some drinking games in the rooms, the result of which was red wine all over the bedroom floor and even on my bed, which went very nicely with the sand it was already covered in. After the drinking games a few of us headed back to cheeky monkey for more drinks and a ridiculous amount of dancing. Afterwards we all headed back to the hostel and I ended up talking in reception with Florence till the small hours of the morning.
A little bit of a later rise today, which may have had something to do with the alcohol imbibed the previous night, but I soon managed to quiet the associated drum solo taking place in my head by jumping in the hostels hot tub and having a shower; a pattern that I unfortunately had to repeat every morning while in byron bay. Once the hangover had been suitably subdued I headed to the beach with a few guys from the hostel, via woolworths to grab a hot chicken, some laughing cow and a breadstick, and had chicken and stuffing sandwiches overlooking the sea. After another day of sunbathing, because I can't allow myself to be less tanned than my friends when I get back to England, we all headed back to the hostel to chill out for a while before dinner. We all went to a club called cheeky monkey for dinner, as they were doing a $5 feed deal; Dinner and a free drink for $5, plus we won a load of free drinks by being the hostel that made the most noise. There was also a jenga set on every table, so we ended up playing while we drank, with surprising success. After dinner we all headed back to the hostel to play some drinking games in the rooms, the result of which was red wine all over the bedroom floor and even on my bed, which went very nicely with the sand it was already covered in. After the drinking games a few of us headed back to cheeky monkey for more drinks and a ridiculous amount of dancing. Afterwards we all headed back to the hostel and I ended up talking in reception with Florence till the small hours of the morning.
Lord Byron
Friday 6th May
Ashton and I arrived in Byron bay at around 6am and, assuming that the hostel's reception wouldn't open until around 9, headed to a cafe for breakfast. It was in this cafe that I had possibly the best bacon and egg roll I have ever encountered, with fresh spinach, aoli and relish on a soft muffin. While enjoying this epic brekky I also used the cafe's free internet and discovered that Nomads, the hostel at which we were to reside, had a 24 hour reception. So, breakfast having come to and end, we popped across the road to our new home for the next few nights. When we reached reception our rooms were still not ready, which was to be expected as most hostels don't have book in until around 11am and it was still well before 7am, so we dumped our bags and chilled on the sofas around reception, where I promptly fell asleep for the next hour. I awoke to a sympathetic face asking me if I was waiting to be booked into a room and, after a minute of figuring out where, who and what I was, replied that I was indeed waiting for a room. As luck would have it the sympathetic recepetionist had managed to get our rooms prepared and we were able to check into them by around 8 o'clock.
Ashton and I were in separate rooms so we went our separate ways with plans to meet after considerable napping. Oddly enough when I got into my room, and in sight of my bed, I no longer felt tired; I assumed the coffee from breakfast was just kicking in, and so got changed and headed down to the beach for a morning stroll and to check out what I would, undoubtably, be spending most of the next three days lying on. The weather was fantastic and the surfers were out in for, heading to the sea like clams lead by the walrus. I walked down to the end of the beach, where there was a lookout back along the coastline, and took a few pictures, including one of myself involving some very precarious balancing of my camera on a rock.
Shortly afterwards I met up with Ashton and Janna, one of the girls from port Macquarie who was also in Byron Bay, and we had a lovely first day at the beach. While we were down at the beach inspiration struck and I, for no apparent reason, decided to design a tattoo in the sand, and got so engrossed in it that I spent almost an hour on it before completion. That night we all went on the pub crawl that had been arranged by the hostel, and by we I mean a few of the guys from my room, the Port Macquarie gang, Ben, a guy I had met in Sydney, and a few others that I had met that day. It was a fab night with much drinking of the accursed 'Goon' followed by much drinking of pretty much anything that seemed to be floating past. I met a Swiss girl that night called Florence and became immediately distracted by the fact that she spoke French, which appears to be my Kryptonite. Towards the tail end of the night I went down to the beach with a few people to consume some of the alcohol we had left at the hostel and then, taking half of the beach with me, returned to the hostel and bed.
Ashton and I arrived in Byron bay at around 6am and, assuming that the hostel's reception wouldn't open until around 9, headed to a cafe for breakfast. It was in this cafe that I had possibly the best bacon and egg roll I have ever encountered, with fresh spinach, aoli and relish on a soft muffin. While enjoying this epic brekky I also used the cafe's free internet and discovered that Nomads, the hostel at which we were to reside, had a 24 hour reception. So, breakfast having come to and end, we popped across the road to our new home for the next few nights. When we reached reception our rooms were still not ready, which was to be expected as most hostels don't have book in until around 11am and it was still well before 7am, so we dumped our bags and chilled on the sofas around reception, where I promptly fell asleep for the next hour. I awoke to a sympathetic face asking me if I was waiting to be booked into a room and, after a minute of figuring out where, who and what I was, replied that I was indeed waiting for a room. As luck would have it the sympathetic recepetionist had managed to get our rooms prepared and we were able to check into them by around 8 o'clock.
Ashton and I were in separate rooms so we went our separate ways with plans to meet after considerable napping. Oddly enough when I got into my room, and in sight of my bed, I no longer felt tired; I assumed the coffee from breakfast was just kicking in, and so got changed and headed down to the beach for a morning stroll and to check out what I would, undoubtably, be spending most of the next three days lying on. The weather was fantastic and the surfers were out in for, heading to the sea like clams lead by the walrus. I walked down to the end of the beach, where there was a lookout back along the coastline, and took a few pictures, including one of myself involving some very precarious balancing of my camera on a rock.
Shortly afterwards I met up with Ashton and Janna, one of the girls from port Macquarie who was also in Byron Bay, and we had a lovely first day at the beach. While we were down at the beach inspiration struck and I, for no apparent reason, decided to design a tattoo in the sand, and got so engrossed in it that I spent almost an hour on it before completion. That night we all went on the pub crawl that had been arranged by the hostel, and by we I mean a few of the guys from my room, the Port Macquarie gang, Ben, a guy I had met in Sydney, and a few others that I had met that day. It was a fab night with much drinking of the accursed 'Goon' followed by much drinking of pretty much anything that seemed to be floating past. I met a Swiss girl that night called Florence and became immediately distracted by the fact that she spoke French, which appears to be my Kryptonite. Towards the tail end of the night I went down to the beach with a few people to consume some of the alcohol we had left at the hostel and then, taking half of the beach with me, returned to the hostel and bed.
Ode to a grumpy old Aussie
Thursday 5th May
Port Macquarie was amazing! I arrived at the hostel, Ozzie Pozzie, at around 7pm and paid for my room. While I was getting sorted I heard a "You must be Dave then." From the table outside, this is how I met Phil, an old guy who worked at the hostel and had met my sister when she'd been there a week or so earlier, and had been forewarned of my arrival. He was a great character, your classic grumpy old man. He was also a compulsive liar and caught me out more times than i'd like to mention, the worst occasion being when he told me I was playing ping-pong with a left handed paddle and it took me a good thirty seconds berfore I realised he was pulling my leg. He also spent the next four days trying to steal my thongs and screw them to the roof of the smoking area, as he had a habit of doing to stray thongs. basically Phil was awesome!
That first night I joined a few of the guys at the hostel in a game of shithead, racking up a pretty impressive losing streak, and some mild drinking. There was Brad, Anika, Harley, Ashton, Dan and myself, and we soon became good pals.
The next day we all headed to the beach for a bit of a swim and a surf, during which I managed to garner another minor injury (as I seem to do every time I go near a board). That night we all hung at the hostel and played drinking games over a ridiculous amount of pizza. We also met a few new faces including a Canadian guy that was the spitting image of Michael Buble! We played a game called aussie roulette which is ever so simple and ever so vicious and then a lot of drunken ping pong took place.
Tuesday was another beach day with the guys, although this time we just went to the beach closest to the hostel with a couple of new found friends, including an English girl called Ana. We hung out for most of the day and had a lot of fun laughing at Ana and Anika while they battled to keep their bikinis on under the onslought of the waves. That night we hung out and watched telly at the hostel and met Teresa and Janna, a couple of german girls travelling up the east coast.
Wednesday was yet another beach day with a bit of surfing thrown in again, and yet more battles with bikinis, this time for Teresa and Janna. In the afternoon Ashton, the german girls and I went to the koala sanctuary and saw all the little furry guys hanging around being absurdly cute. The guide was a funny little American lady who looked just like a koala herself, and gained my eternal respect for referencing Blinky Bill (Legend!).
That night Brad the chef made everyone a huge roast Chicken dinner with peas, carrots, pumpkin potatoes and gravy; It was phenomenal! After my body had recovered from the shock of eating real people food, as opposed to my staple diet of noodles, we all went to Brad's pad, as he was living in 'The Villa', and played (you guessed it) more drinking games. I also joined in with some of Brad's fellow villa residents in a bit of drunken guitar playing, although my already less than impressive jamming skills were somewhat hampered by the amount of goon. Janna was leaving at 1am so we walked her to the bus stop to say goodbye, only to return to find Brad passed out.
Thursday morning rolled around and Brad, who couldn't remember the latter stages of the previous evening, and I went for a 2 hour kyaking trip at 10am, which was wicked but incredibly tiring when coupled with a hangover, and discovered that I am terrible at steering a kyak. Then all that was left to do was pack the bags and chill, my train would be at 1030pm in Wauchope (Don't pronounce it how it looks, It's War-hope, and saying it the other way gets you very funny looks from people at Country Link information desks).
I got to Wauchope at about 530pm with Ashton, who is also heading to Byron Bay, and spent the last 4 hours in what is possibly the dullest place in australia. I am now sitting at the train station waiting to move on to better and brighter things, with many people to reconnect with in Byron bay. Now I just need the weather to be as good as it has been in Port Macquarie - I'm almost tanned again!
Port Macquarie was amazing! I arrived at the hostel, Ozzie Pozzie, at around 7pm and paid for my room. While I was getting sorted I heard a "You must be Dave then." From the table outside, this is how I met Phil, an old guy who worked at the hostel and had met my sister when she'd been there a week or so earlier, and had been forewarned of my arrival. He was a great character, your classic grumpy old man. He was also a compulsive liar and caught me out more times than i'd like to mention, the worst occasion being when he told me I was playing ping-pong with a left handed paddle and it took me a good thirty seconds berfore I realised he was pulling my leg. He also spent the next four days trying to steal my thongs and screw them to the roof of the smoking area, as he had a habit of doing to stray thongs. basically Phil was awesome!
That first night I joined a few of the guys at the hostel in a game of shithead, racking up a pretty impressive losing streak, and some mild drinking. There was Brad, Anika, Harley, Ashton, Dan and myself, and we soon became good pals.
The next day we all headed to the beach for a bit of a swim and a surf, during which I managed to garner another minor injury (as I seem to do every time I go near a board). That night we all hung at the hostel and played drinking games over a ridiculous amount of pizza. We also met a few new faces including a Canadian guy that was the spitting image of Michael Buble! We played a game called aussie roulette which is ever so simple and ever so vicious and then a lot of drunken ping pong took place.
Tuesday was another beach day with the guys, although this time we just went to the beach closest to the hostel with a couple of new found friends, including an English girl called Ana. We hung out for most of the day and had a lot of fun laughing at Ana and Anika while they battled to keep their bikinis on under the onslought of the waves. That night we hung out and watched telly at the hostel and met Teresa and Janna, a couple of german girls travelling up the east coast.
Wednesday was yet another beach day with a bit of surfing thrown in again, and yet more battles with bikinis, this time for Teresa and Janna. In the afternoon Ashton, the german girls and I went to the koala sanctuary and saw all the little furry guys hanging around being absurdly cute. The guide was a funny little American lady who looked just like a koala herself, and gained my eternal respect for referencing Blinky Bill (Legend!).
That night Brad the chef made everyone a huge roast Chicken dinner with peas, carrots, pumpkin potatoes and gravy; It was phenomenal! After my body had recovered from the shock of eating real people food, as opposed to my staple diet of noodles, we all went to Brad's pad, as he was living in 'The Villa', and played (you guessed it) more drinking games. I also joined in with some of Brad's fellow villa residents in a bit of drunken guitar playing, although my already less than impressive jamming skills were somewhat hampered by the amount of goon. Janna was leaving at 1am so we walked her to the bus stop to say goodbye, only to return to find Brad passed out.
Thursday morning rolled around and Brad, who couldn't remember the latter stages of the previous evening, and I went for a 2 hour kyaking trip at 10am, which was wicked but incredibly tiring when coupled with a hangover, and discovered that I am terrible at steering a kyak. Then all that was left to do was pack the bags and chill, my train would be at 1030pm in Wauchope (Don't pronounce it how it looks, It's War-hope, and saying it the other way gets you very funny looks from people at Country Link information desks).
I got to Wauchope at about 530pm with Ashton, who is also heading to Byron Bay, and spent the last 4 hours in what is possibly the dullest place in australia. I am now sitting at the train station waiting to move on to better and brighter things, with many people to reconnect with in Byron bay. Now I just need the weather to be as good as it has been in Port Macquarie - I'm almost tanned again!
May on the move
Sunday 1st May
As the new month has decided to rear it ugly head I have decided that I should combat its arrival with some sort of resolution. That is to say I am going to try adn quit smoking again. This does not relate to the events of the past few days and is merely the result of finding myself without any tobacco related products.
To return to the purpose of recounting my travels; I arrived in Wickham, the train station closest to my hostel, at around 7 in the evening, after having discovered on the train that the number I had for the hostel was, in fact, for use only on a landline. This meant that I was in the same position as when I arrived in Sydney; being that I had no way of contacting my hostel and no clue upon which street it even lay. I decided to trust what I like to think of as my innate sense of direction to guide me to my temporary abode, and feeling only minorly dispirited, journeyed forth in what I felt to be a southern-esque direction. After trying, and failing, to hail several taxis, I found myself outside a BP garage and decided that an innate sense of direction was a fine thing, but would provide accomodation for the night. So pride, coming as it did before a fall, put aside I asked the attendant at the BP for the name of the road and the number for a taxi. He wished me well and I emerged from the garage with a new sense of purpose and absolutely no trace of surprise at the fact that it had started raining. After a decent period of standing in the rain my taxi arrived and, fortunately, the driver knew where the hostel was located, thus rendering my complete lack of information a mere trifling nuisance. I arrived at the hostel only to be told by the owner that the BP station was in fact just around the corner and almost visible from the hostel. Score one for the innate sense of direction. Less points, however, on the side of being a wily traveller, as the cabbie charged me $10 for the completely unnecessary mystery tour he took me on en-route to the hostel.
The hostel seemed great, although the general population were all glued to the royal wedding on channel 7. Fortunately two English girls arrive shortly after I and we immediately excercised our right, as British nationals, to mercilessly mock the royal family. After that it was an early night as I had ambitions towards waves and the riding thereupon the next day.
I arose early, to glorious sunshine, and jumped on a computer to check the surf forecast for newcastle. The forecast looked hopeful, if a little out of my league, with predicted 3 meter waves. The serendipitous nature of my surfing plans seemed assured when my French roomate checked in, longboard in tow, and decided to join me for a surf, despite the fact the weather had taken a turn for the worse and, as I had become used to over the last week, proceeded to precipitate all over the place. Our hopes were, alas, all for nought as, after enquiring at reception about board hire, we were informed that the beaches had been closed as the waves were too dangerous. Downtrodden and downhearted we went for a smoke and chat and agreed that a movie would be the best remedy to this dissapointment. So Henri and I watched one of the obviously pirated films available at the hostel, after which I retired to bed for a read, only to wake up 4 hours later at 7pm.
That evening I joined the rest of the gang at the hostel in a game of pictionary and the customary consumtion of goon before falling away to my bed ready to journey the promise land of Port Macquarie, that my thirst for surfing be slaked.
I now reside upon the train, half way to Port Maquarie and short one towel, left hanging up by the pool. Fortunately it's microfibre counterpart yet resides in an auxilary pocket of my pack. On this note I shall leave you, dearest ones, to cogitate on what may lie ahead for this intrepid nomad, no longer inert.
As the new month has decided to rear it ugly head I have decided that I should combat its arrival with some sort of resolution. That is to say I am going to try adn quit smoking again. This does not relate to the events of the past few days and is merely the result of finding myself without any tobacco related products.
To return to the purpose of recounting my travels; I arrived in Wickham, the train station closest to my hostel, at around 7 in the evening, after having discovered on the train that the number I had for the hostel was, in fact, for use only on a landline. This meant that I was in the same position as when I arrived in Sydney; being that I had no way of contacting my hostel and no clue upon which street it even lay. I decided to trust what I like to think of as my innate sense of direction to guide me to my temporary abode, and feeling only minorly dispirited, journeyed forth in what I felt to be a southern-esque direction. After trying, and failing, to hail several taxis, I found myself outside a BP garage and decided that an innate sense of direction was a fine thing, but would provide accomodation for the night. So pride, coming as it did before a fall, put aside I asked the attendant at the BP for the name of the road and the number for a taxi. He wished me well and I emerged from the garage with a new sense of purpose and absolutely no trace of surprise at the fact that it had started raining. After a decent period of standing in the rain my taxi arrived and, fortunately, the driver knew where the hostel was located, thus rendering my complete lack of information a mere trifling nuisance. I arrived at the hostel only to be told by the owner that the BP station was in fact just around the corner and almost visible from the hostel. Score one for the innate sense of direction. Less points, however, on the side of being a wily traveller, as the cabbie charged me $10 for the completely unnecessary mystery tour he took me on en-route to the hostel.
The hostel seemed great, although the general population were all glued to the royal wedding on channel 7. Fortunately two English girls arrive shortly after I and we immediately excercised our right, as British nationals, to mercilessly mock the royal family. After that it was an early night as I had ambitions towards waves and the riding thereupon the next day.
I arose early, to glorious sunshine, and jumped on a computer to check the surf forecast for newcastle. The forecast looked hopeful, if a little out of my league, with predicted 3 meter waves. The serendipitous nature of my surfing plans seemed assured when my French roomate checked in, longboard in tow, and decided to join me for a surf, despite the fact the weather had taken a turn for the worse and, as I had become used to over the last week, proceeded to precipitate all over the place. Our hopes were, alas, all for nought as, after enquiring at reception about board hire, we were informed that the beaches had been closed as the waves were too dangerous. Downtrodden and downhearted we went for a smoke and chat and agreed that a movie would be the best remedy to this dissapointment. So Henri and I watched one of the obviously pirated films available at the hostel, after which I retired to bed for a read, only to wake up 4 hours later at 7pm.
That evening I joined the rest of the gang at the hostel in a game of pictionary and the customary consumtion of goon before falling away to my bed ready to journey the promise land of Port Macquarie, that my thirst for surfing be slaked.
I now reside upon the train, half way to Port Maquarie and short one towel, left hanging up by the pool. Fortunately it's microfibre counterpart yet resides in an auxilary pocket of my pack. On this note I shall leave you, dearest ones, to cogitate on what may lie ahead for this intrepid nomad, no longer inert.
Much ado about no worries
Friday 29th April
Thursay morning rolled around and I managed to tear myself out of bed by 11am for my last round of fried eggs and avocado on toast, pretty much my staple diet for this trip. I did nothing until about 1pm then headed to Bondi, with a couple of my roommates, for my last surf in Sydney. The waves were ridiculous, with big sudden swells right where it was shallow so that, on more than one occasion, I got all excited when I started to catch a wave only to have my board nose dive into the sand sending me in much the same direction. In one of these optimistic tumbles I managed to fall off in front of my board, which was then hurled at me by the wave I was trying to catch and resulting in one of the fins taking a chunk out of my foot. So it was with bloody foot and toothy grin that I abandoned the surf for home, so that I could get dinner before going to see Much Ado About Nothing that night.
I arrived at Sydney Opera House in high spirits and with 10 minutes to spare, which is just as well as I didn't have a clue where to pick up my tickets from. After being directed the the box office, being told I was at the wrong box office (indeed entirely the wrong part of the opera house), I finally found a man willing to bestow my ticket upon me and headed into the 'Drama Studio'.
The show was well performed and, of course, Benedict was absolutely hilarious, however I felt that it was too comical an interpretation of the play. Despite it being a play with a large amount of comedy in it, there are also several scenes of more tragic nature which were not portrayed as well as they could have been. It was an enjoyable performance all the same, and definitely worth it for the experience of having seen a performance at the Sydney Opera House.
The next day I fell prey to the 9 hour time difference with England as I got up ridiculously early so that I could skype with my friend Katy. After that I had breakfast and packed my bags ready to leave Sydney for Newcastle. I am now on the train and awaiting arrival at the next stop on my adventure, fortunately it's only a two and a half hour journey and i'll be there in tiem for dinner, most likely followed by some heavy drinking, it is Friday afterall.
Thursay morning rolled around and I managed to tear myself out of bed by 11am for my last round of fried eggs and avocado on toast, pretty much my staple diet for this trip. I did nothing until about 1pm then headed to Bondi, with a couple of my roommates, for my last surf in Sydney. The waves were ridiculous, with big sudden swells right where it was shallow so that, on more than one occasion, I got all excited when I started to catch a wave only to have my board nose dive into the sand sending me in much the same direction. In one of these optimistic tumbles I managed to fall off in front of my board, which was then hurled at me by the wave I was trying to catch and resulting in one of the fins taking a chunk out of my foot. So it was with bloody foot and toothy grin that I abandoned the surf for home, so that I could get dinner before going to see Much Ado About Nothing that night.
I arrived at Sydney Opera House in high spirits and with 10 minutes to spare, which is just as well as I didn't have a clue where to pick up my tickets from. After being directed the the box office, being told I was at the wrong box office (indeed entirely the wrong part of the opera house), I finally found a man willing to bestow my ticket upon me and headed into the 'Drama Studio'.
The show was well performed and, of course, Benedict was absolutely hilarious, however I felt that it was too comical an interpretation of the play. Despite it being a play with a large amount of comedy in it, there are also several scenes of more tragic nature which were not portrayed as well as they could have been. It was an enjoyable performance all the same, and definitely worth it for the experience of having seen a performance at the Sydney Opera House.
The next day I fell prey to the 9 hour time difference with England as I got up ridiculously early so that I could skype with my friend Katy. After that I had breakfast and packed my bags ready to leave Sydney for Newcastle. I am now on the train and awaiting arrival at the next stop on my adventure, fortunately it's only a two and a half hour journey and i'll be there in tiem for dinner, most likely followed by some heavy drinking, it is Friday afterall.
Sun, spooks and scnaaps
Thursday 28th april
Surfing yesterday was great,despite still having a hangover at 3pm. The waves were pretty strong and I couldn'tget more than about 3 metres from the sand, not too mention the fact that I could only go about 15 minutes at a time before feeling too sick or too exausted and having to take a breather. After surfing I sped back to the hostel and then headed out to meet Gabby for our ghost tour extravaganza.
Gabby and I met at the harbour and made our way over to 'The Rocks', a super old area of Melbourne, to join the start of the tour. Our guide was hilarious, and not at all purposefully; He looked like a friendly baker in a black leather trenchcoat and the descriptions he gave of the 'gruesome' events that had transpired in the area had Gabby and me in stitches.
After the tour we went to a Bevarian themed restaurant, which was, if anything, more hilarious than the ghost tour guide. There was a 3 man band, all dressed in leiderhosen, playing such 'Bevarian' classics as YMCA and You Can Leave Your Hat On. We both ordered some sort of veal (I know i'm the devil) stroganoff-y kind of thing and I also had a cheeky little shot of peppermint shnaaps, as I've been wanting to try it ever since I saw Little Nicky years ago.
After dinner I headed back to the hostel and got myself a reasonably early night (1am) so that I could go surfing the next day.
Surfing yesterday was great,despite still having a hangover at 3pm. The waves were pretty strong and I couldn'tget more than about 3 metres from the sand, not too mention the fact that I could only go about 15 minutes at a time before feeling too sick or too exausted and having to take a breather. After surfing I sped back to the hostel and then headed out to meet Gabby for our ghost tour extravaganza.
Gabby and I met at the harbour and made our way over to 'The Rocks', a super old area of Melbourne, to join the start of the tour. Our guide was hilarious, and not at all purposefully; He looked like a friendly baker in a black leather trenchcoat and the descriptions he gave of the 'gruesome' events that had transpired in the area had Gabby and me in stitches.
After the tour we went to a Bevarian themed restaurant, which was, if anything, more hilarious than the ghost tour guide. There was a 3 man band, all dressed in leiderhosen, playing such 'Bevarian' classics as YMCA and You Can Leave Your Hat On. We both ordered some sort of veal (I know i'm the devil) stroganoff-y kind of thing and I also had a cheeky little shot of peppermint shnaaps, as I've been wanting to try it ever since I saw Little Nicky years ago.
After dinner I headed back to the hostel and got myself a reasonably early night (1am) so that I could go surfing the next day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)