Unbelieveably, the time to leave Sydney has come and gone and im writing this from the poolside of a Cairns hotel. Jo's sunbathing in bursts, trying to take advantage of the few rays of sun that are making it through the thick black storm clouds filling the sky, and im in the shade, praying for a thunderstorm to clear the air and do away with a few of these damned clouds. On the other hand, its about 30 in the shade so i dont know if id survive a day in the sun just yet.
Its day 2 away from the city and already im missing work. The job i had turned out to be one of the most entertaining ive had in ages. It was challenging, interesting and because of these facts, time went so fast every day that i couldnt believe that at the end of a day id worked for over 9 hours with one fifteen minute break. Id almost certainly consider returning some time in the future had i, on my last day, not got so smashed at after work drinks that i found myself alone in an underground car park at 4am with blood on my hands and a pre-hangover hangover that broke all personal bests.
Since i did find myself in this unusual situation however, ill do what any self respecting person would, and never go back to Sydney as long as i live, just in case.
In the weeks leading up to our departure, summer started to rear its ugly head, and all sorts of lithe, healthy young people, perpetually bronzed and happy, started to fill the streets, beaches and bars of a once peaceful city. As a result, it was straight to the nearest gym for me, and thats where i stayed. Every day for a month i went, and it didnt make a blind bit of difference! I hate the gym.
We met up with Hatef, our frinedd from our Bali and New Zealand trips who lives in Sydney too, on a couple of occasions. The first time we met up it was at the leisure center he works at for some tennis. Id spent weeks talking a great game assuming id never actually have to play him, and he'd spent weeks practising furiously and planning an occasion where i wouldnt be able to talk my way out of it. He even drove to our apartment and picked me up. Despite him having actual tennis elbow, i was anniahlated in straight sets and sent for an early shower. I hate tennis.
It wasnt all bad though. While at the gym we were introduced to some of the staff and made plans to go for dinner with Hatef and another pair the following weekend after my ego had a few days to recover. Hat, being Iranian, wanted us to try an Iranian restaurant before we left town, and we ended up going to a great little place under some shops in the middle of nowhere. Id never been to restaurant where they didnt have menus before, and it was this that made the whole experience so much fun. This and the belly dancer. When we arrived and were shown to our table, centre stage, it was already loaded with breads and dips and all sorts. As was every other table there. Turns out, they way they organise everyone eating the same thing is to bring everyone in the entire restaurant each course at the same time. The starter, breads and dips, came with the most unexpected addition of all. A 14 stone belly dancer who could seiously move. The show was actually pretty good until the unspeakable happened and she started dancing and jiggling her way between the tables, selecting victims to join her on stage and dance and shake and forefeit all dignity in the process. Although something even more unexpected happened. It was a hit. People loved it. Apparently Iranians are big fans of the wild dancing, and being one of about 4 white people in the place, i was almost alone in not wanting to dance. There was cheering and clapping and photos and cries for more, and one little girl got up and shocked everyone into an admirational silence by being brilliant at belly dancing, sealing her fate for sure. I could see her father making a deal with the manager of the restaurant in no time. Free dinner for him and his family, and his daugter would work there for the rest of her life, starting tomorrow. Then there was the main course, consisting of all sorts of skewered meats and mountains of different rices. Very tasty indeed! More belly dancing, this time with a sword, and before i knew it, everyone was on the dance floor, arms waving like branches in a strong wind and having a blast. Then desert while a band played Turkish music with the volume turned up to 11, and we decided to call it a nite bofore my brain turned to soup. Very good fun for all the family. I love Iranian restaurants.
Tomorrow were taking a ten hour bus journey down the coast where we'll meet up with 40 other boating enthusiasts and set sail for a 3 days cruise through the Whitsundays. Perhaps some scuba, probably some snorkelling and defanately some drinking are the activities on offer, and theres even a nine hole golf course on an island that were stopping on, and ive booked a wee round on there. Then down the coast for some 4x4 diving action on Fraser Island for a few days. Then thats it. Australia done, we fly out of Brisbane on the 25th.
Back on the road there will be more updates, because apart from doing major story worthy activities, theres nothing to do but read and drink, and im almost out of books and liver already.
Check back shortly, ill tell you how it is to sail around with 40 alcoholic backpackers on a choppy ocean in the rain.
HOOT!!!
