Farewell Australia

My last day in Australia. I can't believe it's come to this so quickly, and how incredibly much I don't want to leave. I think my myriad of complex feelings about the end of my adventure are best expressed in haiku form.

Walk sadly towards plane
Backpack chafes sunburnt skin
Vacation: over

Memories in my mind
Like sand fly bites on my skin
Never go away

And then one more haiku for the next dismal hours of my life:

Thirteen hour flight
Leaves afternoon, lands morning
Time travel, but dull

See you all in the States.

Yo ho, yo ho

At what age is one too old to run away from all responsibility and work on a boat? Is thirty too old, because I'm strongly considering it. I just got back from a three-day sailing trip through the Whitsunday Islands on this boat:



And I could've used another five days on the boat. Or ten. Or eighty. I KNEW I was cut out to be a pirate! But seriously, falling asleep every night to the gently rocking motion of the waves and views like this



And then waking up to lay on beaches like this



I wonder how much I could make as a crew chef. Oh yeah, I can't cook. Ummm, crew poet?

I also got to scuba dive, which was rad. And even more rad - I didn't get attacked by sharks, piranhas or killer jellyfish. We had to wear full body stinger suits, which were not only functional but stylish as well. Crew model?

Sluts of the sea

Audrey, what did you do today?

Well, funny you should ask. Let's see... I woke up early, ate some rice crispies, bought a cup of coffee and then I fucking swam in the ocean with 500 wild dolphins!!! Ya know, just your average Sunday.

What an experience! We received a brief training before diving off the boat with our wetsuits and snorkels, informing us that we were there to entertain the dolphins, not the other way around. Our instructions to get them to take an interest in us: act as dolphin-like as possible. This includes diving down, swimming in circles and making high-pitched squeaking noises or even singing. We all laughed at the instruction video, like we're really gonna go out there and sing to the dolphins.

Then, twenty minutes later, a Dusky Dolphin swam under my legs, turned around and looked me right in the eyes, just inches from my mask, and before I knew it, I was singing at the top of my lungs and floundering in circles. My grace didn't really compare to his, but it was enough to entertain. He and I circled each other for a minute and then he swam off to join his pod. This happened repeatedly, for almost an hour. It was the probably the best hour of my life. Apparently the dolphins like The Beatles.

The highlight of the swim was definitely the dolphin sex. Yes, I saw full on dolphin-on-dolphin action. I took a picture and then felt guilty. I would publish it on the blog, but I don't want to promote dolphin porn. Apparently dolphins are one of the few other mammals besides humans that hump for pleasure. And they do it a LOT. A female dolphin will have sex with up to eight males in one day. That's my kinda lady. Once I learned how much dolphins like to do the dirty deed, I stopped trying to act so "dolphin-like." The last thing I need is to accidentally seduce a feisty male dolphin.

Here's one little fellow showing off. Sorry the camera's a little shakey, I was real excited.

Mortality

Queenstown, NZ is a place where people from all over the world come to flirt with death. Bungee jumping, sky diving, super fast jet boats through canyons... they're all perfectly safe, but carefully constructed to make the participant feel like he or she is going to die. "Thrill therapy," the Kiwis call it.

I opted for what seemed like a slightly less terrifying option. Rather than chucking myself off a bridge, I decided to board under it. Riverboarding is like whitewater rafting, only instead of a big raft, you're on a small boogie board. And instead of paddles, you have flippers. If you get good, like our guides, you can actually "surf" the constant waves of the river. It looks super cool.

Cruising down the beautiful, swiftly moving river was very peaceful and fun. Here's Natalie looking much more competent than I ever did.



When we hit the small rapids, it became more exciting and scary. Then came the Class IV rapids, which I'd describe as violent and chokey. Then I moved on to full-fledged panicy and drowny as the guides had to rescue me from flailing off down the river. I'm the frightened looking one on the right in the white helmet.




It was more embarrassing than anything else, but I certainly got my healthy dose of Thrill Therapy.

Another perfectly safe, yet slightly terrifying activity was flying in a tiny plane over Fjordland National Park. The propeller started up and I thought to myself: "Hmmm, hope we don't crash and die."



Then the plane flew over mountain tops and glaciers, so close I felt like I could reach out and touch them, and I thought: "Even if we do crash and die, this is totally worth it."




And as we cruised over Milford and Doubtful Sound, I watched the jagged coastline below the majestic mountain ranges and thought that maybe I already had died, because I didn't think anything this beautiful existed on earth.

Remarkable

The mountains behind Queenstown are called The Remarkables.





Incidentally, so is our new band.





It's also known as Audrey and the Brits. I've met nothing but English people since I arrived in New Zealand. I'm not complaining; it's been awesome. I've been eating things like crumpets and learning words like "minge" (thanks Dominic).


But what's truely remarkable is how sad I am to say goodbye to friends I've known for hardly more than a week. And how much I shall miss them.

Giddyup

I have a new man. His name is B.J. and he's tall, dark and handsome. He's kind of the quiet type, but he likes to do romantic things, like take sunset strolls around Lake Tekapo.





I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I think it's love.

What a difference a day makes

After the disaster that was Wednesday (eight hours of wearing wet jeans to see a soggy and grey Milford Sound) I decided to approach things differently. I couldn't change the weather, but I could change my plans.

Thursday morning I woke up to the most beautiful day in New Zealand yet. My friends and I were scheduled to depart on a bus at 8am but at the last minute, we told the driver we would not be leaving Queenstown just yet. Instead, we booked a scenic flight over Milford Sound and the surrounding national park.

I can't believe the difference the weather makes. It was an entirely different place. An entirely different experience. And, thankfully, an entirely different Audrey. Let me illustrate:

Milford Sound on Wednesday.

Milford Sound on Thursday.

Audrey on Wednesday.

Audrey on Thursday.

Natalie and Dominic on Wednesday.

Natalie and Dominic on Thursday.

See what I mean?

Fed up

That's it. No more making the best of bad weather. No more Pollyanna. And certainly no more "lemonaids." This weather fucking sucks and it's fucking pissing me off.


Milford sound. One of the most beautiful sights in one of the most beautiful countries. Well, do you want to know what it looks like when it's grey and cloudy and pouring rain?




It looks like crap. That's what. you can vaguely make out a waterfall or two. So fucking disappointed. So we decided to do the only reasonable thing. Get as drunk as possible in the two hours on the boat and then take pictures of postcards.








Aren't the postcards pretty?

Road to paradise

No clean socks

Everytime I travel, I'm reminded of how much I love the backpackers' life. It's partially the excitement of seeing a new place every day, partially because of the cool people and new friends I've made from around the world, but mostly because I can wear the same jeans and T-shirt every single day and no one even bats an eyelash. My kind of lifestyle.

Frozen ocean

Take a picturesque valley, scatter a dozen tumbling waterfalls around the edges and then plunk a giant piece of blue ice right in the middle. That's Franz Joseph glacier.

It looks small from far away, but it is in fact huge - over 400 square miles and constantly changing. It's looks like an ocean, frozen in the middle of a huge storm.

And I got to walk on it,

climb through its ice caves,

and dip my hands in its cool blue pools.

It was truly one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had. Granted, this is the girl who gets excited by frozen puddles on the ground in Brooklyn. But this was one damn impressive frozen puddle.

Welcome to Hobbit Country

If you look really close, you can see Frodo standing amoung the Pancake Rocks.

Come again some other day

The weather was great for a couple days and has now turned back to crap. Apparently, pouring rain makes it very hard to fly a helicopter up into a glacier, so the tour here in Franz Joseph was cancelled today. Everyone keep your fingers crossed for me to be able to go tomorrow. But, once again, I'm making the most of a rainy day. I spent the afternoon in the jacuzzi with a bunch of Brits and a bottle of Merlot. No complaints there.

Amazingly, the weather Gods did smile on me earlier this week. First they brought me an impressive rainbow over the small town of Nelson.



Then it cleared enough for us to spend a lovely day in Abel Tasman National Park. Not that it got exactly hot and sunny, but the sun shined and it was warm enough to kayak in nothing but a life jacket



with my new friend and traveling companion, Natalie.



We paddled around the gorgeous beaches and coves of Abel Tasman all morning.



And then hiked through the forested hills all afternoon



with amazing views of the coastline.



It was a pretty perfect day. But the highlight was riding back to the starting point in the water taxi. They let us stand up in the back and ride the choppy waves like a jet ski, holding on for dear life. Then we got towed into shore by the famous New Zealand Water Tractors. Bizarre.



I'm serious about the crossing of fingers for me. Not that the hot tub wasn't lovely, but I REALLY want to head up to the glacier tomorrow.

Warning: post may contain offensive language

Day #3 in New Zealand. It's beautiful here, and wet. It's been pouring down rain since I arrived. Generally, I don't mind the rain, but recently, it's been impeding my plans. Yesterday, I was supposed to go swimming with dolphins. The boat was cancelled due to rain. Tomorrow I'm supposed to kayak Abel Tasman national park. We'll see if that happens. Why must the weather gods do this to me? And it doesn't help my mood that the locals keep saying "That's so strange, it's usually warm and sunny in March."

But, as Sarah Silverman says, when God gives you AIDS, make lemonaids. So instead of swimming with dolphins, I spent a cozy day at the hostel in front of the fire playing New Zealand Edition Monopoly with the other backpackers. And I'm proud to tell you that I kicked their International asses. By the end of the game I had hotels on every side of the board. Yes, I did America proud.

My winning streak continued into the night with a rousing game of Asshole. I used my presidential reign to create a rule that every time you pass, you have to yell out a swear word in your native language.

I now know how to say "cocksucker" in Spanish, French, Swedish and Maori. Never stop learning, that's my motto.

Who needs lame-ass dolphins when you can learn to curse in Maori?

Check-In Nazi

I arrived in New Zealand today, barely. New fact I learned this morning: check-in for International flights ends one hour prior to departure. One whole hour! I learned this the hard way, by Evil Check-in Lady telling me that I could, in no way possible, get on this flight; it was only 55 minutes until it took off, and was therefore closed. But she could put my on a flight TEN hours later for a $70 service charge. Check-In Bitch did not respond to my arguments, my pleas, nor my breasts ("How about now? Now can I get on the flight?")

As I was about to give up, an elderly, hearing-impaired couple arrived to try and get on the same flight. They were late because they were old, disabled and confused and had gone to the wrong counter (unlike me, who was simply irresponsible and did not read the small print on my ticket). Even the Check-In Nazi couldn't turn these poor, deaf, senior citizens away, so she let them check in.

I watched jealously while she phoned the gate.

"Hello, I need some one to come to the check-in counter to escort a hearing-impaired couple to the gate... well I can't do it, I have to stay up here. No one is free? Listen, I just don't have time to...."

This is when I saw my chance and interrupted.

"Excuse me, I'd be happy to escort them to the gate." I gave her my sweetest, most helpful smile as she eyed me suspiciously. "I mean, we're on the same flight, it would be no problem. Oh wait, to get past security and customs, I'd have to be checked-in. Hmmm..."

20 minutes later, I was happily accompanying the sweet elderly couple on to the plane. It just goes to show you that there is such a thing as karma, only sometimes it needs a little help.

It was an eventful journey through the airport, full of hand gestures, lip-reading, and lots of pen to paper, but we made it. I wished I could remember the sign language I learned in third grade music class, but I think Australian sign language is different. Besides, the airport didn't have any occasion that required me to explain that "I believe the children are our future."

6 out of 12

It's scenes like this one that make me miss Kermit.



This are the 12 Apostles, part of South Eastern Australia's Great Ocean Road. It's kind of like the Pacific Coast Highway, only more impressive. And with koalas.

Audrey's Guide to Australian Animals

The Wombat



Wombats, like every Australian animal it seems, are marsupials. And they are lazy. But I commend them on their cuddliness and friendliness, as exemplified by this picture, in which Baby Wombat Tara is holding my hand. (Sorry, the lighting in the Wombat nursery sucked).



The Wallaby



Wallabies are like little kangaroos, only they're more shy. But once they get used to you, they'll come up and eat right out of your hand. From there, it's easy to coax one into your backpack. Cate, this is our new pet, Wendy. I told her that she can sleep in your room.



The Kangaroo



Kangaroos are like wallabies, only bigger and less shy. They'll sidle right up to you and demand food, pawing you until you explain that you really have no food left, and then they'll keep pawing you.



They're strangely human like, which is why it was especially odd to see one particularly large male crouched over, balls in hand, licking away contentedly. This is where I would feature a video of the kangaroos' distinctive hop (and ball-licking) if I hadn't wasted my camera battery on films of koalas doing nothing.



Which brings us to,

The Koala

Koala's do nothing. In fact, they sleep 22 hours a day. Passed out in the eucalyptus trees overhead, koalas resemble drunken, potbellied, old men with hairy ears. This is probably because they ARE drunk. The two hours a day that koalas aren't sleeping, they're eating the leaves of a particular eucalyptus tree (there are 30 varieties in Australia). The leaves then ferment in their little koala bellies and make them drunk. Thus leading to the 22 hours of sleeping, the horrendous, off-beat dance moves and the slurred strings of drunken swear words hurled at innocent tourists.

One particularly belligerent male had the audacity to drunkenly saunter up to me and try and convince me to come back to his tree. Hey pal, too many fermented eucalyptus leaves in that furry pot belly. You are SO not my type.



The Australian Beach Bum



Just like koalas, only gayer. And less furry.

Terrifying the children of Melbourne since 1912

Seconds before Luna Park ate Claire.

I don’t care what anyone says; this “laughing moonface” is downright scary. Not jolly, scary.

Guarentee

Monday I leave for New Zealand and I’m SO excited. I’ll be exploring the whole South Island, aka Middle Earth, which I hear is gorgeous. Since I’ll be doing this on my own, it would be too expensive to rent a car (plus the last time I rented a car in a country where they drive on the wrong side of the road, I crashed it). So I’ve been looking into various hop-on/hop-off bus options.

The most renown of these busses is the Kiwi Experience. The “Big Green Fuck Truck,” as it’s known by the locals, is notorious for drunken British students on holiday from Uni who experience the inside of the bus and each other’s privates more than the stunning New Zealand country side. As entertaining as this sounds, I’m concerned that this is not exactly my scene. And after being trapped on a bus with these pimple-faced horn-dogs for days on end, I’m afraid I’d be driven to bungee jump off the bridge in Queenstown sans bungee.

Luckily, I found a helpful man at the travel agent’s yesterday and he gave me some good advice. “People go on Kiwi experience because they’re guaranteed to get laid,” he told me. “I think you’d be happier on the Magic Bus Company. It’s still social, but a slightly more mature crowd.”

He followed this with, “But I can personally guarantee that you get laid on any tour – what days will you be traveling exactly?”

Generous though he was, I politely declined his offer and booked a ticket on the Magic Bus. The last thing I’m looking for is a guaranteed lay. I’m 30, after all. A mature adult. And I prefer more of a challenge.

Over the top

I've always loved waterfalls - gazing at them from below, peering over the top or swimming underneath. But never did I imagine that I would find myself rapelling down one. Never, that is, until I was standing at the mouth of Empress Falls, being hitched into a harness and rope as I gazed down through 100 feet of rushing white water.

It was terrifying, but after rapelling off cliffs all morning and canyoning through the Blue Mountains all afternoon, I felt confident I could do anything. I could. And I did.

To describe the thrill of being in the middle of a waterfall cannot do it justice. Picture tons of water pouring down on your helmet, the slippery wall sliding underneath your shoes and the wet rope running through your hands - the only thing holding you above the pool, the jagged rocks and your friends' encouraging faces, seemingly miles below. It was amazing.

Between the canyoning and the Mardi Gras party, I'm concerned I'm frontloading my trip with too much fun. How can the next three weeks possibly compare?

Here are some pictures from the cliff rapelling. For the canyoning pics, you'll have to wait for the waterproof camera to develop.