Goodbye, Aus

I think I'm officially done with travel for a while.

Up, down, up, down. Too many flights in the past week. Enough.

I'm here at Dallas Fort-Worth airport and here's how I'm feeling:

t
he rocky horror picture show (1975) I'm going home from rudyoutreville on Vimeo.

Too bad I left my corset and heels and Tim Curry face mask at home.

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Knowing that Christmas Island has little to none cellphone and Internet reception, I had intended to head to Sydney Saturday and update the blog then.

Then, the outbound flight from XCH to Perth conked out on Cocos Islands.

I was dropped off at the airport for the 4 p.m. Saturday flight to see a long queue of luggage left unattended. I asked a person what was going on and he told me the flight was cancelled. There was no information and the Virgin agents were useless and unsympathetic.

For me, this meant that Sydney was a no-go. I had 30 hours, which would inevitably be cut down to six. That city has a great vibe, by the way. The AirBnB penthouse in the Rocks was fabulous. Would love to go back there for a longer visit.

Finally, after a 40-minute call to Virgin later on that evening on the island, we were informed there would be a replacement plane at 2:15 the next day, taking us to Cocos to pick up other stranded people and flying directly to Perth from there.

OK, good. Stopped panicking. 

The next day, I got on that plane. But there were more fuck-ups from Virgin Australia to come.

The captain needed paperwork to be completed by ground crew, which delayed us. Then, there was an error in the number count of passengers on the plane. Twenty minutes later, they figured out there was an engineer onboard that shouldn't be there.

The delays meant people trying to connect to Brisbane at 10:30 p.m. would not make it. I had a bit more confidence in my Sydney connection at 11:15 p.m.

But then, add in the time to clear customs, collect bags, transfer to the domestic terminal and the nine of us arrived in check-in at 11 p.m. They were going to leave without us.

"We weren't expecting you so late," a woman behind the counter nonchalantly said.

Well, you guys keep fucking up. Maybe you should fix it. Maybe you should tell people what's going on.

A very nice police officer I was introduced to in Christmas Island kindly offered to give me his seat if it came down to the wire. I needed to be on this flight to make the Qantas flight booked Sunday to get home. Any change to Qantas would mean $1,200 out of pocket.

I also found out the 4 p.m. regular flight out of XCH that was also cancelled. Useless.

It all worked out in the end. I did lose a day in Sydney, but that's OK.

Would not recommend flying Virgin to remote areas, which is a shame because that's the only airline that flies to Christmas Island and I do believe that place is worth visiting. But travellers should be wary that if the plane breaks down, they're kind of stuck there. An agent said the next available flight out wouldn't be until Dec. 5. Completely unacceptable.

Part of it is also my fault – I didn't leave enough wiggle room and thought my work insurance covers all areas of travel. It doesn't; only if you get sick on the trip. I waived my trip interruption and cancelling coverage. C'est la vie.

Usually, on short trips, I get a little blue coming home. But after being away for two weeks, the only thing I'm looking forward to is home – my friends, my dog, my bed.

The Christmas Island Experience

This public service announcement is brought to you by the letter, C. C for 'Crabs.'

A few years ago, I came across this video for the annual crab migration on Christmas Island. I'm not sure if it was on Planet Earth or some other National Geographic video, but it fascinated me.

Over 45 million red crabs slowing moving in waves across the island to get to the Indian Ocean to spawn. Weeks later, the surviving babies – if they don't get eaten by predators – return to land and do the same walk their mothers did weeks before.

It's the circle of life. Fascinating.

Here's a cute video Faye asked me to shoot for her grade 1/2 class:



That is one aspect of Christmas Island, which after spending two days getting to know the locals, seems to be culturally and politically embattled. There's a dark history to that island, but out of that is a very tight-knit community comprising of mainly Malaysian and Chinese descendants.

There are memorials for the two shipwrecks encountered on the island, the worst being in 2010 when a boatload of asylum-seeks crashed into the rocks.

For anyone who hasn't read this excellent look into asylum-seekers in Christmas Island by the New York Times: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/11/17/magazine/the-impossible-refugee-boat-lift-to-christmas-island.html?_r=0http://www.nytimes.com/2013/11/17/magazine/the-impossible-refugee-boat-lift-to-christmas-island.html?_r=0

And people on the island will offer different views of asylum seekers, but they prefer to promote their tourism, which can be difficult – Virgin only flies there a few times a week; many places that would normally be two-star accommodations can jack up prices to 5-star rates because a) it's expensive to get commodities on a remote island b) there aren't a lot of places to stay because many spots have already been rented out by detention centre workers.

But island has its beautiful, protected red crabs (It's a $5,000 fine if you deliberately run over one in your car or snatch one up to eat) and it can be its biggest asset.

Because my flight was cancelled on Friday, that enabled me to stay another night, meet some locals at a barbecue and take up an offer with the parks ranger to get on his boat at 4 a.m. and take a look for red crabs spawning. It's an event that doesn't happen every day and is very dependent on rainfall. That morning, however, they were spawning.

Wow.

It looked like a moving carpet of red clinging to the rocky cliffs. Females carried a brown sac containing 100,000 eggs. When they are ready to drop the package to the ocean, they lift up their front claws and do an Elvis-like hip shake and their unborn babies drop into the water. They have to be careful to not fall into the water, though, as they cannot swim and will drown.

It's an amazing process and I'm glad I got to see it. I feared with climate change, perhaps one day, Mother Nature would just stop the process. I waned to see it just in case she does.

We also saw eight dolphins swimming that day. Rob, the ranger, towed a line for the snorkelers to hold onto while he slowly drove the boat near the dolphins, so they could get a better look.

Still deciding whether the loss of time in Sydney was worth it, along with all the hassle from Virgin, but I'm happy to scratch the red crabs off my bucket list.

In Search of Pinchers and/or Pinchy

To celebrate my trip to Christmas Island, I've been playing the Beach Boys on repeat in my head because of this final scene from "The Summer of 4 ft. 2" episode of the Simpsons.

Anyone who is a nerd like me will know that scene.

I'm currently at the Perth International Airport. I must say it's a quite a grim place. It's vacant – physically and emotionally. There's not a lot of choice of food places or news stands. In the centre is a tacky gold, sparking Christmas tree. It's the aeroport love forgot.

Speaking of which, it feels weird to see all kind of Christmas decorations around Australia when it's 30C outside and everyone's in boogie shorts and Hawaiian shirts.

During my 16-hour layover adventure in Melbourne yesterday, I passed by a lot of Christmas wreaths and lights in the eastern part of town where all the high-end Gucci, Hermes and Dior stores are. I also passed by a lit up theatre resembling the Elgin that was playing King Kong. I just started enjoying attending musicals and I think had I had another day, it would be worthwhile to see.

But with limited time, I chose to spend it at the Queen Victoria Night Market, which was fantastic. Next to the one on Temple St. in Hong Kong, it was my favourite one.

I arrived there around 7 p.m. and it was just packed with people. There were long lines of people at the rows of street food stalls and many who sat on the ground with friends, chomping away on the yummy goods.

Whenever I travel, I try and bring back things I couldn't find back home.

There were tons of vintage clothing vendors, handmade goods and stuff you'd find on Etsy by independent retailers. Look! An echidna next to a wombat! Big fan of flea markets. I was in heaven.

My Marine Monkey tank is one of my favourite pieces of clothing. I found a nice compliment – the detective rhino.

A lot of people recognized my TD Visa as a Canadian credit card and struck up conversations about Mayor Ford with me. Strange.

There wasn't much more to my time in Melbourne, unfortunately. I went to a recommended Mexican restaurant and discovered what Horchata was, then took a cab back to the Space Hotel hostel where I was staying.

Two ads at the Perth airport bathroom:

1.  Did you know the emergency number in Australia isn't 911, but 000. If you call 911, a kangaroo will come and kick you in the face. Really. Not even joking. What? You don't believe me? Dial it, then. But then have 000 on speed dial. But not 001 – that's for pizza. And 007 is for spies.

2. Aussies want you to get laid on holiday. I will tell you I'm not seeking that out, but good on the government for wanting to increase its population. It's already 22.6 million, let's make it 22.7, people. Get busy.

Can't wait to see the millions of crab. It really is a wonder.

There's apparently no cell reception there unless you have a Telstra phone, so I'll be out for a while until I get to Sydney on Saturday.

Watch this video in the meantime:

Behind the scenes of the red crab migration – Christmas Island 2012 from Parks Australia on Vimeo.

On to the Next Adventure

To Melbourne!

Our media trip officially ended yesterday and Natalie and I spent the night over at the Shangri-La Hotel in Cairns.

Waiting to board a flight to Melbourne for a whirlwind 16 hours in the city. It’ll be great. There’s a Queen Victoria Night Market that just began its annual run Wednesday nights, so I’m looking forward to checking that out.

It will be refreshing to be back in a metropolitan city after spending a week in the Australian bush. At the heart of it, I’m a city girl. I love exploring unknown cities. Even though some may say they’re all the same; they’re not. I hear Melbourne is high on the arts and food scale.

So I will get into the city around 4 p.m., dump my bags off at the Space Hotel and head off into the city.

And walk.

And walk.

And walk.

Best way to get to know a place is to just get lost in it. I have until about 7 a.m. the next morning before I need to be at the airport to fly to Perth and then to ChristmasIsland. Yes, the crabs! Looking at pictures on Facebook, it looks like they’re migrating already. Prime pinchy viewing.

Some things about the last few days in Queensland:

People are passionate about the things they’re into.

Case in point: We went to a turtle rehabilitation clinic, river cruises, nature walks in the rainforest and a bat hospital. Every one of our guides was 110% emerged into their specialty and research to the point where even someone in our group said, “There’s passion – and then there’s far gone.”

The founder of the bat hospital lambasted the media for spreading the “bad rap” of these creatures, to which they are “cute and cuddly” to her. “What’s a koala bear ever done for the environment? All they do is eat toxic leaves,” she said.

But as our tour guide Stevie pointed out – these bats are now flocking to cities by the hundreds, roosting in fig and mango trees. They shit everywhere, peeling the paint off cars and though rare, do carry a disease that humans can contract. In more rural areas, they eat the fruit and crops off farms.

When I was interviewing Jenny, the bat clinic founder, she was going off on the media for bats’ poor public image, but when I gave her a chance to speak about the benefits of these bats, she didn’t have much to say. If you’re going to invite reporters to your hospital, then shit all over their profession – you should probably have something informative to say that goes against what was previously reported.

That’s just my opinion, though.

The trip to Queensland has been fantastic. We’ve been taken behind the scenes in many cases and given a great overview of Australian wildlife. The group has been decent as well. Everyone's been getting along.

So, here are things I’ve learned:

• Wallabies don’t like to share with others. But moms with joeys in their pouches are quite friendly and will go up to you, unabashed

• Kangaroo meat is quite tender; wallaby meat is tougher than a well-done steak
• Green ants are intimidating to eat, but give off an explosive citrus flavour I’ve never tasted in all the limes and lemons I’ve ever consumed
• Kangaroos can hold off on their pregnancy until there is a better climate (temperature, food), and even pause their pregnancy. Amazing.
• Bats are called “flying foxes”
• Crocodiles are most vulnerable up to the age of six. Other crocs are cannibalistic
• Helmet diving is fun and strange
• I still flounder in open bodies of water
• Pillows shielding your face make you feel better when a giant-ass junebug erratically flies around the room at night
• Always wear SPF45. Always wear bug repellant. Doesn’t matter what time of day
• You have to toss down a spear with great force to piece through a mud crab
• Toads are poisonous; frogs are not
• Don’t touch any plants unless someone knowledgeable of the flora tells you to
• Simon was right – everything in Australia will kill you twice before you even know it! (I kid. Australia is awesome)

32.

The kind people at Rose Gums Wilderness Retreat helped me ring in 32 this morning with sparklers and a buttery muffin.

Endearing way to start the day.

We almost had an "Almost Famous moment" on the bus yesterday as we drove through more rural parts of Australia.

Our vehicle passed by the Rodeo drive-in movie theatre twice on the way to the retreat. I took note they were playing Planes 2 and Thor.

Most of the people on the bus were asleep and then Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" came on in my headphones. And in my head, I pictured us cranking the song like in that movie scene and everyone's singing, "Count the headlights on the highway."

Of course, that was in my head, but it played out nicely.

A lot of things have changed a year to this day. I remember being pretty miserable last year. And now, life is fucking grand. I have so many good things in my life, so many life changes since 365 days ago. All for the better. I would've never thought I'd be in Australia today. So lucky.

I love being 32. I love getting older and the knowledge and experience that comes with it. I'm still so young.

Today, we're going to be doing a rainforest walk and checking out a bat hospital, which I am looking forward to. They call them "flying foxes here."

Yesterday, we went to Granite Gorge Nature Park where we petted lots of wallabies. They weren't too keen on sharing with each other and one bit my palm while desperately grabbing my paper food bag. Still cute, though. Can't be mad at them for too long; they're too cute.

 

Oh, and here's our treehouse that we're staying in.

The Life Aquatic, minus Steve Zissou

Sun columnist Simon Kent warned me that “everything in Australia will kill” me, but I think the part of the itinerary that made me most nervous was being in open water.

We boarded a catamaran at Port Douglas (about 15 mins. from Thala Beach Resort) operated by Quicksilver. This cruise operator brings customers to Agincourt Reef, part of the Great Barrier Reef where they can partake in certified diving, an intro course to diving – or, my choice, if you aren’t very comfortable in water and are clearly not fit for survival – helmet diving.

They call it “ocean walking.”

First, Quicksilver staff ask your group up to the top level of the catamaran and ask you to fill out a medical questionnaire. I felt the process was a bit invasive because they were asking what specific medications people were on and what they were specifically used for openly in front of strangers. It was a bit awkward. Could’ve used a bit more tact, to be honest.

Once approved, you get a wet suit and you get into a thicker wet suit. The Quicksilver folks put a weight belt on you. The helmet itself is a substantial 34 kilos., but feels virtually weightless as you enter the water.

A group of six people will slow make their way down a flight of stairs underwater to a rusty metal platform. From there, three divers and a cameraman begin interacting with you as you’re breathing normally in this glass head bubble and holding onto a rail with one hand.

It’s pretty incredible.

Schools of fish dart towards you and aren’t afraid to get up close and personal. I made friends with a buck-toothed red snapper who, in my opinion, was giving me the stink-eye. But I loved him anyway.

(What is with Australian animals giving me the stink-eye? First crocs, now fish?)

The Quicksilver diver began picking up ocean artifacts, including a freakish-looking red sea cucumber. I didn’t exactly know what to do with it until he grabbed my hand and placed it on this gummy-textured creature.

Ah, OK. You want me to touch it.

And appearing to be in slow motion, he began spinning it around on the tip on his index finger and batted it over to my direction. He did the same thing as he made his way down the assembly line.

The experience lasts roughly 15 mins. or so. There’s embarrassing video of us that I have purchased.

Thoughts of Bill Murray hunting after the Jaguar shark ran through my mind. It really was an incredible thing to hang out with all the colourful fish.

I also tried snorkeling for a bit, but ended up floundering about in the reef, despite having the safety net of a yellow life jacket. Need a bit more help with that one.

Back on land!

Apparently, we’re going to learn how to spear a fish today on an indigenous people’s walk. Oh, those crazy Aussies.

Where the Wild Things Are

Quick post.

Then off to bed.

Hugging a koala bear was like hugging a fatter version of Wampa with much sharper claws.

Wombats are amazing.
 
You don't want to fuck with crocodiles, though their meat is delicious.

Kangaroos are adorable, but they will punch you if you try to hitch a ride in their pouch.

I'll elaborate further soon.

 

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

It's 6 a.m. Thursday (Nov. 21) in Cairns.

Need to check out in an about two hours so we can hug koalas and go to a crocodile farm. I cannot believe this is my life.

I will be turning 32 in four days. But I'm not the only one with a birthday on this trip. Natalie is celebrating her 34th on the 23rd and another girl has a birthday on the 24th and mine follows her the next day. Odd and exciting.

We arrived in Cairns yesterday after a 17.5 hours on two airplanes – a new record, I must say.

Jet-lagged, greasy haired and with non-deodorized armpits, we dumped our bags off and met up with the group to head to Fitzroy Island, located 45 minutes (30 km.) from Cairns. After a scenic ride and a lunch with a tropical view, we headed to the island's Cairns Turtle Rehabilitation Centre.

The organization formed 13 years ago, but it's been here at the island for roughly three. It's a non-profit group run on a few dozen volunteers. They will get calls from rangers for injured or sick turtles found in The Great Barrier Reef and pick them up by boat. From there, volunteers will x-ray the animals and then nurse them back to health, which could take up to two years. Afterwards, on select turtles, they will put a satellite device on them to track where they go, if they survive, to continue the research. Pretty neat. Here's the co-founder Jennie Gilbert with Harry, the baby green sea turtle.

After the centre, we took a hike to Nudey Beach. False advertising. Not a naked person anywhere. Actually, the beach – with its unique white shells and rocks – was named after Captain Nudey. Bet he got eaten alive in middle school.

In the evening after a much-needed shower, we sampled some local Australian fare.

Check out the plate of Australian anti-pasto.

Starting on the left: emu, medium-rare kangaroo, crocodile wontons and smoked salmon with green ants. Being the fat food person I am, I was really pumped for all of it... minus the green ants. The kangaroo was more tender than I expected, the emu was a bit dry, and the crocodile was delicious.

Then I thought, Fuck it. Ant-e up. Momofuku's David Chang was raving about these green ants renowned for their citrus flavour, which I can attest, really does pop in your mouth. I think one of them got stuck in my teeth and it was this overpowering taste of lemon on palette. One slice was enough for me, though.

My choice for the main course was wallaby – baby kangaroo. Much tougher meat than expected, but surprisingly, not as gamey-tasting. Probably wouldn't order it again. It's the last picture on the bottom.

Oh, one more thing. Bats. There are a shitload (this is an appropriate term, trust me) of them on fig and mango trees in Carins. I'm talking about hundreds and hundreds on a single one. Our driver who picked us up from the airport warned us not to walk under these trees. There's something in their feces that make humans and horses ill and can take the paint right off the cars. Apparently, a little boy was killed by the bite of one of these giant things a few years ago. I took some video of them circling the night sky, which I'll upload later.