Thursday, December 07, 2006

The trip from Hell hath endeth and I have found myself in Heaven


I arrived into Brisbane International Airport on what was officially the chilliest November day on record, with temperatures only managing to reach a “chilly” 21°C. The sky was overcast and it started to rain as I made my way to my base for the next while, The Sunshine Coast.

Initial impressions of Australia are that it is similar to the USA. The cars, the highways, the multitude of shops and fast food joints, all remind me of my few months spent on the East Coast of the US, although I don’t expect to encounter too many snow storms during my stay.

Upon my arrival in the wonderfully named town of Mooloolaba, I settled into my base for the next few days - a holiday apartment (or ‘unit’ as it is known down these parts). It’s a splendid wee place, just a stone’s throw away from the sea and as I sleep at night, I can hear the waves crashing against the beach.

Although I hadn’t had much sleep in the previous 48 hours, I was keen to get “in amongst” – as they say round these parts. The town is gorgeous, with generous views of the fantastic, sandy beaches offered as you walk along the esplanade.

As the town is a holiday resort, there are many shops, bars and restaurants along the sea front.

First things first, I had to do a bit of shopping, needing to kit myself with a pair of “boardies” (surfing shorts) and a casual pair of shorts for when I’m not at the beach. Both are made by the company Billabong. I’m sure I still stick out like a sore thumb but at least I feel a wee bit more comfortable.

That evening, I crashed and burned, falling asleep around 20:00 but the following days have been spent at the beach, shopping, watching the Ashes in the same time zone and sampling the Oz night life.

The night life is, erm interesting. There is an Irish pub (of course) rather strangely located within a shopping centre. It boasts a live band performing every night (not the same one) but I have yet to drink in the place, the queue on Saturday to get in proving too much.

Smoking is not permitted inside in any pub, so I would have to leave the pub, walk out of the shopping centre and then have a smoke. Bizarre.

It is one of only 2 late licenses in the place, closing at 03:00. It seems quite a young crowd and a very, very drunk crowd. The bouncers can be a bit of a pain in the arse as well. It’s a lot different from drinking in Belgium, that’s for sure.

The main place to drink it seems is a place called The Wharf Tavern and I have been there on both Friday and Saturday night. It’s a large, sprawling place with live music played both nights in the bar downstairs and a “nite club” upstairs. Outside there is a huge terrace for the smokers, and beside that there are three pool tables with a few televisions showing various sports, dominated mainly by the Ashes cricket series, something that I am enjoying very much.

To say the Aussies are taking the Ashes seriously would be a hell of an understatement.

As an interesting side story to this years’ series, there has been a little bit of controversy in the build up.

A local brewing company, Tooheys, ran an advert campaign which depicts a ‘typical’ English cricket supporter. Fat, white and wearing shorts, socks and sandals, he is offered a cold Tooheys and is frightened about the prospect of indulging in beer that is actually served cold.

The punch line of the ad makes a reference to “Whinging Poms”

Apparently some leftfield organisation that calls themselves “British Against Racism Australia” have been up in arms about the ad campaign, saying that “Poms” is a racist term and that there is no need in today’s modern Australian society for this kind of terminology.

All 14 (!) members of them have their knickers in a twist (or should that be knotted hanky?) and want the ad to be removed. Hilarious indeed and only further living up to the Whinging Pom label.

There is an English bar in town called The Pig ‘n’ Whistle but I keep referring to it as The Pig ‘n’ Chicken, a reference to a bar/restaurant that used to be outside my home town. The name has stuck and as far as I’m concerned that shall be its name.

Not expecting to bump into many people from back home (this area is more of a holiday resort for the Australians rather than foreigners), I have met people from Wales, England, and a fella from Rostrevor called Kieran. Apparently there are a few of his mates in town as well, having decided to leave Northern Ireland eight weeks ago. The bloody Irish are everywhere.

Most people I have met are very nice, the locals seem genuinely interested in the Northern Ireland situation and most of them can speak quite knowledgably on the topic, which is particularly amazing considering how far away we are.

The guys, as expected, can be a wee bit macho but there is no denying their passion for sport, something that I am relishing, although it’s not too easy to find people that know much about football. Football of the English variety that is. Discussions are interesting, lively and enjoyable – provided you know a wee bit of rugby (both codes) and cricket.

The Irish and English bars will show the English Premier games if they’re open at the time, so I’ll be able to see lunchtime and afternoon kick offs but Champions League games are a no no. I can’t find anywhere that will be showing tonight’s Galatasary v Liverpool match. Hardly surprising, considering that the game will be kicking off at Wednesday, 06:45 Mooloolaba time.

I haven’t stretched my wings too far in the past few days, opting instead to hang around here. Which is fine by me – it’s all new to me and the place is gorgeous.

This week however, I’ll be going to look at the nearby Underwater World, Steve Irwin’s Australia Zoo, checking out Noosa a bit further up the coast, and then heading off to Brisbane, which is about an hour away, for the weekend.

The plan after that, if possible, is to embark on a two-week round trip up to Cairns and The Great Barrier Reef and then come back here for Christmas.

I’ll have to get myself a camera soon. The scenery is fantastic and I’d love to share some of the views with you all. Not to mention my blossoming suntan!

Monday, December 04, 2006

The Trip from Hell Continueth


So here I am, on the back end of a trip that would give the movie Planes, Trains and Automobiles a run for its money. I could certainly have done with the entertainment of John Candy and Steve Martin to pass the time as I made my journey Down Under.

Instead, I had to make do with meeting random people such as those in the smokers’ area of the O’Neill’s Plastic Paddy Pub, airside at Terminal 3.

I have to say that I met a few interesting people to pass the time with. There was Efan, the rugby-mad Welshman who, along with some other big Welsh rugby dudes were off to Dubai for the World Sevens tournament for a few days of “Mayhem in the sun” (his words).

We were then joined by Steven, a young English fella whose parents were from the “shithole that is Rathcoole” (his words) a few short miles from the centre of the universe that is my home town, Ballyclare, Northern Ireland.

So, a Welshman, an Englishman and an Irishman were sitting in a bar in Heathrow. Obviously there must be a joke in it somewhere and indeed Celtic brotherhood ensured there were many – mainly at the expense of the Englishman and his underperforming national rugby team.

Eventually, after several encounters with my Belgian girlfriend, Stella Artois, it was time to head off for my flight.

Boarding the plane, I began searching for my home for the next 16 hours, seat 64B in Economy Class and was disappointed to see that it was of course the middle seat of 3 but pleasantly surprised to see that it was at an emergency exit which ensured that I had plenty of legroom.

Perhaps my efforts of laying on the ICO at check-in hadn’t failed as dismally as I had thought.

Ah yes – the famous ‘blag’ for the upgrade to Business Class that I mentioned in the previous blog.

Ahem.

Approaching check-in a few hours previously my attempts at the ICO went as follows:

“I suppose it’s a bit cheeky to ask, but is there any chance of an upgrade for the flight?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes of course there is” came the enthusiastic response from the pretty, young girl at check-in.

“Oh yes?”

“Yes of course – if you pay for it.”

“Ahem – I suppose it was a wee bit cheeky of me”

“Well – it’s only, like the millionth time I’ve been asked that question.”

“Yes I suppose so.” I sheepishly responded.

Nice to see I hadn’t lost it.

But at least I had the legroom that seat 64B offered, which was a small compensation for my clumsy efforts.

The only thing left was to hope that I would not be joined by anyone else either side of me – or at least only one person, so that I could spread myself out and about a bit.

Of course this was not to be as I was firstly joined by a 6ft 5 man in his late 50’s, wearing a tracksuit, sandals and socks and sporting one of the largest noses I have ever seen on a human being. He sat down to my right, immediately squeezing me over to the left in my seat.

Secondly, a rather tough-looking character in his mid-30’s sporting a crew cut and tattoos sat to my left. Not as big as the other guy but displaying an attitude that said I wouldn’t exactly be cuddling up next to him for the duration of the flight.

I looked around the rest of the cabin in search of somewhere else that I would be able to build a nest. The flight was close to capacity. I was in trouble here, so there was no other option but to befriend my travelling companions. A few pleasantries where exchanged and it turned out that both of my new friends were heading off to Bangkok for some R&R.

Ah yes – Bangkok. Unknown to me the flight to Taipei would first be stopping off in Bangkok, introducing a rather unexpected and certainly unwanted addition to my travel itinerary.

As the rest of the passengers boarded, the conversation continued and it soon transpired that the two of them were off to do pretty much the same thing once they reached their destination.

Drink, fuck and drink some more.

“Those fuckin’ Thai girls are fuckin’ gorgeous,” Big Nose growled beside me. I swear to God, he was practically salivating at the prospect.

“Too fuckin’ right mate, they’re lovely. They’d do anything for you”.

“I’ve got a girlfriend over there, she’s fuckin’ tidy, she is. But I’m not interested any more. A man of my age, with girlfriend troubles! I go over there for 4-6 weeks this time every year. It’s what I live for.”

He stopped his monologue as his thoughts drifted off to a place where I really didn’t want to even start thinking about.

But the chat continued with the guys swapping detail after nauseatingly intimate detail of their Bangkok experiences until the first meal was served by the charming and helpful Taiwanese stewardesses. I felt uncomfortable as I became aware of my companions eyeing them up salaciously.

I quickly went for my IPod and went into my own wee world as I sampled the delights of my first in-flight meal on Eva Airways, which was surprisingly tasty.

During the flight, I watched every movie they could throw at me, read some, listened to music and drank several glasses of wine. As expected, sleep did not welcome me and as I struggled uncomfortably in my seat I noticed that the plane was full of several other similar dodgy-looking characters, all of which I assumed, rightly or wrongly, would be getting off the plane at Bangkok.

Thankfully both my companions found sleep rather easier to come by than myself. Obviously they were more used to the long haul experience than I was.

Descending into Bangkok, I looked out at the wonderful scenery and wondered what delights Thailand had to offer. I know it is a beautiful country with spectacular scenery that most of us could only dream about (unless you’ve been to Northern Ireland of course) but I found myself dismayed at the idea of these ambassadors for England who would soon be working their way - and their moves – through Bangkok’s bustling streets.

I was certainly happy to leave them to it.

As all passengers had to leave the plane, irrespective of final destination, I disembarked the plane with my hand luggage and walked into the pristine, airy airport that is Bangkok International airport and went off in search of the nearest smoking room.

Having eventually found it, I walked in and sparked up but I needn’t have bothered. It was disgusting. I took two drags on my cigarette and almost vomited. The air was thick with smoke providing an atmosphere that suggested I had no need for me to light one in the first place.

I left the room almost as soon as I had entered and then embarked on a 20 minute walk through the transit lounge, to international departures and back to the gate where our plane was waiting - the exact same plane that we had recently disembarked.

With a half-hour delay thrown in for good measure, it was a frustrating inconvenience that I could really have done without. I just wanted to get going again. However, with the added delay things were getting a bit stressful for me, as I only had a one hour connection at Taipei before the flight to Brisbane. If I missed that flight, I would have to spend 24 hours in Taipei airport, waiting on the next flight to Brisbane. Obviously something that I wanted to avoid at all costs.

Sitting in the same seat, I feared the worst as to whom I would be sharing the next flight with. Things looked bad when Big Nose had been replaced by an Asian guy who was almost as wide as he was tall.

Thankfully, no other passenger showed up, so I was able to scoot across to the window seat but my relief at this was soon replaced by an increasing worry about the connecting flight to Brisbane as the plane sat for a further half hour before take off.

I asked a stewardess would I still be ok.

“The flight to Brisbane leaves at 22:00, yes?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Yes – it should be no problem; the plane to Brisbane will wait for you.”

“Should be no problem” was not exactly the answer that I was looking for, but there was little else that I could do, so I settled into my seat and turned on my IPod.

I am pleased to report that about an hour and a half of the three hour flight was gratefully spent by me in some sort of sleep. It was the fist sleep I had managed in about 24 hours and was long overdue.

As we made our descent, the lights of Taipei made it look a vast and interesting city, although I have to say that up until now, I knew of nothing of note about the place but I was reliably informed by the in-flight entertainment that the city is the proud host of the world’s tallest building, with the world’s fastest elevator inside.

I looked out of the window during our descent hoping for a glimpse of this building but amongst the neon-lit horizon of the city it was nowhere to be seen. I guess it must have been visible on the other side of the plane.

By the time I had disembarked, I was left with 15 minutes to catch my flight, meaning that I had little option but to engage in a brisk charge through the terminal, fight my through the queues at security and being one of the last passengers to board, a sweaty and flustered frazzle. Unknown to me there had been 14 of us on the Taipei flight that were in the same position, and the flight was waiting for us to board. So no panic needed.

I settled into my seat beside a girl I had recognized from the previous flight who had arrived just in front of me. I recognized her because she had also made a bolt off the plane as quickly as I had.

We exchanged introductions and settled into our 9 hour flight, both glad that we had made it onto the plane.

Having watched all the movies in the previous flights, I was dismayed to see that the movies on this flight were exactly the same. Scrolling through the personal entertainment system, I saw there were a few Asian movies to choose from as well, so I found myself passing 4 hours watching a Japanese movie about street dancing and a South Korean movie about a woman who trapped a rich playboy by getting pregnant and then marrying him. Apparently it was a comedy.

Aware that the cabin was in total darkness and that Pam, the girl beside me was trying to sleep, I decided against turning on my reading light and instead ended up listening to my IPod for the rest of the flight, dozing off sporadically but for the most part just blearily looking into the middle distance contemplating what I was about to embark on.

An hour before our expected arrival, the cabin lights were switched back on and breakfast was served, after which we prepared ourselves for arrival into Brisbane International Airport, touching down about 10 minutes behind schedule.

After a quite intensive questioning by customs and then a thorough search of my backpack by a rather apologetic customs official, I was through customs and into the arrivals lounge of Brisbane International Airport.

My Great Adventure had begun.

The Trip from Hell Beginneth



OK Folks,

This is the start of my epic journey – a journey that will take me waaaaaayyyy out of my comfort zone and to the Other Side of the World.

Over the next days, weeks, months, it is my intention to use this as a log of My Great Adventure. I’m not saying it’s going to be funny, meaningful, poignant or even mildly interesting but obviously I hope it will be all of the above. At least some of the time.

I’ve said the goodbyes to my life in Belgium.

For now.

I’ve said my goodbyes to my friends and family back home.

For now.

It was an emotional time for me. Those of you that know me also know the value I place on my family and friends. Without these people, I would not find myself in this position – on a sabbatical from the day job and waiting for my flight to Brisbane.

Ah yes, the waiting.

The first leg of the journey – a 13:10 flight from the newly renamed George Best Belfast City Airport had proved a breeze. Apart from the tearful goodbye to mother, of course.

A friend of the family pulled a few strings and got me bumped up to business class for the flight to Heathrow, bumped me right through the queue at security and then got me access to the business lounge which ensured a quick free drink and priority boarding.

Nice.

But all that seems a distant memory already.

Having landed in Heathrow at 14:25, I now have the prospect of killing time until the next leg – a 10hr 50 min flight to Taipei departing at 21:30 – can begin. I’ve never been the best at killing time on my own, so this is my safety blanket, a pleasant distraction – typing these words in a typical faceless airport restaurant.

With alcohol, laptop, IPod and cigarettes, I shall make it through this trip. Although there won’t be too much of the latter on the planes and even now – smoking is prohibited everywhere in Terminal 3 apart from “Designated Areas.”

That would be stood outside in the cold November air then; where we huddle like shifty burglars “casing a joint”, furtively checking each other out and the people that walk past, like the social lepers we are.

I started smoking a year and a half ago, at the ripe old age of 33. I think perhaps it’s time to nail it on the head.

After I go through my duty free purchases, that is.

Ah yes – Duty Free.

I’ve heard about this place and have read signs directing me to it and I’m pretty sure that it really does exist but with a 20 kilo backpack to check in and a flight that doesn’t leave for another 5 hours, I am resigned to dragging it around with me until those lovely people at Eva Airways will take it off me.

Whenever that will be.

Ticket desk doesn’t open until 18:00 and there are no signs of them checking in for my flight, so it looks like I’ll be here for a while.

I’m going to try and blag an upgrade to Business Class – sure you never know. One can only ask. As a wise woman used to say to me “You’ve already got a no – you can only get a yes.”

Or something like that.

Anyway, wish me luck.

So now, as I drain the contents of my Becks and the “Low battery” warning comes on, I shall bid you all farewell.

Until we ‘meet’ again.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Oh - and before I forget...

...you can follow the next chapter, no matter how short, on my new blog at:

http://australiaisoz-some.blogspot.com/

Thanks for tuning in...

Goodbye Belgium.....for now

Dear Family, Friends, Acquaintances, Discerning Surfer, Random Person Who Stumbled Across My Wee Corner of Cyberspace:

This is it.

Belgium is no more for me.

At least in terms of living here.

For a while.

The time has come for me to spread my wings and fly. Something that I have threatened to do repeatedly for at least the last three years but none of us (including me) ever thought would actually happen.

Yes Folks - I am leaving Belgium.

I look at that last sentence and I still cannot believe it, even though I am typing these words in the wee hours of the morning (very quietly) in the spare bedroom of my friends’ house, friends who have kindly put me up for my last two nights of my stay in this wee country on the shoulder of Europe that most of us call Belgium but a place that I have called (and indeed thought of) as my adopted home for the last 6 and a half years.

The unthinkable has actually happened – I have finally taken the plunge, bitten the bullet, jumped recklessly on a leap of faith, or just plain ran away – depending on how you look at it – from the longest chapter of my adult life.

So, have I finally chosen a to leave the best friends I have on the planet to return to God’s Own Country and return to my home to be surrounded by my loving family?

Erm….

No.

Have I been offered a dream job somewhere that I just could not resist? (Angelina Jolie’s bikini consultant on some tropical island, for example?)

Erm….

No, again.

Am I leaving on a project that will take me out of Belgium for a while and then bring me back, before I’m even missed?

Erm, again the answer would have to be no.

The truth is I have taken a sabbatical from my job, given up all my employee privileges, moved out of my apartment, dumped a lot of stuff out of my life (with Oxfam being worthy recipients of a lot of it – such charming old ladies), placed everything else in storage, bought a backpack which is now filled to bursting - along with a hold-all and the by now famous “gay bag” - which now lie here, expectant, beside me.

Because….

I am going on a bit of an adventure.

For good, for better, or for worse, I am leaving Belgium.

I am leaving it for that country just around the corner of the world, the one where the beasties seem to be like something out of a post-nuclear war disaster movie, the place where “barbies” are king, everyone wears “boardies” and “double-plugged thongs”, sport is a way of living, crocodile hunting is a natural pastime, stingrays are fatal (along with practically everything else), and even the cuddliest inhabitant of them all, the koala, carries syphilis. (CRIKEY !!!)

A contrasting hotbed of entertainment that has spawned such big and small screen classics as Neighbours, Home and Away, Mad Max, Flying Doctors, Crocodile Dundee and Irresistible.*

* = I watched this movie last night – “Not Great” would have to be the verdict, although there was a scary bit of steam-iron action in the opening scenes. Sorry if I spoiled it for you…

Yes Folks, I’m off Down Under to try my luck there for a while.

It’s certainly not because I really did find Belgium boring (as I’m sure you all realise) but the time has come to explore, find myself, see somewhere different, whatever it is, the time is now.

I’d just like to take this opportunity to say thanks to everyone that I’ve met along the way. You’re too many too mention and as this is anonymous blog, I’m not going to anyway.

But, knowing how I am, I’m sure you already know who you are.

I’d also like to take this opportunity to say that I’ve met a few assholes along the way but once again, I’m sure you already know who you are.

I’m away for a while but I know in my heart how I feel. In the words of that finest US congressman, Termninator, I’ll be back.

In the meantime, take care of each other – at least the ones that you care about.

Lots of love.
Me

xxx

Saturday, November 11, 2006

God's Own Country



I’ve just returned from a few days back home in Northern Ireland and I would just like to share the following with you:


Northern Ireland is the most fantastic place on the planet.


Of course I’m fiercely proud of where I come from.

Of course I may be somewhat biased in my observation.

Of course I may be suitably PUMPED having spent some time in the loving bosom of friends and family.


But what I am most definitely not is totally blinded by my love of my roots. I am merely stating fact – Northern Ireland is a fantastic wee country.


Over the years, I have been fortunate enough to be able to invite people over to see where I come from and even more fortunate that they have accepted the invitation. I mean, after all, based on the world’s media coverage, my wee country has been demonised at every opportunity thanks to the shocking events of the past 35 years and the media’s thinking that “Good News is No News.”


Thankfully, however, people have managed to see beyond that, trusted me and gone over and seen first-hand for themselves the wee country that is my home. And over the years none of them, and I mean none of them, have been disappointed with their experiences.


Why would this be? Why have people come over to Northern Ireland and left the place suitably impressed by what they’ve seen?


Get yer arses over there and find out for yourselves!!


But to help you, here are a few pointers:


The Northern Irish hospitality is second to none

It is quite simply one of the most scenic places on the planet

It’s cheaper than Dublin.

It’s a more authentic “Irish” experience than the tourist-chasing Republic of Ireland. You only have to see some of our famous landmarks and the understated way that they are dealt with to see what I mean by this.

It has some of the finest beaches in the British Isles.

The Antrim Coast Road is a spectacular drive and repeatedly appears on top 10 drives in the world lists.

We’re fantastic story tellers (although this blog might not prove that)

And last but not least…


We’ve got the FUCKING GIANT’S CAUSEWAY!!!


Shove that up yer “authentic, traditional, blackthorn leprechaun’s pipe” and smoke it!!

;-)

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Australia is Oz-some - the first post!!




OK Folks,


(Well, Skippy, for the moment)

This is my next blog, the originally titled "Australia is Oz-some" - a little corner of cyberspace dedicated to my experiences as a wee country fella from Northern Ireland setting off on the biggest adventure of my life - a move over to Australia to sample the delights that that most beautiful of countries has to offer.

Wee bit nervous at the prospect but good or bad I know that it's going to be a HUGE ADVENTURE.

Perhaps I'll come back with my tail between my legs, perhaps not but it's something that I've got to try. I'd regret it forever if I hadn't. Yes, it's a step into the unknown but feck it, I'm the Intrepid Traveller, I'm not that bad a fella - surely Australia will be kind to me?

We'll soon find out!!

Talk to you soon.

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE WONDERFUL PEOPLE OF BELGIUM

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE WONDERFUL PEOPLE OF BELGIUM I have seen the Noel Gallagher comments on the city of Brussels and how boring it is and I...