Glenariff Forest Park

Waterfall heaven!

The traveller returns home

A couple of months ago, we were lucky enough to get home for a couple of weeks. To say I was a happy wee bunny, would be an understatement of epic proportions.

In this clip, I show off the jewel in Northern Ireand's crown, The Antrim Coast. A two hour drive which often appears in the top ten drives in the world, it is my favourite place in the whole world.

It was great to be home!

The view from the apartment

Well folks,

It took us a few weeks and after going a wee bit 'rental mental' we found ourselves a modest wee apartment in the heart of Brisbane city.

The apartment may be modest but the view, as you can see from the pic above, most definitely is not. Just across the Brisbane river, you can see the skyscrapers of Brisbane's Central Business District (CBD).

To the right of the pic, you can see the impressive Story Bridge dominate the skyline. It may not be Sydney Harbour but it's more than enough to please this country fella.

Yep - I'm deifnitely in Australia!

Pulling an Aussie Bird...

Taken from a recent camping trip to Moreton Island, just off SE Queensland.

Whilst trying (unsuccessfully) to fish for flathead fish, this friendly pelican came over for a wee nosey. And some free grub.

And I was only too happy to oblige.

The trip was a welcome respite from the bustle of the city and although we didn't catch any fish, we saw dolphins, stingrays, kookaburras, lizards and snakes.

And of course, managed to sink a few XXXX along the way.

I could used to this lifestyle...

The Traveller Returns Home – Part 1

(Rock Werchter 2007 - yes, we looked that good!)

G’Day Folks!

Greetings once again from back on the far side of the world, The Sunshine Coast, Queensland, Australia.

Before I go any further, I’d like to thank those people that had so much positive things to say about my column; and some of you weren’t even related to me! (You know who you are) It is great to hear (and quite humbling) that some people back home are getting a little enjoyment from my amateurish attempts to be a writer.

Now some of you may already know that I, along with my girlfriend Krissy, have been on a little bit of an extended vacation for the past few weeks (hence the lack of activity on the weekly column!)

For four weeks, we took in the delights that Belgium, Amsterdam, Taipei and of course, my – as well as your - beautiful homeland had to offer.

Presently, after just over a week back Down Under, things have calmed down enough for me to get reacquainted with the intimidating, flashing cursor on my laptop screen as my words chase it across the empty, unforgiving, white blankness.

So here it is - as I offer a (hopefully) brief synopsis of the past few weeks. Although I do feel a two-part series in the making…

Saturday, 23rd June, the night before departing Brisbane, it was a very excited couple that packed their backpacks in preparation for the journey. Even Krissy’s mother got involved in all the excitement as she frantically washed and dried clothes that we simply couldn’t travel without.

Many items that, of which it has to be said, were not employed throughout our trip at all; the unnecessary extra baggage something that I was to curse as we ran through Amsterdam train station frantically trying to get to the airport on time.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

With backpacks packed, we cracked open a bottle of red and toasted our upcoming vacation and spent the rest of the evening excitedly talking about all the things we had planned.

And there was plenty to talk about.

The following four weeks would see us firstly spend eight days back in Belgium, where we were to hang out with some of my closest friends and go to the annual Rock Werchter festival, the barn-storming five-day event which sees upwards of 90,000 sweaty Belgians – with a few foreigners thrown in as well - in a field watching some of the biggest bands on the planet.

Apart from it being the finest music event that I have ever experienced and something that I have enjoyed for the last 6 years, it is also important to me for a couple of other reasons.

Firstly, my birthday always falls at the same time of the year. This year’s ‘celebration’ was to bring me to the halfway of my biblically-allotted time on God’s Green Earth at one score, fifteen years young.

Secondly, the festival was where Krissy and I had met the previous year and a lot has happened in those intervening twelve months, not least of all of course, my departure from Europe for the Southern Hemisphere to live on the other side of the world with her. So it was our first anniversary of sorts. Bless.

After that, we were heading across to spend twelve days in Northern Ireland, quite possibly the longest period of time that I have spent home in the past 10 years.

Our time there was to be spent hanging out with my lovely family, to do some sight-seeing and of course to take part in the Twelfth of July celebrations - bonfire, parade, the whole nine yards.

This has always been a hugely important event for my father’s side of the family - especially seeing as he shares his birthday with it. Or it shares his birthday depending on who you listen to. As a kid I used to listen to him but now that I’ve all grown up I know a lot of what my dad says has to be taken with a huge pinch of salt!

Following that, we were to spend two nights in ‘Amsterdamage’ and then break up the long trip back to Australia with a 24 hour stop-over in Taipei, before arriving back in Brisbane International airport at nine am on Friday 20th July.

After working hard in the weeks leading up to our trip to ensure that our desks were cleared we were more than ready for the vacation. However, the work offered some welcome distraction as I deliberately gave the trip scant thought as the months slowly turned to weeks turned to days leading up to our departure.

As the date loomed ever closer and with us having stayed in on many an occasion to save up our measly Aussie dollars to survive a month in Euro and Pound land, I can honestly say that the excitement became almost overwhelming that Saturday night. Of course it could have been the red wine – a particularly fruity number, priced at around a whole three pounds.

But now, NOW, the trip was most definitely on. Needless to say, we didn’t sleep too well that night. Even with the wine in our system.

**

For anyone that hasn’t realised already, Australia is a long, long, LONG way from Ballyclare but I don’t think even I appreciated just how far I was from home.

The first leg of our trip – a monstrous forty-one hour door to door trip involving planes, trains and automobiles soon put paid to that; and that was only to get me as close to home as Antwerp. Ballyclare would have to wait for another few days.

I would just like to say now to the people of Ballyclare that Belgium really is a fantastic country - definitely not the boring place that I imagined it to be before my career choice unexpectedly took me there. (And no – I’m not on commission!)

Any country that offers a colourful history with grand and glorious architecture, fantastic restaurants on every corner, enough clothes shops to keep even the most fashion conscious interested and – ahem 24-hour drinking – is a country that most definitely gets my vote.

On top of this, in my experience the Belgians are wonderful people – very modest, humble and extremely laid back but with a wicked sense of humour thrown in for good measure. I look back at my seven years spent there with very fond memories. Needless to say, I was extremely excited to get back in amongst my old stomping ground.

So, after dropping our luggage off at our friends’ house in the centre of Antwerp, jumping into a quick but much needed shower, there was only place for us to go to start our vacation, my ‘local’ in the city, Café Old Trafford.

Being a Liverpool supporter, I made a promise to myself to never, ever drink in the place but after being coerced by a drinking partner a couple of years ago, I’ve never looked back; except for the rare time that Liverpool beat ManYoo.

I met some of the loveliest people on the planet in that place - and not all of them even supported ManYoo.

Getting into the bar around two in the afternoon, we were proudly shown the refurbishment work that had taken place in the bar in my absence (in no small part funded by myself I’m sure) by the owners, an English guy called Gerald and his lovely Flemish wife, Gisele, who are affectionately known to the customers as the ‘G-Team.’

The bar – painted Man United red of course – is awash with all sorts of football-related memorabilia, with much of it unfortunately of the Man United flavour. But I’m also pleased to report that a whole wall is dedicated to our favourite son, George Best.

On the “George Best Wall” there are many items that have been contributed by the two proud members of the Green and White Army that frequent the place - my mate from Newtownards who has lived in Antwerp for 13 years and of course yours truly.

These range from Northern Ireland flags, scarves and pictures of the Great Man himself, one of which was supplied by my mum, as well as a Ballyclare Comrades pennant that I crow-barred onto the wall before I left. I was pleasantly surprised to see a wee photo of me outside Sydney Opera House had magically joined my much more illustrious compatriot up on the wall as well.

The afternoon continued in high spirits and it is not without a certain amount of embarrassment that I inform you that I soon fell to the evils of jet-lag. Or could it have been my emotional and enthusiastic reunion with my Belgian girlfriend, Stella Artois?

Either way, this soon-to-be-35-year-old Ballyclarian was walked - or as she likes to put it, carried, home at ten in the evening mid-party by his younger (and a lot more sober) Aussie girlfriend.

A couple of days later, after catching up with some of our other friends in similar drunken environments it soon came the turn of the Rock Werchter festival.

You’ll be pleased to hear that I won’t bore you with most of the gory details (and believe me, there are many) from those five days. Suffice to say that we had a great time, getting our freak on to such luminaries from the music world as Pearl Jam, The Beastie Boys, The Killers, The Kaiser Chiefs, The Chemical Brothers, Faithless, Queens of the Stone Age, Muse and Metallica.

However, the highlight of the weekend had to be the time spent enjoying the performance from our fellow country-men, Snow Patrol. Your two proud ambassadors from our wee country put on our “wee Norn Iron Taps” and brought our “wee flegs” to the festival especially for this performance.

And don’t Snow Patrol know it.

Bedecked in our green, we, along with our very understanding female companions, wormed our way through the masses to take our – as we thought rightful - place at the front to welcome “Our Band” on stage.

As soon as they appeared on stage, the flags went up and the two of us guldered the way only people from home can to welcome them into the festival.

There was no escaping us as Gary Lightbody and the boys took to the stage. Lord knows what they, or the Belgians, made of it all but I have subsequently heard that we made it onto Belgian National TV. The gospel of Our Wee Country spreads proudly throughout the world!

The only thing that would have been better was if our very own Andy Cairns and his band Therapy? had performed as well. Incidentally, Therapy? have performed at Rock Werchter more times than anyone else – a record that they share with REM, no less.

The day after the festival, we had to take our fragile, rock-festival-abused bodies, straining under the weight of our backpacks by train from Antwerp to Schiphol Airport, near Amsterdam.

According to my itinerary, the flight left at 13:15, so the 10:30 train would have been time enough. However, past travel experiences have taught me that it is always better to allow for the unexpected, so with that in mind we caught the 09:30 train which was to take us directly to Amsterdam airport.

Thanks to technical difficulties, our train was first delayed, and then diverted; we had to change trains twice only to be taken to Amsterdam Central train station instead of the airport.

Arriving into the train station, with the time seconds before midday, we had less than an hour and a quarter before our flight was to leave. So, with trains leaving every fifteen minutes, we made a mad dash from our platform to the platform where the 12:00 train was only seconds from departing.

With my overweight backpack slowing me down, it was touch and go getting on the train with the automatic doors almost closing on my backpack as the train departed. Breathing heavily, but relieved nonetheless, we made the short trip to the airport and arrived with 25 minutes until check-in was to close.

Dashing through the airport, we frantically scanned the departure boards to see where we had to check-in. Only to find that there was absolutely no mention of our flight.

Heart sinking, I assumed that we had missed it, so we made a heartbreaking trek to the EasyJet desk to try and arrange a flight home for the following day. When I asked what time the flight to Belfast left, I received a rather confused response from the girl as she explained that the flight didn’t leave until 16:15.

Feeling the death stare of my beloved burning holes in the back of my head, I turned round to face the music which of course, I rightly deserved. Still, at least we hadn’t missed the flight, and so it was that a hung-over, exhausted couple retired to the bar to pass almost 4 hours of time before I was to finally head home.

The trip to the centre of the universe that is Ballyclare was back on!
Please bear with me as next week I recount the tale of my long awaited trip home. Thanks for listening.

God Save Our Gracious Sheila

Hello again folks,

With the time gone 5pm I'm starting to get the Friday Buzz, so just a few short words before the weekend can begin in earnest and I head off to the pub.

In 9 days time I leave the Land of Oz and make my way back up to the Northern Hemisphere on a trip that will involve Taipei, Amsterdam, Antwerp, Rock Werchter Festival and last - but by no means least, Northern Ireland.

Yep - I'm heading home for a long overdue trip.

It's difficult to get too excited about the trip just yet because of all the work that I have on at the moment but the light at the end of the tunnel is definitely starting to glow.

Apart from work to keep me distracted, there was also the long weekend that we just had in Australia. The reason? Nonbe other than the Queen's Birthday. Except it wasn't the Queen's birthday at all. Apparently Australia just has a day off a year to celebrate it. Auch, sure you've gotta love these colonials.

The long weekend turned out to be a big event in itself with my first ever stag day/night in Australia. The Aussie blokes didn't disappoint with fishing / a game of cricket / pool tournament and of course alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol, including dentist chair drinking games...

Later that night I got up on stage in a packed Irish Bar to do my terrible, TERRIBLE Michael Flatley Riverdance impersonation. I know I was shite but the Aussies LOVED it! The band stopped playing, the spot light was put on me and the 2-300 people in the place cheered my every move. First time I've done something like that since I came to Belgium, so I guess I must be finding my feet down here.

The Sunday was another highly enjoyable evening, spent at the house of friends in the trendy West End suburb of Brisbane.

Krissy and I are currently looking for somehwere to live in Brisbane - just a short 3-month rental somewhere close to the city. As beautiful as it undoubtedly is, we're going a little STIR CRAZY up on the Sunshine Coast!

This weekend sees the actual wedding, although becuase it is on a Sunday evening, things can't get too out of hand (he says with tongue planted firmly in cheek).

BRING IT ON!!

A Time for Reflection...

G’Day Folks!

I’m pleased to report that this week’s instalment comes to you with the rain hammering off the thin windows of my room at the Redland Bay Motel. Another exciting development over the past few days is that I’ve managed to acquire a rather alarming, but no less spectacular, chesty cough.

I even had to wear a cardigan to the pub this evening, where I spent the time over my two schooners of Castlemaine XXXX Bitter watching the rain bounce of the sun scorched beer-garden like bullets off a super-hero.

Yes folks, the weather has taken a turn for the worse Down Under and more rain is predicted over the coming days. The wettest June on record has even been spoken about, albeit in hopeful whispers and it has to be said that the locals are quite made up about it.

Crikey, but things aren’t half different this side of the planet.

Unfortunately, I can’t share in the collective enthusiasm of those around me as they celebrate the upcoming downpours, for you see, I’ve got a bigger fish to fry.

And that fish comes in the form of my much anticipated trip back home. Exactly one month from now, all being well, I will be landing at Aldegrove Airport and quite frankly, I’m just a little concerned.

I have just spent the early part of this evening sitting outside in temperatures of 18 degrees wearing a cardigan – the one and only item of clothing that I jokingly brought with me as a concession to when things might get “just a wee bit chilly” – and I was never so thankful for having an extra layer of clothing since moving down here.

So what has become of me? Have the ambient temperatures of Australia turned me into a big girl’s blouse? 18 degrees in an early Ballyclare evening would be considered quite balmy – even with the rain - and yet here I am zipping up my cardie to protect myself against the ‘elements’. Thank God I’m returning to the warm bosom of my friends and family is all I can say.

I’m reminded of a guy that I used to play football with during my time in Belgium; 6’4” and full of muscles (unlike the guy in the song from Brussels he is from Essex.) After spending 8 months in the Caribbean on a lucrative contract, he returned to Belgium complaining of the cold, even going so far as to wear a fleece top whilst playing football. Indoor Football.

Could it really be that I’ve wimped out as much as this? Only time will tell and that time is very almost upon me. How exciting is that? OK – perhaps not for most of you reading these words but for me – I’m PUMPED (to use the local vernacular) to be heading back home, if only for a few days.

Not only is today a landmark in that it sees me 4 short weeks from home but it is also exactly 7 months since I arrived in Australia. 7 months, since I left the safety blanket of a world that I was familiar with - a world where, even if working and living outside of Northern Ireland – I was never more than a short hop by plane from home.

So what of the last 7 months? What has the Australian experience been like so far for me? I hope you’ll forgive me the wee indulgence of some time (and Ballyclare Gazette space) for some contemplation…

During my time here, I’ve experienced many things - some of them good, some of them bad.

I’ve moved in with Krissy, the love of my life – a girl that I barely knew before moving here it has to be said - but someone with whom I feel complete (as cliché and corny as that sounds). I’ve been adopted by her family and friends and in spite of all the problems that that might have caused for all concerned, we’re all still on speaking terms, which is an achievement in itself.

I’ve stroked koalas and watched kangaroos in their natural habitat, I’ve been woken by dingoes during the night whilst camped in the middle of a rainforest and then been woken by the crazy laugh of the kookaburra, before promptly driving my potential father-in-law’s car into the middle of a sand dune and burnt its clutch, leaving us stranded for days.

I’ve experienced the delights of The Gold Coast, Brisbane, The Sunshine Coast and its surrounds and stood completely in awe as I surveyed that most iconic of landscapes, Sydney Harbour. Sydney also provided me with the opportunity to spend time with my lovely cousin Janette and her fantastic family as I was treated to some fine Northern Irish hospitality (is there any finer?), that had me hankering – not for the last time - for the shores of home.

I’ve struggled with living on a budget and without a job, without a right to even get a job, and watched as my girlfriend went back to gainful employment, as I trawled the internet looking for a position with a company who was prepared to deal with the extra baggage of sorting me out with a visa.

Thankfully, this period did not last too long and my new career has had me experiencing the delights of sugar factories in the middle of “whoop whoop” and chicken slaughterhouses at the end of a 2 hour commute. A job that I am enjoying as difficult as it can be at times and let’s not forget - a job that has provided me with the cash to make it back home in time enough for the family to still recognise me and to join in the Twelfth of July celebrations.

The job also provided me with an opportunity to develop my knowledge in my chosen field of expertise with all the challenges it throws at me and it has taken me to Melbourne to increase my knowledge further by way of some specialised training.

My time in Melbourne was worthy of an article in its own, because apart from the training course, it also provided ‘killer’ paintball, a bachelors barbeque, uninvited appearances at birthday parties and ten-pin bowling with a guy called Healy who would have had the GAWA almost as excited as our very own Healy gets us. Not to mention the introduction to a local cuisine called Chicken Parma. Believe me – it has to be tasted to be appreciated.

All this was by way of a friendship with a friend of Krissy - a lovely guy from Middlesbrough named Phil. A guy who along with his girlfriend Helen, spent the last few fun-filled days with us here in the Sunshine Coast and a guy who I wish lived a lot closer.

For you see, it’s been somewhat difficult to make friends of my own down here and that, it has to be said has been a bit of a surprise for me. Having lived away from home since the age of 19, it’s been a given that I would have to fend for myself and with that territory also comes the fact that I’m going to have to get out there and meet people.

The people back home in Ballyclare - and Northern Ireland as a whole - are a friendly lot and to be honest, you’re a hard act to follow.

Don’t get me wrong, Australians are great fun-loving people and I’m enjoying the experience of being in amongst them but – of course there was a but - it’s not home, it’s not family, it’s not friends from back home and I’m really, really looking forward to being back in amongst the people that I love most on God’s, green earth.

The Old Trafford Bar in Antwerp, with all its delusional ManYoo supporting clientele, the Rock Festival at Werchter with my closest friends in Belgium, the delights of Amsterdam and Taipei and beyond are all coming up on this trip and as much as I’m looking forward to all of these (and believe me I am) the days to be spent in Ballyclare are easily the highlight of the trip.

The kitchen session at mother’s, the Back Bar Session at the Ballyboe with my father and brothers and all the usual suspects, the Twelfth of July and seeing all the people that I love on the parade, both walking and watching are all the things that keep me awake at night with excitement.

Which I can tell you, is a helluva lot better than being kept asleep by the thoughts of cockroaches sharing my motel bed,.

Good night and God Bless. I’ll see you all soon!

(Feel free to get in touch – you can email me at JonnyBlackDownUnder@gmail.com)