julescoleman.com

Holå mi amigos, it’s time for another update from the road. This time its all about our time on Fraser Island, one of the only islands in the world that is made entirely of sand. Its a UNESCO listed World Heritage site and a pretty amazing place to visit. But before we could get out to the island we had to spend a night in Hervey Bay.

Hervey Bay itself isn’t much of a draw but its well located for catching the barge to Fraser so it has become a bit of a staple of the backpacking circuit. We stayed at the Beaches Hostel where we met a couple of Irish travellers, one known only as ‘Power’ seemed to be doing his best to drink his way through his travelling budget as quickly as possible. I think he’d been in Hervey Bay about a week by the time we got there and had done nothing but prop up the bar at hostel. The other traveller was a Northern Irish guy, Matthew, who was in Oz on a working visa and had been working at the hostel for the past month. He was a mine of information in terms of what was best avoided on the menu (3 day old re-heated lasagne) and what to expect on Fraser. He disappeared pretty quickly though as soon as the sun went down muttering something about being afraid of bats. Before we even had a chance to explain our Extreme Clothes Hanging game to him, the sky changed from dusky hues to darkness as literally tens if not hundreds of thousands of bats flew overhead. Apparently this is a nightly ritual with the bats leaving their living quarters somewhere close to Hervey Bay and flying to Fraser Island to feed for the night. The picture doesn’t really do it justice.

When heading to Fraser Island you have two options:

- Self Drive: 10 people allocated to a jeep, given the ferry times and a free pass to do what you like on the island

- Guided Tour: 30 – 40 people in a 4WD truck/bus thingy with a set itinerary and tour guide

Being wusses we went for the second option as it didn’t involve camping. Looking back I think we made the right choice as Fraser is a lot more remote and rugged than I ever expected. Before hiding from the bats, Matthew was telling us about the recent accidents (some fatal) and the number of self drive jeeps that come back to the hostel on a tow truck with missing gearboxes and clutches. A couple of days before we arrived, there was a particular feisty argument when one jeep came back totalled after a couple decided to have a little midnight drive after the rest of the group had set up camp for the night. The sleeping contingent were not happy to be held equally liable for the $5000 repair costs.

Anyhoo, the next morning we boarded the Fraser Explorer tour with our guide Karl at the helm. Karl, born in Germany, lived in Oz for the past 50 years, a shade taller than Danny De Vito, with a penchant for writing and reciting his own  poetry. He was full of info on the island, its history, wildlife, flora and fauna. The island is a lot larger than I was expecting (about 120km from north to south and up to 22km wide). That 22 km takes hours to drive though as the concept of roads hasn’t really made it as far as Fraser. Inland, the closest you get is soft sandy tracks that challenged even our $250,000 military issue four wheel drive. On the eastern coast the beach (75 Mile Beach) doubles as the highway. Even though I’ve been to the beach in Hawaii where they film lost, Fraser Island looks a lot more like the island you see on TV with tropical lush rainforest giving way to long sandy beaches. It even has its own ship wreck.

Our first stop was Lake Wabby, a fresh water lake perched high above sea level and sold to us as a short stroll from the beach. Short stroll was actually a 2.7km hike uphill through sand in 35 degrees. Still, it gave a nice sense of accomplishment by the time we finally reached the water and had a dip to cool down. As nice as Lake Wabby was it was totally eclipsed by Lake Mackenzie our last stop of the day. Mackenzie is a much much larger lake, made only from rainwater and surrounded by perfectly white soft sand. The water is crystal clear and warm as a bath tub, supposedly it even has special minerals that condition your skin and hair too.

Retreating that night to our ‘flashpacker’ motel style lodgings we were definitely glad we weren’t trying to find a camping spot away from the roving packs of dingoes that have been terrorising campers of late. I didn’t get to enjoy the accommodation for too long though as I got up at 4am to watch the sunrise over the pacific. Sunrise was amazing even if a persistent horse fly tried to ruin it for me.

On the second day we travelled along 75 mile beach, getting stuck in the wet sand at one point. Cue, everybody off the bus, digging the sand from behind the wheels of the truck. When we finally got going we headed to Indian Head. It was a bit of a scramble up the north face in flip flops but the view was amazing. After clambering down the rocks on the south side in a scene reminiscent of Harold Bishop being washed out to sea in Neighbours we set up for our picnic lunch. I was parched, being a complete idiot I had forgotten to bring any water with me that morning, all I could do was drink endless cartons of fruit juice.

Leaving Fraser that afternoon ending our trip with a nice sunset barge crossing we headed straight to Hervey Bay bus station to board the overnight bus to Airlie Beach. Airlie is the boarding point for the Whitsunday sailing trips, our next adventure.But i’ll save that for the next post.

Chat soon,

Jules

Loading image

Click anywhere to cancel

Another town another  blog post, this time its coming all the way from Noosa, Queensland. Noosa is the polar opposite of our last stop, Surfers Paradise. Gone are the high rise apartment blocks, flashing neon and restaurant chains and in its place are low rise, understated sophisticated riverside/seaside residences. Apparently the waterside properties change hands for upwards of $4 million dollars so there is plenty of cash washing around town.

Our hostel was also a change of pace, instead of the large student places we’ve stayed in recently, Chillout Noosa is really just a house with room for about 12 guests. Owned and operated by an Aussie as useless in the summer heat as me, Nick. Its a nicely decorated place but the four bed dorm was definitely verging on the small side. Especially when you add all our non backpacker sized luggage into the equation.

Still the relative quiet gave us a chance to catch up on our laundry and take part in my new favourite domestic game…. Extreme Clothes Hanging. All it takes is:

- 1 basket of freshly washed clothes
- 1 rotary clothes line
- 1 tree laden with ripe mangoes
- 1 flock of fruit bats (don’t let the word fruit fool you, still scary as hell)
- 4 squeamish irish girls

Nothing livens up the clothes hanging process like the prospect of being knocked out cold by a falling mango. If Gladiators included household chores I’d imagine this is the first game they’d include.

In between laundry runs myself and Emma hired some bikes to explore Noosa a little further. Away from the main beach there are some incredible views at Noosa Spit. Noosa itself is really spread out with three distinct areas (Noosa Heads, Noosa Junction and Noosaville) although given the mainly family crowd around these parts everything seems to shut up shop fairly early. Come 9pm its pretty much a ghost town. Definitely a world away from Surfers.

Yesterday we took a day trip to Australia Zoo made famous by its founder Steve Irwin. Poor ol’ Steve passed away over three years ago now from a Stingray barb to the heart. However his legacy lives on with the expansion of the zoo, spearheaded by his wife Terri and kids. I haven’t been to a Zoo in ages but unless Dublin zoo has improved dramatically in the past few years this one kicks its ass. In the space of a couple of hours I got to:

- Hand feed an elephant (their trunks are a lot slimier than they look!)
- Roam amongst a herd (?) of Kangaroos, petting and feeding the curious ones
- Hug a Koala bear (They really are just like teddy bears, teddy bears with Chlamydia but cute little fellas none the less)
- Watch a crocodile feeding session featuring the Irwin family. And they say 6 year olds can’t be trusted around animals!

So that was all the preplanned action for Noosa but little did we know the biggest excitement would come from trying to catch the bus out of the place. The first problem was trusting me alone with the bus times, never ever a good idea. When Nicola asked me at 9.25am what time our bus was at I couldn’t remember if it was 11.05am or 11.10am. Taking out the timetable to check I got that horrible sinking feeling that you only get when you have made an absolute balls of something or lose your wallet. I read and reread it and it definitely said our bus out of Noosa was at 9.35am, it was our second bus leaving from Matilda Roadhouse that left at 11.05am. That gave us 10 minutes to get to the bus stop, which was conveniently a 10 min drive away. Unconveniently I was still in my pyjamas, my crap unpacked all over the floor and we had no means of getting to the bus stop. Shit!

Just when all hope seemed lost our knight in shining armour, hostel owner, Nick appeared and said he’d bring us down in his jeep. In the next 30 seconds I literally flung my bits into the bag, still no idea what I’ve left behind and hopped in his jeep. In a horrible real life version of those nightmares where you are trying in vain to get to an airport for a flight you are missing, I found myself standing at the Noosa Transit Centre still in my pyjamas praying the bus was late. Something other than the sun was shining on us as it was indeed delayed. It had arrived but there was a swarm of backpackers around it and a guy that look like he should have been long retired was doing a poor job at getting people on the bus. In the end it seemed the bus had been overbooked and though we were safely aboard it took a full hour before we left. I was in no position to bemoan the delay though so just kept my mouth shut. The driver of our second bus, the infamous 11.05am was less than happy to have to delay his schedule waiting for us at the roadhouse, letting us know as much as we checked on our bags. Wasn’t our fault in the slightest though so not taking the criticism to heart.

Now we are in Hervey Bay, a town built on the back of tourism to nearby Fraser Island. We’ll be doing a two day/one night tour of Fraser starting tomorrow morning. Looking forward to it.

Another Day In Paradise…

Evening/Morning all (depending on where in the world you may be). Since the last blog entry our time at Byron came to an end and we continued our path up the coastal highway to our next stop, Surfers Paradise.

Surfers is our first stop in Queensland, meaning we lose an hour in the time difference but gain a couple of degrees in heat. It is gettin’ hawwwwwwwwwwwt in here! Only a couple of hours from Byron by bus, Surfers Paradise is a place you can see on the horizon long before you actually get here. Snaking our way through sleepy Gold Coast towns built for the Aussie retiree in search of some permanent sunshine and a place to play bowls (they seem to love bowls around here!), a high rise skyline across the bay came steadily into focus. Looking a lot more like Sydney than Coffs Harbour or Byron, Surfer’s is a big, brash holiday destination. It seems to have been unashamedly based on Florida with wide boulevards, high rise condos and the occasional subtle name drop like ‘Miami Keys’ and ‘Orlando Drive’.

Surfers Paradise from a Distance

It also has a Hard Rock cafe which we walked into, baulked at the menu prices and left again. I’m not sure this branch featured high on the list of dibs for memorabilia though. All I spotted on our brief time in their was a keyboard once used by a former member of the Grateful Dead and a sweater that was owned by Derek Whibly, frontman of Sum 41 probably better known as Avril Lavignes ex-husband. Not exactly legends of rock. I wonder what tat Hard Rock Cafe – Bognor Regis would come up with.

Our first impressions of our accommodation (Surfer’s Paradise Backpackers Resort) however were good, pickup from the bus station, help with our bags, speedy check in, nice two bed apartment with private bathroom, kitchen, living room…. Second impressions were …’shit, there’s no air con’. The place is an absolute sweat box. During the day there is some respite as the windows can be left open and the ceiling fan does its best to circulate some air. At night, unless we want to host our own nature programme its best to keep the windows shut resulting in a very, very hot apartment. I’m typing this lying on a bed I have dragged directly under a ceiling fan, while trying to avoid thinking about the gecko I spotted running around the bathroom.

The heat means we haven’t had the greatest nights of sleep. Myself and Emma decided the best way to cool down would be to spend a day at Wet n’ Wild, Australia’s biggest watermark. Nic and Danielle, looking like the stunt doubles from a ‘Weekend at Bernies’ decided to stay put and chill out at the beach. So at 9am this morning myself and Emma headed for the park. Luckily the express bus to Wet n’ Wild stops right outside our hostel, unluckily it was been driven by a slightly doddery grandma and was besieged by 30 kids and their parents. When we finally got to the park the queue to buy tickets was mahoosive! I probably would have cried at this point if we hadn’t prepaid for our tickets the day before and instead of queueing just waltzed right through. Given how slow things were moving at the turnstiles when we breezed through I’d imagine the end of the line is just about getting in now.

They say karma is a bitch and maybe it was coming back to bite me in the ass for being so smug about our queue skipping or possibly it was me joining in the pisstaking back in Sydney when we reminded Peter O’Donnell my primary school friend about the days when he had to wear an eyepatch. But christ whatever it was, something, most likely suncream got into my left eye somewhere between the lazy river and the wave pool and was determined to leave me incapacitated for the rest of the day. No amount of rinsing, blinking, tissuing, t-shirt rubbing would ease the stinging pain. My only moment of respite came on the Black Hole tube ride where in pitch darkness I felt fine. In the end I had to give in and slope off to the first aid centre mumbling something about cream in my eye. At an extreme water park you are expecting extreme injuries, like missing limbs or discombobulation or at least a broken bone. My suncream in eye story seemed pathetic. Anyhoo, even their eyewash and droplets couldn’t stem the pain especially not when the droplets are being administered by Emma and she decides to stab you in the eye with the serrated edge of the vial. Despite my injury I battled on valiantly reminding Emma of my predicament only at occasional (every 5 seconds) intervals and we got our money’s worth of adrenaline surging rides.

Once we got home we fashioned a makeshift eyepatch for me out of a double sided cotton wool pad and plasters (Emmas smart idea). It seems to have eased stinging so despite looking like a wannabe pirate I think I’ll keep it on for now (well, indoors at least).

I hope its thawing out for those of you back home, and cooling down for those of you in Melbourne who have (enjoyed/endured) the hottest night in 100 years, a breezy minimum temperature of 32 degrees.

Chat soon from Noosa,

Jules

Loading image

Click anywhere to cancel

G’day Sheilas,

I’m writing to you today from Byron Bay, the next stop of our Aussie adventure. But first I’ll fill in the blanks from our time at Coff’s Harbour. Coff’s is a small seaside town somewhat off the backpacker route where real Aussies go on holidays. That put us at a disadvantage straight away in the tanning stakes. These guys have had decades to perfect their golden glow. On the beach of our first morning the sun just seemed to magnify the brilliant whiteness of our skin. Our inability to last more than an hour in the sunshine before needing a break probably means we won’t be rivalling the Aussies anytime soon either. Trying a different approach myself and Emma hired some bikes to explore the area. The highlight of our explorations was locating a nearby KFC where we sourced our lunch before hopping on the Greyhound to Byron.

It was a relatively short jump on the bus from Coff’s Harbour but an interesting jaunt none the less. The four hour trip gave us enough time to spot our first Kangaroo and also the lesser spotted “Big Prawn”. One of Queensland’s kitschy 39 “Big Things”. This particular prawn lives atop a lowly service station in the town of Ballina. Not to be confused with the Irish town of the same name, they pronounce it more like ‘Berliner’.

Our bus pulled into Byron Bay at about 9.55pm but going by the state of people on the street it could easily have been kicking out time. It is definitely livelier than Coffs. We were (mis)informed that the hostel was just a short stroll from the bus stop so we decided to walk it with our bags. When we eventually reached the hostel, bathed in sweat we definitely felt like the sober people that joined a party about 4 hours too late. The hostel manager assurances that the hostel was open 24 hours a day wasn’t exactly what we wanted to here at that point either.

This hostel is definitely a little more ‘rustic’ in terms of facilities which Emma is less than pleased about. On the plus side though it is right on the beach, well you have to cross an abandoned railway track first which makes me break out into spontaneous renditions of Stand By Me each time. For anyone scratching their head, that’s a movie reference not a sign of madness. Now that we had definitely arrived on the backpacker trail we found the local travel agents, Peter Pan and booked all our trips/tours from here until Melbourne. So far the list includes:

Day trip to Nimbin a hippie town just west of Byron
Day trip to Warner Brother’s Movie World at Surfers Paradise
Two Day guided tour of Fraser Island, an island made entirely of sand.
Two Day – Two Night boat trip around the Whitsunday Islands

SKYDIVE at Mission Beach!!!!   (<——— Danielle and Myself are the only two brave enough for this one!)

Day trip snorkelling out to the Great Barrier Reef
Day trip through the rainforest in Daintree (north of Cairns)

On our first night here we decided to sample the entertainment on offer at the Beach Hotel. Round Mountain Girls a hillbilly/celtic band took to the stage. The front man bore an uncanny resemblance to James May while the fiddle player looked like someone who had awoken to find a dead cat perched on his head in the style of a mullet. Their take on some classics such as Wonderwall, was, eh…… unique. They definitely worked the crowed into a frenzy in what can probably be best described as a Celtic Rave.

Yesterday we did the first of our tours, this one was to Nimbin. Back in 1973 a group of travelling hippies happened upon Nimbin, liked what they saw and held a festival. The Age of Aquarius began and most have yet to go home. The town is full of people whose eyes haven’t both looked the same direction for many a year, one too many magic mushrooms me thinks. In almost a parody of itself there was a group of crusty old women siting in a semi circle strumming acoustic guitars singing along to a Joni Mitchell song as we got off the bus. The best part of the trip though was probably the stop off at a secret waterfall. The main draw was the 30ft jump off the overhanging cliff into the waterfall lagoon below. I decided that if I was prepared to jump 14,000ft in a weeks time, 30ft shouldn’t be too challenging. So after grilling the guide as to whether there was anything I could potentially do to arse it up, I (somewhat nervously) took the plunge. It was great! The fact it was in the middle of the rainforest and bucketing it down at the time only added to the experience.

Anyhoo, that brings us pretty much up to date. Nothing much planned for today other than hitting the beach and faffing about with some bodyboards trying to look like I know what I’m doing. Tomorrow morning we leave for Surfer’s Paradise where Emma is delighted we will have private bathrooms and the rest of us our pretty pleased with the prospect of proper air conditioning. Although I guess longing for a little coolness is lost on those of you battling the sub-zero temps at home. Whatever you do don’t be this guy.

Chat soon,

Jules

I can’t quite believe it has been over a week already since we left Ireland. It’s seems like a long time ago that we were sitting in departures at Dublin airport but the time has flown by all the same. Since the last blog entry we have spent a couple of more days in Sydney and travelled overnight by Greyhound bus to Coffs Harbour.

We were creatures of habit in Sydney. On the first day we found a cafe directly across from the hotel and in the space of four days exhausted everything on their breakfast menu. Sitting at our usual table outside we would make our daily weather assessment. Our meteorological skills were suspect to say the least. We tended to err on the side of optimism that the sun would burn through the completely overcast sky. Unfortunately we were usually just rewarded with some drizzle.

To get our bearings (and because the only one with any Sydney knowledge (Danielle) was in bed hungover from New Years) we took the open top sightseeing bus. Even with the overcast sky and SPF 30+ both myself and Emma managed to get a little base burn on. It doesn’t bode well for the 40 degree weather waiting for us in Cairns.

Having done the city sights we decided to rent a car on Sunday to venture a little further out of the centre. The first stop was the (in)famous Bondi Beach. Reaching the beachfront promenade by winding your way down a hilly residential area it really does resemble Salthill in Galway, unfortunately for us the weather that morning resembled a crappy day at Salthill too. We had been particularly optimistic that day putting full faith in weather.com prediction of a 0% chance of rain. They were wrong. It pissed rain and was cold (not Dublin -9 cold, but cold when you are in beachwear none the less).

Cutting our losses there, we headed north, first stopping at Manly, where we bought the traditional seaside items of a golf umbrella and hoodies. The umbrella lasted about 17 minutes before being caught by a gust of wind and nearly bringng Emma out to sea Mary Poppins style.

A slightly un-summery day at Summer Bay

The next stop was one that I had been waiting to do for about 20 years (no pressure there then). Palm Beach aka Summer Bay, the real life location of Home and Away. For some of you it may just be a fairly ropey Aussie soap, for me its actually a part of my childhood. From Alf the central patriarch, to Sally the child that has literally grown up on the show (like an Oz version of the Truman Show) to Irene everyones favourite recovering alcoholic foster mother. Who could forget such seminal moments as Shane succumbing to septicaemia, Selena being taken in by a cult, Ailsa (no idea if thats the right spelling but Alf’s wife) dying of a heart attack. Anyhoo, point made, I like Home and Away.

Winding our way along the coastal roads that lead to Barrenjoey Head the anticipation is palpable. The weather is still rubbish but I know that for such an important moment as this the clouds will part any moment to signal our arrival. It isn’t to be. We get to Palm Beach, I immediately recognise the Surf Club and the iconic walkway down to the beach. Unfortunately the weather has taken a turn for the worse and the scene is now reminiscent of the storm that levelled the Caravan Park. Undeterred we get out and pose for photos, walk along the beach, even go as far as dip our toes in the icy water. The beach looks just like I had hoped even if the weather doesn’t. We still have Ramsay St. to visit when we hit Melbourne but this was the big one for me.

Yesterday we had some time to kill before catching the bus to Coffs Harbour. Thankfully the weather had improved a lot so we decided to give Manly another try, arriving this time by Ferry. It would have been worth it for the ferry ride alone, the views of the harbour are breathtaking. Picture perfect postcard views of the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. With the sun now shining, Manly was transformed. No more shopping for umbrellas and hoodies! What a difference a day makes, the beach was now crowded, the ferry terminal thronged with passengers and the waters were filled with swimmers, surfers and body boarders.  In this weather its really easy to see why so many Irish call Sydney home.

Last night we caught the overnight bus to Coffs. It seems the mass exodus from Sydney is in full swing now that new year’s celebrations have died down. Three bus loads of backpackers were waiting at the coach terminal and from the confusion of the bus drivers you would swear it was the first long distance bus trip Greyhound had ever run. About an hour later than planned we finally got going and said goodbye to Sydney. I’ll be sorry to see it go as it is a really great city. Iconic landmarks, compact downtown, beautiful beaches, great transport links, etc.. It will be a tough city to top!

Now one dodgy service station toilet stop later we are safely tucked up in the YHA (Youth Hostel Australia) in Coffs Harbour. Its noticeably warmer up here and we are all trying to avoid getting burnt before we move on to Byron Bay tomorrow evening.

Chat soon from Byron,

Jules

We have made it to the land down under, approximately 3 million years after leaving Dublin. With aches, creaks and pains in joints we never knew existed from 3 flights of economy class plane sleep we emerged from Kingsford International Airport shadows of our former selves.

After finding the hotel, checking in, having a quick nap (well was supposed to be a 2 hour powernap, I managed to sleep completely through the alarm to make it a bumper 5 hour snooze), we went in search of a good Aussie pub to soak up a little culture.

In the spirit of a fine alcoholic beverage advertisement, “Think Australian, Drink Australian”, however as Fosters is seen as a national joke over here, we’ve adopted Tooheys as our brew of choice. They won me over with their company motto. “It’s not a moose you goose, it’s a stag”.

The Aussies have mastered the art of drinking ice cold beer by deftly shrinking all the portion sizes. You can either have a Pot or a Schooner both of which are a bit smaller than a half pint/pint, respectively. All the new lingo has Emma (and her bartenders) confused, especially when she asks them for a “Spooner of Tooleys”.

Yesterday, New Years Eve, was our first full day in Sydney, after last year’s damp squib of a New Years in Dublin’s Howl at the Moon, this year’s didn’t have much to live up to… but given that we’d flown 10709 miles to experience the Aussie new year we thought we probably should make the most of it.

It turns out New Years is a big big deal here. 1.5 million people were expected to stake out a spot to take in the fireworks display in Sydney Harbour come midnight. Thanks to some insider info from Danielle and Nic’s friend Martin, we picked our preferred vantage point, Observatory Hill, on the south west side of the Harbour Bridge. First things first though we headed to Woolworths to stock up on supplies for a day long picnic leading up to the New Year’s Countdown. When we got to our spot at about 2pm the place was already packed with majority of prime spots gone. There were tales of people camping overnight to get the premium views while others were paying over $500 each to get a place on a boat in the harbour.

On Observatory Hill, like pretty much everywhere else in Sydney it was wall to wall Irish accents. Literally (and I do mean literally), the Irish seem to outnumber all non Australian nationalities combined in this city. We better have sent Australia a nice christmas present this year as Oz must single handedly be cutting the dole queues in Dublin in half.

Given the numbers of Irish about, I probably shouldn’t have been too surprised to bump into some familiar faces. Having said that, I really wasn’t expecting to see Peter O’Donnell and Greg Doherty, two guys from my primary school class sitting 10 feet away from our picnic pitch though. In the 12 years since leaving primary school, I hadn’t seen these guys despite living in the same town as them, head to the other side of the world and I meet them within 24 hours! It turns out they are living in Sydney for the past year with about a dozen other people from my home town of Leixlip. Small world and all that jazz!

Once night fell we were treated to a taster of things to come, with the 9pm firework show, aimed at families and those that couldn’t be bothered staying up till midnight. Although it was only the appetiser it was easily one of the best fireworks displays I’ve seen. Floating rigs of fireworks are dotted all along the harbour lighting up the entire sky as far as you can see in pretty much any direction. This is not a £12.99 kit from Tesco consisting of a Black Cat with a dodgy fuse.

Skip forward a little shy of three hours and we all stood in place counting down the final seconds of 2009, with camera and camcorder in hand to capture the moment Sydney Harbour Bridge is lit to signal the start of the new year. The fireworks are just awesome, the video below just doesn’t do justice to what the sound and light is like in real life. The cheers from the crowd were deafening although you could just about make out a slightly mumbled version of Auld Lang Syne until the Irish plumped for the less lyrically challenging yet equally rousing Ole Ole.

I can’t think of a better way to start a new year and a new decade (I don’t agree with the whole 2011 is actually the beginning of the next decade chat). Although quote of the night has to go to Emma who came out with the classic. “I’m not actually all that into fireworks”

Here’s to 2010, hopefully the first month of the year will live up last night.

Hope you all had a great new year’s too.

Chat soon,

Jules

It’s been 22 hours since I left my house and I’ve only made it as far as an O’Briens sandwich bar. The O’Briens just happens to be in Terminal C of Kuala Lumpur airport.

So far we have done two of our three flights to Sydney. Thankfully, Emma informs I slept for 9/12ths (to be exact) of the last flight, our 12 hour monster from Heathrow to Kuala Lumpur. It was my first time on a jumbo jet which is not quite as luxurious as I had imagined, all it was missing was Samuel L. Jackson and we could have re-enacted Snakes on a Plane.

Now we are sitting in what must be the world’s hottest, stuffiest airport nursing room temperature drinks while waiting for the next 8 hour leg to Sydney.

Next post will be from the land down under!

Chat soon,

Jules

It’s the 26th of December and I’m stuffed to the gills on Roses (the nice ones, read: anything bar the Orange, Strawberry or Brazillian ones) and a now demolished sandwich of left over ham, turkey and stuffing. It’s still freezing outside but in here its a couple of degrees above your average gym sauna. Christmas TV has been its predictable fayre of the always rubbish and once great shows that have returned long after their sell by date (Royle Family I’m looking at you!). From here its hard to imagine that all going well and White Christmas travel problems permitting we will be in Australia in 4 days time, counting down the minutes until the fireworks explode over Sydney Harbour.

With all the pre Christmas excitement I’ve been a little lacking in prep for the trip. Right now I only have $20 (thanks Nancy!) to my name, no swimwear and a slightly comedicly oversized bag given my notorious light packing ways. Thanks to Danielle at least we have an outline of an itinerary which goes as follows:

• Sydney
• Palm Beach (Hometown of Home and Away)
• Coffs Harbour
• Byron Bay
• Surfers Paradise
• Noosa
• Brisbane
• Hervey Bay
• Airlie Beach
• Mission Beach
• Cairns
• Melbourne

So, that’s the plan but if you want to catch up on where exactly we are, come back here where I’ll be posting notes, pictures and videos from the road.

Talk soon,

Jules