My Stage is the World

Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive

I Wanna be a Paperback Writer

The stage is set for Let it BeI’m not the biggest fan of jukebox musicals, in fact I despised both Thriller and We Will Rock You. Mamma Mia is good fun, although (sacrilege) I prefer the film and the less said about Rock of Ages the better!

So I’ll admit I wasn’t particularly sure that I wanted to see Let it Be. I’d heard mixed reviews and it seemed that it was, essentially, a Beatles tribute band. Now I’ve been to the Cavern Club in Liverpool and seen ‘The Beatles’ play and they were pretty awesome, but surely Let it Be would just be the same.

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A Dirty Rotten Evening

Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is one of the best musicals I’ve seen this year (I’ve seen a lot. I’ve even seen Once twice), so when I was invited to a media night by Laughing Buddha, I quite literally jumped at the chance!
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The Curious Gincident of the Blog in the Night-Time

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Now I’m not passionate about many things – I’ve even been described as dead inside on several occasions.

However I think I can safely say that the theatre is very close to my heart, as is writing. I’m also a pretty big fan of gin… And wine.

So, being invited to an event that involved theatre bloggers, gin tasting, cheese and wine seemed like a pretty perfect evening out.

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Men are from Mars; Women are from Venus

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Now I’ve never described myself as a feminist (although maybe I am) and have nothing against men… BUT I’ve just read a post on elitedaily.com that seems to blame women for the lack of successful relationships. Us girls don’t want the nice guys because they’re boring; we want the bad boys who keep it interesting.

Bollocks.
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I’m Yelling Tinder… We’re Swiping Left, Left…

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Ah the joys of online dating. I’ve probably had more experience than most, with several long-term relationships forged from the delightful match.com. But of course neither was meant to be, although obviously it was them and not me, because I’m clearly awesome.

So the idea of a site that was – effectively – for shallow people, seemed a dubious concept. I mean we’re told our whole lives that we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and beauty comes from within (bollocks), only for an app to appear which basically tells us to select a date based on looks alone. Genius.

So I thought I’d give it a go and here’s what I learned:
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Journey’s End

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Brace yourself

After spending my last day walking around the Botanic Gardens and Chinatown – Lau Pasat is closed for renovations – I spent the evening by the bay with one of my sister’s friends who works in the city. My cocktail was about 50% marshmallow and we shared a mix of breakfast nachos (they had scrambled egg), Parmesan fries and strawberry pancakes. We also took a super fast elevator to her office’s roof garden for spectacular views of the city. A good end to my adventures.

Of course, being me there was more drama to unfold…

Braving the MRT to the airport I was heavily questioned at customs because the last letter of my first name hadn’t quite fitted so they wanted to make sure I was who I said I was.

Finally on the plane, I started watching a film while we sat on the ground for an hour. Slightly worried about my connecting flight I persevered with ‘Broken’. It’s a good, if slightly odd, film, but the ending is pretty graphic. I started to feel sick and dizzy and needed some fresh air… Obviously this wasn’t likely on a plane.

Guess who got to experience an oxygen mask on a plane? Yup, little miss squeamish who faints.

So I spent the first hour of the flight (when the seatbelt sign was still on) laying on the floor of the aircraft with my feet on a box, with an oxygen mask over my face. Just another thing to take in my stride…

However, for the rest of the flight I was treated like a minor celebrity – the stewards brought me extra drinks and biscuits and the first officer came over several times to check I was OK.

After that I played it safe and watched Hercules and To Kill A Mockingbird.

Running out of time

By the time we landed in Dubai, my connecting flight was already boarding and it took ages to disembark. When the couple in front of me decided to have a full-on PDA in the plane aisle I almost stabbed them with my pen.

I ran off the plane, skirting the lady in a wheelchair and skidded to a halt in front of the man shouting “Gatwick? Istanbul?”, ranting at a fellow traveller – a maths PhD student at Oxford.

He and I chatted as about six of us were escorted through the airport to a special security point (one poor girl was then searched, even though there had been no time for us to change our bags’ contents since checks in Brisbane/Singapore).

Not only did we make it, but they held the plane to check our luggage had all been found. So this flight was also delayed… But on the plus side I was sitting just behind First Class and had a spare seat next to me.

The rest of the flight passed fairly smoothly (Pete’s Dragon, Shakespeare in Love etc.) and all too soon we were landing in Gatwick Airport, where both of my parents were waiting.

My dad dashed off to catch a train to London so my mum and I braved the rainy, flooded roads of England.

Remind me why I came back again?

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Total tourist

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Walking in sunshine

With a limited time in Singapore I was determined to make the most of it. To me, this means walking everywhere and finding all manner of things lurking around each corner.

After checking in to my hotel (after tents and hostels, it was the most beautiful room I’d ever seen) and having a shower I headed out into the city. I wandered aimlessly for about four hours and stumbled across a free gig in the Arts Centre. Linden Furnell was a pretty talented Aussie guy who’d studied in Singapore. His songs were pretty deep, with powerful lyrics that made me reflect. Damn him.

I got lost on the way back by following the map – what a stupid idea. I then had what was effectively a chilli crab pot noodle, which I ate with chopsticks in my pyjamas.

The following day I had an agenda – find chilli stingray and go to the night safari. Simple. Google Maps suggested 800m to Little India, but I went the scenic (aka long) way to the travel agent. A very helpful man told me I could just catch the bus to the safari and buy my tickets there. He also told me not to go to Malaysia on my own because I “have the blonde hair and the pretty face. It is not safe. Find some friends.” He even said his son would go with me at the weekend, but I had to decline.

Little India was bizarre. It was colourful and busy, but smelled of cheap mint/bubblegum chewing gum. I somehow found myself upstairs in a salon having my eyebrows threaded after asking the price – a fairly reasonable $4. My eyes watered a lot, even though it wasn’t particularly painful.

I then walked to Chinatown to find Lau Pasat, but I gave up and stumbled into a Buddhist temple. Full of Buddhas I was presented with a spiritual book, which happened to fall open at a page about promiscuity – hmmm.

After perusing hundreds of food stalls, I finally settled for a $3 bowl of Laksa. It was a sixty-year-old recipe he’d learned from a master and he made each bowl separately with all natural ingredients.

His technique worked – the laksa tasted of the ocean and was delicious. The stall owner explained that cooking was his passion and he had started the stall when he retired from the stage. He and his friends – who I met – still got together on Thursdays and performed in Retirement Homes. He was also a very positive about England and its people, which was very refreshing.

Where the wild things are

Stepping off the shuttle bus to the Singapore Night Safari, S and I started our nighttime adventure with the walking tours, setting off down a dark path, through barely visible jungle into the unknown. All sorts of creatures lurked in the bushes and I was quite jumpy at times, especially when rats crept past, frogs jumped and lizards crawled.

The idea is that nocturnal animals are more energetic at nighttime and it was interesting to see their behaviour in the dark. At one point we were surrounded by wallabies, another time by fruit bats. There was also a dark cave that dripped water with nasty reptiles sleeping behind (thank God) glass cases.

On the walks we also saw civets, tigers, rhinos and deer… Plus sloth bears, invisible night squirrels and night pelicans (I still think the zoo man made this up as they looked more like pterodactyls). There was no crocodile though. We asked and were told “No, no crocodile.” When we later found an ’empty’ river marked Crocodile we figured his story checked out, but we didn’t hang around for too long!

Our first tram ride was a hilarious experience. We got on halfway round and our guide was quite bloodthirsty, explaining that “hyenas can run non-stop for 3km. They are also strong swimmers, so they will bite you until you fall down and die.” “Lions tend to ignore humans, but they will still rip you limb from limb if provoked.” Every animal then became a danger to humans, as we made up ways they could kill us… Including being sat on by a hippo until we die.

Just in time for the last animal show, we watched otters and raccoons recycle rubbish and an escaped Python dominate the stage and a poor Korean tourist’s neck.

Back on the almost empty tram, our new guide was far more positive and we had a much better view of the elephants and lions. The hippos had been asleep the first time, so as we rounded a corner I saw them, exclaiming “Yay hippos!” Which turned out to be buffalo… Hopefully I redeemed myself by remembering a male elephant was called a Chawang… We also saw a giraffe sitting down – which led us to ponder how giraffes sleep.

Returning to the city just before midnight, we finally found somewhere for dinner – a Thai restaurant open until 5.30am. The food was good, although there was no wine and they appeared to be playing Westlife’s Greatest Hits – quite bizarre.

In fact, the whole evening turned out to be “surreal, but nice”.

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The end of the affair

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It’s a small world

The drive back to Melbourne presented no problems (shocking I know) and there were no charges waiting for us when we dropped the keys off. Taxi back to the hostel and we took a tram to St Kilda’s to explore the beach.

Obviously we were both starving, so we popped into a nice looking cafe for a spot of brunch. And, of course, it was the cafe where Hannah (who I met in the Blue Mountains) worked. It amazes me how small the world really is.

After gorging ourselves – and enjoying a free coffee – we set off with Hannah for some cider in Abbey Road. St Kilda’s is very like Camden, so it seemed appropriate that we were in a London themed bar!

Onto the beach – past some hippies dressed in fluorescent tutus, dancing to huge ghetto blasters – and into another bar to meet up with other vagrants from Sydney.

Back to the hostel to beautify ourselves and we headed out – German roommate in tow – first to the hostel bar (hello jugs of sangria) and then to another appropriately named bar: The Berlin Bar.

After entering a door marked ‘No Dickheads’ and going up some steps, guests have to push a little green button and wait to be admitted. We were then ushered past the sophisticated white stools of West Berlin into East Berlin, where there are boxes and bunk beds! The prices were definitely more west though…

After a quick Pie Face (for all three of us) it was back to the hostel to watch our Italian roommate’s brush with death (aka crocodiles) before a relatively early night.

The next morning we visited Victoria Market, which sells all kinds of crap, as well as organic food. We then indulged in homemade muffins and delicious coffee before spending the rest of the morning riding the (free) tram which goes around the city,

Luggage collected, it was a sad farewell that Miss H and I bid as I headed back to Sydney. It had been an epic few weeks, but now I was leaving Australia for the delights of Asia.

By the time the shuttle bus had deigned to appear, dropped me off (last, again) and the receptionist had managed to find me a room – after I traipsed up the stairs, bags in tow, and was told in no uncertain terms to leave: “Sorry babe, this room’s full”, all I had time for was a pot noodle, a shower and a film (The Magdalen Sisters) before attempting to sleep.

Sadly, my fellow hostellers were having their traditional Sunday night rave, so when I got up at 6.30am I’d barely slept a wink and had a flight to catch!

After two minutes in Sydney airport I was being made over by a Benefit lady, so I bought some eyeshadow. I then saw that my flight was delayed by three hours, meaning that my Singapore trip was cut by half a day. I stormed off to get a coffee and then realised that it wasn’t my flight that was delayed, so had to run to my gate. It wasn’t until I was on the plane that I noticed that I’d left the make-up in the airport.

Ah well – It would be far too hot for make-up in Singapore!

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Final destination

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The Lonely Island

We’d technically completed the Great Ocean Road but we had one more stop before we headed back to Melbourne – Port Fairy. This ‘sleepy little fishing village’ is pretty quaint, with old style buildings present throughout the town and a cute little harbour.

We walked through the harbour and across the causeway to Griffiths Island and walked around towards the island, hoping to see some Kangaroos. But, yet again they didn’t want to show themselves, despite there being plenty of them around. The island had beautiful white sand, but it was ridiculously hot so we didn’t hang around.

Our original plan was to go to Hanging Rock (and have a picnic) as it wasn’t too far north of Melbourne. It was however a five hour drive and we’d have been cutting it quite fine to get there in time to see it and find a campsite. So we changed our plan and drove inland towards Melbourne for about 3 hours, stopping instead for a picnic at Red Rock.

As the name suggests this area (a 10km detour from the highway) has an unusual red rock and is surrounded by pools left by volcanic eruptions. This being the hottest day I’d had in Australia, it didn’t surprise me that there wasn’t actually any water at all. Each pool was a dried up hole, yet together they were eerily beautiful.

Driving further up we posed for a quick self-timed picture in our new T-Shirts although we took them off afterwards as it was too hot for anything but shorts and a cami. My feet were boiling in my Converse but they were the best shoes for driving so I swapped to flip-flops every time we got out of the car.

Running out of time

After that there was nothing for it but to head on to Colac singing our little hearts out and decide where to spend our last night. We settled for Geelong as it was only an hour or so past Colac and less than 100km from Melbourne. We were also told by the woman in the visitor centre that it had a pretty waterfront and lots of restaurants and bars. She rang up a campsite for us and booked us in. What could possibly go wrong?

As we’d been told to “return the car empty” I was reluctant to give it back with much petrol, but after filling up initially had put another $15 in that morning. We had half a tank and less than 200km to drive. No problem.

Averaging 90-100kmh on the highway by itself wouldn’t have been a problem, but having a lot of luggage and a tent on the roof affects the fuel economy. Suddenly, the petrol gauge flashed to empty and the promise of ‘169km of driving’ switched to ‘—‘.

“Find me a petrol station” I shouted! According to the SatNav our nearest one was 17km away and we were on a single lane highway where the speed limit was 100. We turned everything off and I slowed down to 80, ignoring the cars overtaking me and the drivers beeping at me. 10km to go… 5km. I was cool but slightly tense… If I had to stop the car, would it start again?

With 2km to go we entered roadworks and thankfully the traffic slowed to 40kmh. As the metres ticked down we saw several demolished buildings at the side of the road – had that been the petrol station? My heart sank, but luckily as we rounded the bend we saw it! “Turn left!” screamed Miss H, but I was already there.

“Need petrol darlin’?” asked the helpful truck driver. “Just a bit” I replied through gritted teeth, as I whacked in $20 just to be on the safe side.

Stupid SatNav

After that I’d had enough of driving and just wanted to get to the campsite and have a drink! But of course, that would’ve been too simple. It turns out that our campsite was 10km away from Geelong, near the ring road. So we couldn’t really walk down to the waterfront… Which was what we’d really wanted to do.

Not that we could find the campsite anyway. We drove along Ballarat Road and it just wasn’t there. After a few turns the SatNav lady tried to lead me through a row of houses and over a fence. We were big getting a little bit stressed and hungry now so used Google Maps instead.

Surprisingly, that was better and we got to the campsite in one piece, despite the car stalling several times on the way. We parked and went straight to the pool to cool off.

With no food (or patience) left we ordered takeaway pizza, although unfortunately they didn’t deliver alcohol, so we made do with Solo instead. Our last night in the tent was sleepless thanks to the lorries on the highway and some weird clicking bugs.

Happy campers!

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Stalkers, songs and shipwrecks

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Just our luck

After a proper breakfast of egg sandwiches, we made lunch and set off (with only a little bit of help packing away our tent).

The morning was devoted to scenery – spectacular rock formations including the Arch and London Bridge… Which has fallen down and is no longer a walkway, but an island. When the adjoining pat of Rock fell in the 90s two tourists were left stranded and had to be rescued by helicopter. I couldn’t help feeling that was the sort of thing that would happen to me and Miss H. How long would our luck hold out?

Passing by the shipwreck coast that had destroyed perhaps more than 600 ships, we saw the Bay of Islands , including the Bay of Martyrs which had a beautiful beach, but was covered in sand flies.

After that we drove all the way to Warrnambool, singing along to summery songs and just enjoying the view, which continued to be amazing, even after we headed inland (more 25kmh bends for me).

Our next campsite was a hostel that had grass available for tents, plus free tea and coffee and a bar – hurrah! I’d barely touched coffee since being in Australia, but I managed a few sips before giving up and ordering a large glass of Sauvignon Blanc which was a steal at $3.50.

By lantern light

After dinner we grabbed a jumper and headed into town for Shipwrecked! – a laser show in the historic Flagstaff Hill maritime village. On the way we had another ice-cream (Champagnums yay) and posed on the cannons. Two lads got out of their car and offered to take a photo of both of us. Too kind… As they then proceeded to chat us up (badly) and invite us to the pub. They were quite inquisitive, but we thought nothing of it, said our goodbyes and headed off to the visitor centre for our nighttime tour of this historic village.

Lantern in hand we followed our guide through the dark, deserted village past the nineteenth century church and shops and shivering with anticipation. The history of British emigrants was a tragic one and by the time we got to the theatre we were quite excited.

The show was a series of photographs and interviews projected onto the water, told from the perspective of the captain, a passenger and a seaman. Those on board had to endure the heat of the Tropics, the icy blast of from the Antarctic, plus seasickness and bad food. It was a perilous journey through the ‘eye of the needle’ to land safely in Victoria.

Sadly this voyage was unsuccessful and only two survived – the seaman and one passenger. They were swept to sea and caught the current through the eye. Thomas found Ethel and rescued her, before climbing the cliff with his bare hands and getting help. Everyone else perished, except for a giant statue of a peacock…

Slightly wet from the spray of the ‘sea’ that attacked out boat we continued on foot with our lanterns, past the pigs and back to the shop (where we bought a Great Ocean Road T-shirt).

As we walked back to our campsite, a voice called out “How was the laser show?” Yup, it was the two boys, waiting for us outside the shop where we’d bought our ice-creams. Creepy!

Declining their kind offer to go to Breakwater, we carried on with their car following us briefly before giving up. Several other cars made comments, but we ignored them and went to bed.

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