On the road

I’m  heading off to Malaysia to have a week’s holiday with the family, indulging in holiday-ception as I leave Adelaide and crew for a bit of warmth… it seems ironic that I’d leave Australia for warmth but as I’ve discovered,  winter here, isn’t just a casual term that refers to dropping a degree on your AC remote but it actually becomes jumper and woolies weather (but I rest assured with the phrase that I’ve heard about 3 times a day ‘you’ll be alright’ ;) ). Luckily J and I have a cute pair of matching knitted bed socks that his great Greek grandma, or ‘grandma yia yia’ made us, two of the many pairs she’s knitted as she sits back, in all black and observes the world she’s lived in for so long. She sits, content and unreactive to the shrill shrieks of her great grandchildren, the chatter of her grandchildren and the discussions of her own children. The energy of big Greek families is most easily explicable through the movie ‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding’ – the food, the aunties, the sense of community/support, the social dynamic (women sitting on a row of chairs inside chatting or cooking meals while the men cook meat on the bbq or discuss cars…) 

Family dinners

Melbourne

I think the importance of tradition within the Greek community in Australia is exaggerated due to their minority status and similar backstory’s of cultural shifts, strong work ethics and hardship. It’s so lovely being welcomed into it, I feel slightly like a princess goose at a foie gras farm, I’m treated with such care and love while being constantly stuffed to the brim with food. The scales in our bathroom have begun their daily glare as I walk past them quickening my pace and thinking about how it’s gonna take more than a speed-walk to the next room to start the toning…

Food in Australia has been great from the first day I arrived. I had a hunch that gluten-free, vegetarian food while travelling in the west would be tough, but the world’s becoming so health conscious now, every other café you walk past has a ‘gluten free, vegan’ sign, even dominoes does gluten free now. Byron bay was the best for all of that – hippie, healthy, heaven. Yoga every day, beautiful sunshine, long white stretches of sand, sexy surfers, organic orgies and a great crew. It was the most northern point on the road trip that we managed to reach, totalling over 2000Km of driving (between Z and J) from Adelaide and back, In Z’s good ol’ wagon that managed to not break down until our return. We’d planned to go up to the gold coast for a few theme parks etc. but as funds were running low and we didn’t need anywhere else to go, Byron was nothing to dispute. It has become somewhat of a commercialised hippie town, emphasized by the daily ‘happy bus’ that went to Nimbin (weed-capital) and back, but we were lucky enough to have the option of a house to retreat to when our cash began to liquefy so the ‘commercial’ aspect didn’t hook us in too much. Between 7 of us we managed to pay a bit more than a hostel would cost, to rent holiday houses for a few nights at a time along the East Coast of the huge country. Our first house in Byron had a separate studio hidden amongst the tropical vines and flowers in the garden that J and I had the pleasure of spending a few nights in. We’d wake up in a white double bed with the sun streaming in the wooden-framed doors, catching the face of the decorative giant Buddha that stood against the back wall. I’d put on my flowy dresses and let my hair down to lounge around on the day beds with a few flower fumes twirling nearby, fully embracing my inner goddess in our luxury pad that, as everything else, was impermanent. 

Our Byron studio

Funny Aussie birds

Our lease there indeed ended, so we moved a few streets over into a house akin to a quirky antique shop… rocking horses hung from the ceilings, an array of chandeliers dangled over the wooden dining table outside and a quaint set of chairs and a table sat outside in the garden, to be enjoyed with morning coffees.

Melbourne house

The appreciation for our houses developed with each stay. After the 24 hour journey to Adelaide from London, arriving at around 8pm we made the first 9 hour car journey to Melbourne at 6am the next morning. Deliriously peering out of the win

Our garden :)

dow at the expansive roads and land that stretched for miles all around us. From arid red to lush greed ground we travelled passed giant pre-historic rocks, through small-unknown country towns, rows of evergreens contrasting the stark naked trees beside them. We stopped off at skate parks or servo’s to stretch our legs, release our bladders and fill our tummy’s. After a few mishaps of driving to the wrong destination, we arrived at our very first house in Richmond, Melbourne, where half of the Adelaide crew T, M, N and S were waiting… That house became our nocturnal nucleus where all the central processes took place but light rarely reached. We spent our first night checking out the Melbourne clubbing scene at Billboards where ‘bounce’, an Aussie genre of music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z4uJ6AVmZhQ) that seems to attract lots of cooked, hench guys in tank tops…  and then moved on to New gurnica – a great house club (slightly more my scene) in which we spent most of our time in ‘the kitchen’ where the DJ booth was on the counter and the rest of the fixtures, fittings and kitchenware were behind him… It was cool watching everyone do ‘the juicy wiggle’ – a dance move specific to Melbourne (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucAaXjgJ1ss), while Adelaide has the swipe dance and Sydney has the gabba.  So we spent our nights watching people wiggle and our days sleeping in, Australian football or the news constantly blaring from our TV and the recycled herbal fumes lingering in the air.

Melbourne!

J, J and I

I got to see my first possum, giant squirrel like things that when grouped together in trees at night, sound like hundreds of shrieking fishwives as they fight amongst each other. My old friend H from high school took me on a little tour down Brunswick street to check out the vintage shops, have conversations about loving the environment and animals with green peace advocates (*while wearing a fur coat) and sip on drinks in cute cafes (all with equally amazing coffee). It wasn’t until our second trip back through Melbourne where our great travelling companion J was living that I discovered my favourite part ‘St. Kilda’ that is very alike Bristol in England with it’s more independent, arty, hipster scene.

H and I :)

Sydney Harbour bridge

The Opera house

After Melbourne we hit up Sydney, taking up a whole room of a tiny and expensive hostel (with the bad ju ju) in Newton. On our first day we checked out Sydney Harbour Bridge and the world famous Opera house that was very architecturally interesting yet supposedly has some of the worst acoustics of all venues? The skies were blue, an aboriginal and his son were performing with a dance and a didgeridoo that resonated in the pavement with such earthiness and got us all dancing. Didgeridoos are traditionally crafted out of eucalyptus tree trunks that have been hollowed out by termites, with a beeswax mouthpiece. They’re traditionally meant to only be played by men, using a circular breathing technique to evoke a continuous earthy vibration. It’s incredible going to the museum to see how the aboriginals use(d) the land to survive, their tonics and ailments, spears, food, narcotics – in such dry, harsh conditions in the bush, no wonder their faces look so worn and worked. Much of their culture, stories and secrets are passed on to the new generation by the elders such as the symbols in aboriginal art e.g. the rainbow serpent which is viewed as the giver of life as it’s associated with water but a force of destruction if angry. This and many other symbols are part of the ‘dreamtime – a place beyond time and space in which past, present and future exist as one’ (Wikepedia). Our minds slowly emerged from the tribal dubstep-like waves and we wondered over to the beautiful botanical gardens to slide out of the draining forces of industrialisation and into mother natures manicured garden. Strangely enough, that evening, in a little Japanese restaurant that J and I had chosen to eat in, I turned around to see E and her boyfriend walking through the door, an old friend from high school and the only person in Sydney that I knew and hadn’t thought to get intouch with – so we had cocktails together, got to introduce our boyfriends and then headed off back to our hostel… the world works in mysterious ways. Earlier that day the boys had had a head start on the evening to come, they found Duff beers at a nearby bar (the fact that homer, who’s most used word is ‘doh’ promotes a beer brand astounds me) and sauntered home to a night of J dancing to jungle in his boxers, threats from our neighbours and rules, toys and hearts being broken. 

Tarot Card readings

Our super packed car

The next morning was unexpected chaos, the group dynamic had shifted and we were one car (and member) down to continue the trip up to Byron. We spent a few hours toing and froing, packed the car to the brim and were awaiting the rev of the engine… but J had managed to twist the car key our of shape, so with true altruism, a fellow traveller heated up the metal and twisted it back into shape, eliciting the exciting vibrations of a moving vehicle! Off we went, munching on yiros (Greek kebabs) on the way and doing a night’s stop over at a sweet hostel in ‘Coffs Harbour’. I cooked the boys a pad-Thai for dinner and we settled in to a few good chats with French and German travellers, feeling the excitement of a fresh conversation growing. By the end of the night we weren’t the only ones that had heard the German boys as they drunkenly belted out the high notes from the shared showers (located in the centre of the hostel/ audible to all) at 1am, J and I giggled in the corridor as other travellers occasionally opened their doors in total confusion.

Meditating in Byron

S & I

A run on the sand, a swim in the sea, a surf in the waves and a game of bool – we stopped off at a beach in Coffs to get a taste of the pacific on a beautiful strip of beach on the way to Byron bay. That evening we checked out the commercial club scene at cheeky monkeys and then decided to have our own rave with some great music with thanks to M, C and Rambo V. The few days merged into one, the boys would skate down the lane towards the beach, passing our little organic shop, the rainbow shop, crystal stalls and yoga centres while the rest of us wandered in bikini’s by day and jumpers by night. We were there just before ‘Splendour in the Grass’, a big music festival that has Byron packed out so luckily we missed the crowds and got to make it our own before we left. It’s funny how fast routine kicks in, we’d have our daily coffees, juices from the juice stall, sushi rolls and movie rentals. 

Coffs Harbour

The attachment to the routine became so apparent, there was no desire to change it. We checked out ‘The arts house’, a very cool hostel with a huge camping area and great activities where Z had stayed before. On our walk home we were feeling adventurous so we tried a new route and got to a river. It felt like something out of ‘we’re going on a bear hunt’ we had the options of wading through the river, climbing across the trees overhanging the river and dropping off at the other side, or tarzan’ing it on a piece of manky rope hung from a precarious branch. Z climbed and made it, M climbed and made it, I walked (my shoes and socks soaking up the stench of the river), J climbed and made it, N climbed and just as we were smiling at nearly all of us having made it over we hear a ‘thud’ as the branch broke and we all turned around to see N on the ground with bruised ribs :s. After much deliberation, S waded through and made it too and then the old hippies arrived on their bicycles to notify us of our new interactive discovery – Byrons Cesspit. The walk home was plagued by the smell of hippie shit that let out a s.q.u.e.l.c.h. inbetween our toes with each step. Deeeelicious. 

The mystery of Australia hit home when I went on an indefinite run, bare footed down the beach for about 40 minutes until my feet ached and I stopped and spun 360° to see that I was completely alone. The sea and the beach went on forever, and there was only one black figure about 20 minutes away, sauntering along the sand. I was struck with both the fear (at realising I could disappear and no one would know) and the thrill of being totally alone and not having to conform to anyone. I spun in circles till my head was dizzy, took off all my clothes and jumped into the sea in exhilaration with the cold water against my body and no ground beneath my feet. I floated atop the turquoise waves with the sun on my face and let all the strings go for a minute. When I eventually lifted by head out of its reverie, I realised the only way to get back was to run all over again… :s As I approached the black figure my heart sped up, it was a man knee-deep in the sea, staring straight ahead with the same astonishment I’d just felt. I ran harder and faster until I got back to the others playing footie on the beach…

Suddenly it was our last night in Byron, P had also joined us and we raved the night away, some looking through a kaleidoscopic lens while others glided along the high of the night until morning came and we watched the sunrise on that ominous day that matched our mood. Pizza and movie night and the next day we were all off! Back to Adelaide for S, up to the Gold Coast for M n N and down to Melbourne for the rest of us! To break up the journey we spent a night in ­­­­­­­­­Newcastle where we hatched a plan to stay in a hostel for half price (if we only paid for the boys and pretended us girls had just met them on a night out) and it worked! We pretty much got a whole dorm room to ourselves, so we turned the floor into a massive mattress, deconstructing and rearranging the bunk beds and blankets, much to the confusion of the other guest in our room. 

Lead singer of Kingswood!

...

House raves

In Melbourne the next day we tried our luck again at a motel that we got away with too J, we spent the day exploring art museums, having more random coincidental run in-s with old high school friends and ending with a bang at a secret Kingswood concert (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avb-LliOPK0) as a warm-up to their performance at splendour. We hit it hard, sang with the lead singer, club hopped and landed with the spins back in our bed. The thoughtful hospitality of our very own St. Kilda resident J, convinced us to stay another night so we had a sleepover in his living room after watching the fire show outside the Crowne Casino and wishing Z a happy birthday as the clock struck 12. We arrived in Adelaide in good time that evening, continuing the travelling antics with a 21^st that evening, to rejoice with our other members and meet those I didn’t know yet. I’m lucky enough to have had 3 old friends fly over, two of whom I hadn’t seen for 7 years, R’s recently become a great pen pal and our reconnection was magical. We walked to Paradise along the river Torrens, cooked up a beautiful veg. buffet that fed 14 people (including leftovers), went out for dinners and desserts and had a lovely sleepover. H and I did much the same, opting for a D.I.Y wine night at home instead of a Barossa valley wine tour that was slightly dearer. And since then, I’ve settled into Adelaide (the first city in Aus not founded by convicts), I’ve got a job as a waitress at 2 café’s working with Z and J, I’m living in a beautiful family home, slowly building up my road sense after cycling everywhere, being fattened up at family dinners, trying out a few yoga studios, seshing with friends and connecting to my beautiful boyfriend. 

Australia’s been an interesting experience. I’d describe it as a mix between America and England; it has a lot of ‘diner’ style eateries, long expansive roads, a bit of Victorian architecture (in Adelaide especially – its architecture is based on London’s) and the ‘brush it off and have a beer’ attitude. But in-between all of that is a wild earthiness that I haven’t seen before; through their unnaturally large plants, fire-proof blackened trees and gritty nature it’s so easy to fall victim to the Adeladian rhythm, so for now I’ll take a break and listen to a new song with the comfort of knowing that I’ll soon return.. 

The Crew!

Quote of the day: 

'Not all those 

who 

wander are 

lost' 

J.R.R Tolkien

Bikini's and Booze Part 2

Gulping down a tambili (king coconut) before the drive ahead to replenish some of those lost salts and water from the night before I gathered my bearings and crawled into the car, everyone crashed out within the first 5 minutes and awoke at 9am to stop for breakfast at a run-down local cade, the rough taste lingering unwantedly in our mouths until lunchtime…

Tuk tuks

On the ramparts

Into the old Galle fort we drove where we unpacked our bags into the lovely house that we’d walked in and out of on so many different occasions over the years. We checked out our bedroom and lay down, the sky was the limit as the seed grew infinitely and burst into flower ‘J GET OUT!’ M’s voice screamed. I hurriedly grabbed my hippie pants, wiping the sweat off my brow and flattening my hair to run out and have a long catch up over the last 6-months of her life in LA.

Famalam

Galle fort was a Portugese creation in 1588 that was later fortified by the Dutch in 17th Century and in/ around it resides a small English/ Dutch community, many of whom are our old-time friends. Where once there were a few little shops, a jewelers, a café and a few restaurants, modernization is slowly taking over and now over 50 jewelry shops alone have opened, the roads teaming with tourists. We walked along the ramparts holding hands, looking over at the calm sea with various boats gliding past and the moans of the mosque ringing over the heads of the little boys playing football and the American family taking photo’s.

<3

We all crammed into two tuk-tuks and made our way to Wajaya, a friends place that was once a basic beach bar and has since been converted into a lovely motel/ restaurant on the beach that’s always busy. We watched the sunset with a beer and a smile, sitting with a group of old Galle-amigos, hearing what adventures everyone else had been having. Before the mozzies got too violent we headed home for a shocking episode of ‘banged up abroad’…

Have you ever heard of the tourists in 1999 that were 'butchered' in Uganda?(http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/africa/289196.stm) It’s basically about a group of tourists who were on safari in East Africa where rebel Hutu’s raided their campsites in their attempt to get revenge at having lost the war 5 years prior. The story’s re-enacted on the program while being narrated by one survivor who describes the horrors of seeing members of their group being taken off and hacked to death with machete’s, having to walk miles through this forest with no idea what the end result was going to be (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZ2O_LwykwY), besides making East Africa wrongly seem a bit savage, it’s a really good watch.

Omnomnom

Post-Dive

So I counted myself lucky to be safe and protected as our heads hit the pillow and we opened our eyes to the sunlight, feeling the first of many beads of sweat on my forehead. Our days in Galle were limited but luckily, in Sri Lanka everything moves so slowly that you somehow manage to fit it all in, what’s the point in rushing when you’re on holiday? That afternoon we went to the Kingfisher, another little place that used to be a shack on the beach and after renovation was now the top place to eat in Unawatuna, I couldn’t believe it. The new highway that had been built turned the 3 hour journey to Galle/ Una into a 45 minute one, so people from Colombo would come up for just the afternoon to have a bit of beach-time before returning home, meaning everywhere was always packed. To escape the crowds we were invited over to Butt farm, M’s new place on the paddy fields. Surrounded by tropical trees, the chirps of crickets and a sky filled with an array of pink, orange and blue streaks; we sipped on champagne and passed around bowls of fresh green salads, sundried tomato pasta and mango salsa accompanied by a beautiful white fish. Camera’s came out as we went through the photo’s that gave credit to all our stories. One of J.E’s photos was of a mammoth python that had terrorized the surrounding paddy fields for years, eating dogs and freaking out all the locals until one day the builders working on the house we were eating in, spotted it coming into the garden, captured it and left it in the empty chicken house – a nice surprise for J.E when she got home, tropical problems!

Roti Stop

A 55ft snake found in the forests of Malaysia
(The guy in the cage died of a heart attack shortly after
discovering it!)

The next morning after a fruity breakfast mum left, it’s always tough saying bye to family when you live abroad, instead of seeing them in a couple of weeks you’ve got to say bye for half a year. Over time I’m sure that will get easier but after falling back into the mode of ‘being the child’ it pulls on a few heartstrings. So she drove off and the boys and I spent the day at Wajaya, playing with the dog-bitten Frisbee and frolicking in the turquoise ocean with the deceivingly strong current. It was another goodbye when dad and my little brother left, tears streaming as I waved them off and clung on to J who at least was still here.

We’d been invited over to dinner that night at I’s and egos ran high as we all pitched in to cook the risotto, chicken and salad with a few home grown fumes to work up an appetite in-between. The others went off and J and I fell asleep with the TV showing Gordon Ramsey eating a snake heart in Vietnam, needless to say I had bizarre dreams that night.

I always find that no matter how much time I give myself in the morning, I always end up running out the door last minute as stressed as can be. This time was no different; we were heading up to my godmothers to stay in Jasmine cottage closer to Una. Gluten-free crepes at Crepeology, a quick coffee and a whole lotta powder… In my rushed attempt to find a present for my godmother I opened a tester ‘dry body scrub’ and tipped it towards my nose spilling all $20 worth on my face, my already-streaming nose went crazy and the sneezing fit began, J burst out laughing and the guy behind the till incessantly repeated ‘was that a tester? Was that a tester??’ Luckily it was, so he was happy, there was no charge and for the rest of the day I smelt like cinnamon, every cloud has a silver lining right…

A fisherman amongst the stilts

Despite the rush, we made it to our destination just as F was getting off the bus, off to the cottage we drove, curry for lunch, boogie boarding some mammoth waves, shower and a yummy dinner of jumbo prawns and fried rice at the ‘Blue Crab’. The next few days were very active, body rash from surfing, a tan from boogie boarding, a cough from too much shisha, goggle marks from diving and a full belly from lots of yummy food. We discovered that teh tarik in Malaysia is the same as ‘yard tea’ in Sri Lanka, a milky sugary concoction that’s the perfect energy boost mid-afternoon. I found out that the reason they like their tea so sweet, is because fresh milk didn’t used to exist but condensed milk did, hence the intense sweetness and the reason they use it in their coffee in Vietnam/ Cambodia/ South East Asia! While we were having the tea conversation at this Thai restaurant on the beach, something lead on to the idea of ‘race’ - do you know what the stats are to maintain a race? You have to have 2.2 kids minimum and if you look at the population stats in countries in the west now, it’s not plausible for the ‘white’ race to survive – interesting huh? I reckon one day with all this mix and matching we’ll all end up the same color, I mean the mixing’s already happening with the majority of people I know, including myself.

 That night with hungry eyes G, J and I munched our way through every flavor of chocolate that the box of galaxies had to offer, until we could munch no more and clutched our tummy’s in bed with a moan. The next night, possible due to our already-expanded stomachs, within the space of a few hours we managed roti, curries, ice cream and somehow a huge Mexican meal at ‘Fortelasia’ a fantastic place to eat in the fort if anyone’s looking for one.

On our last day on the beach we crammed in a few waves to work off the meal the night before, packed up and lay on our bags waiting for the van to pick us up so that we could make it to our appointment with the astrologer, time was ticking and when the ‘van’ finally arrived it turned out to be a car that didn’t have enough space for J and I, so we grabbed our backpacks and ran to get tuk-tuk to the bus station, jumping on the first bus we saw we arrived in Colombo 45 minutes later, jumped into another tuk tuk and yes! We arrived 10 minutes before our appointment, I won’t go into details but it was an interesting session that began with ‘you two are very compatible for marriage’ gulp! This astrologer was well known for predicting years before the disaster, that on the 26^th December 2004 a third of the population would be wiped out – and sure enough, the tsunami happened. During the reading he’d refer constantly to numbers and charts and dusty old books – he was an interesting man indeed and we came away with a few seeds of knowledge.

The dog that ate the cat-fish.

Waiting for our van

There were only 2 nights left! What was happening? We got into another tuk, holding onto the edge of my seat as I anticipated a crash at any moment. We weaved between the wobbly buses, breathing in the sweet perfume of the Mercedes exhaust pipe in front of us, we drove in the opposite direction to the traffic on a one way road and made a last violent swerve as I breathed a sigh of relief at having arrived home safe and in one piece.

Our last affordable classy dinner for a while was at the Dutch Hospital that contains a boulevard of cafes and restaurants, walking back along the green by the seaside we crashed out for our last night together in SL.

Our last day was spent indulging in great food, cakes and coffee with two of my favourite people in the world, a quick haircut and to top it all off… flu L J. had a few hours before the taxi to the airport was arriving and he spent it curled up in bed with hot and cold shivers and a mug of herbal tea, the storm outside was the appropriate soundtrack for the scene. I waved him off, making sure he had a few paracetemol and tissues for the long journey, it sucks to be sick on an airplane…

Last day in Colombo

Now he’s probably in the air, about to touch down for his stop-over in Dubai as I’m about to board my flight. Soon our adventures shall begin in England but I must savour the last few minutes before it all turns into another memory. I’ll close my eyes tonight and feel Ulpotha mud between by toes, hear the sound of the drums, taste the hot coconut sambal, smell the distinct curry leaf and look back in wonder at the magic of Ceylon.

Recipe of the day: Grilled tilapia with mango salsa
http://allrecipes.com/recipe/grilled-tilapia-with-mango-salsa/