So I guess I'll start at the beginning.
Flying in on a sleepless Qantas flight (I had to watch Glee: The Movie Live to cancel out the delirious horror of Contagion.. note to germphobic self.. do not watch movies like this on planes), I landed in Brisbane, to be met by Moira, who actually had a sign for me! I've never had a sign at an airport before, and felt totes VIP. Big thanks to the Cunninghams who looked after me for the next few days and then dropped me off at my Christmas stop-off, Byron Bay.
I'd heard great things about Byron, and don't get me wrong, it's beautiful. Lovely sandy beach, crashing waves and Australia's most easterly point marked by a Round-the-Twist style lighthouse, it's the perfect destination for your Christmas jollies.
But something wasn't right. I just wasn't feeling it. I should always regret not following the advice of my boofty Ozzie travel gurus Ben and Jamie for missing out everything from Cairns downwards, but you live and learn and if I've learnt anything on this trip it's not to have regrets. So here I was, Byron Bay, all dolled up for Christmas with nowhere to go. After the spectacular few months in Asia, I was deflated.
I pretty much hated my hostels, but met some great people who pulled me into (and subsequently out of) my vicious trap of getting plastered on goon and eating only pies. Pie for breakfast, goon for dinner. Pie for breakfast, goon for dinner. I couldn't even be bothered to go to the beach. Too many hippies playing bongos and not enough Christmas. So after my friend offered to have me choppered out of Byron and down to Melbourne for the festivities, I pulled myself together and changed my coach to leave for Sydney. For those who don't know what goon is, I'll blog separately about that little treat.
Sydney suddenly made sense. It's like London-on-Sea, and I was beginning to feel more normal. As normal as having Doritos and salsa for Christmas dinner on the beach can be, I had fun.
The fireworks at New Years were spectacular, but in all honesty, I missed the British Christmas. I knew I would, but I underestimated how much I wanted to be drinking Baileys by the fire, eating turkey and then turning into the Grinch by Boxing Day as I usually would. I was kind of glad when it was all over. Special mention to Mother Hen Whittem for looking after me in Sydney, feeding me vodka and brunches and Prisoner Cell Block H repeats when I needed it most xoxo.
So onwards and upwards, and after a week down south in Melbourne I feel invigorated. Melbs was ace, and I loved visting the galleries, coffee shops and just hanging out in the city. We took in the zoo (with the hope of seeing a koala, but they were asleep so I just saw their butts), hung out in St Kilda and I spent a day in the Old Melbourne Gaol dressing up as Ned Kelly. Big love to Jodie and the crew for making me feel so welcome. We won't mention the degrading trip to the airport, but I'm quitting the red bull and dim sims for sure.
I can't even begin to describe the Neighbours tour, suffice to say the visit to Ramsay Street was the highlight of my life. No Harold, but I regressed at least 15 years and loved every second of it.
So back to Sydney, and back to work. I'm just temping, not exactly the most taxing job ever but I got to pay the travel bills somehow. I am literally a sixth form gap year student, it's ridiculous.
Sydney is starting to feel like home and I still get a little buzz whenever I see the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. Even if that is after too many sherries at the Opera Bar.
Next stop.. SOUTH AMERICA!
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