Tank Top Tans, Denim Shorts and the Rat Tail…It’s all becoming too okay

Oh how I miss Polo shirts, khaki shorts and boat shoes. I miss a haircut without the weird long fringe at the back. I got my haircut a couple of days ago by Jade my British roommate and hairdresser who, when it got dark outside had to use a headlamp to cut my hair. Anyway she set up shop and went to town on our entire room. So before leaving for 3 days of camping on the beach with no showers our entire group was well groomed. Fraser Island is the largest sand island in the world. So the drill is they set you up with a big fourwheel drive car (pictured above) and camping gear and off you go to get stuck in sand dunes and go swimming in lakes and get your bag ripped apart by a dingo because you forgot you had a fruit and nut chocolate bar in it – fat kid here - and left it out in the middle of camp. You also get to pay $5 for a small bag of ice, get third degree burns on the bottom of your feet pushing your car out of the sand, also you get to wash your dishes in the sea with sand…actually this is really fun and I would do it all the time if I lived on the beach… and not shower for 3 days. But actually none of that matters because it’s pretty much an amazing time. I got to sleep under the stars and have the beach to myself at sunrise and I met a few nice Brits, Danes, Swedes and Swiss in the process.

The East Coast is almost over with, I’ll be in Brisbane in a couple days. Noosa is nice, I was informed yesterday that I came here when I was 7 but that’s why you never take a 7 year old anywhere. I like Noosa, pretty sure because it reminds me of home and as I missed Thanksgiving with my family, friends and the food, so I am allowed to like it for that reason alone. I know you were wondering and yes I have entirely given up on Eat, Pray, Love maybe when I am finished with Around the World in 80 Days I will give it another go. But the latter is excellent, and not just because David Niven (one of my favorite actors ever, sorry Michael) played Phileaus Fogg in the original movie.

Hope you had a good Thanksgiving, I ate PB&J's for everymeal on Thursday while you were feasting on turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and if you were at a Krikorian Thanksgiving probably some hummus and rice too. So you can be thankful for that!!

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Huge Fish; Hot Mess Goes Diving…Again…

In a secret attempt to have more conversation topics in the unlikely event I were to run into my Gorgeous Dive Instructor a third time and give him a second opportunity to propose to me.

Did you know it is hypothesized that Dr. Suess books having a theological foundation? Me neither. And yet that has nothing to do with anything except I will yet again complain about Eat, Pray, Love. Elizabeth for the love of God, and all of your readers, why the Hell didn’t you stay in Italy where we could all have gained 20 pounds (15 of which you “needed” to gain) vicariously through you. I will push onward but the Ashram in India just isn’t doing it for me – don’t worry I am sure Julia Roberts will sex up the part and they will manipulate enough of the story…like your self imposed celibacy…to make it a worthwhile film to see. In the meantime Bram Stoker’s Dracula was a masterpiece and while it took me a full month to read (during which time I did have to take breaks) it really is worthwhile. Just don’t expect an outdated Twighlight ladies because Bram wasn’t targeting sexually frustrated women of all ages when he wrote the thing.

Sooo I went diving…again and guess what! despite my apparent motives I think I have the diving bug. Yongala is different from the Prodive boat, see above photo for an example. 30 minutes out to the dive site, it was like being on a speed boat in rough water, thrilling and also a little bit unnerving knowing that for only my tenth dive I had to go backwards out of the boat James Bond style into the swelling waters. Luckily my dive instructor and guide; a red headed, freckle faced, 125 pound look alike of Johnny Depp with a handle bar mustache (believe me he was) did a great job of making me feel comfortable in the water. He took me down to do my 30 metres (90 feet). The slew of nasal sprays and other over the counters I used did the trick so getting to the depth was no problemo.

My roommates at the dive “hostel” - better described as a house with a dive shop in the garage and bunk beds in every room upstairs - were (2) American couples who have dived all over the world and if this dive didn’t inspire me to dive more they certainly did. Did I mention they were in their late 50’s sleeping in bunk-beds (I can assure you they are staying at 5 star accommodations everywhere else) nonetheless they had a pretty good time. This post is getting a little long and boring but anyway I don’t have much to compare the dive to but there was a Grouper the size of a Mini Cooper (Note to mom, they don’t hurt people) a sea snake (apparently poisonous and killer if they get your ear) and turtles galore – possibly my favorite, if cats lower blood pressure I think sea turtles probably do too – these treasures were amidst the thousands of small fish that are swimming around you all the time going on about their life as if you aren’t there. As for the actual shipwreck, you can hardly tell it is one except for the odd shape the coral takes in certain places.

Come to think of it my Dive instructor looks like he could easily have fathered Michael Anthony Hall. I wonder if M.A.H. is capable of growing facial hair though? Hmmmm questionable…I’ll leave you to ponder that and also what I looked like in a wetsuit, snorkel mask and wait for it….a wetsuit hood.

If that doesn’t make you laugh I am at a loss…except for what I wasn’t going to tell you which is that my hood kept getting a big air bubble at the top, approximately the size of a second more oblong head. Yup no one else seemed to have the bubble just me. And even 10 metres down I could hear M.A.H’s dad laughing and pointing at me. What can I say except I don’t think there is any photographic evidence of this. Thank God.

Molly Ringwald, Rainforests and A Tribute to the Load of Laundry I have Going Right Now

MS and I arrived in Cape Tribulation today. The whole way up cursing the travel agent who told us to spend 2 nights in Port Douglas and 1 night here. Cape Trib, for those of us not lucky enough to have done a lot of tropical rainforest traveling, is magical. Despite the influx of tourists this area gets the Cape is extremely well maintained and hostels, hotels and the miscellaneous other establishments; such as an ice cream tastery (is that a word anyway?) are well hidden from the road so that while driving along you really feel like you are one of the first people to discover this wonderland of baskets ferns, cassowary’s and early afternoon rain showers. It helps that there aren’t too many cars on the road today. Our “Jungle Surfing” dreadlock rocking guide tells us it has been a slow week here.

ANYWAY I feel like I have been a little sleep inducing lately. Like where did my edge go. Things have been going too well maybe? I have been liking everywhere I have been and hence am having a hard time making fun of myself which let’s be honest makes reading this less fun for you. I could tell you about the sunburn I got on my back – no I haven’t learned yet – or how I seem to think that straightening my hair in 80% humidity will work and yet never does. I could tell you how it has become regular practice to smell my clothes to determine how clean they are – see when you are traveling there are different levels - clean, wearable but smelly, smelly but wearable, dirty (which does not disclude it from the wearable pile) Only the really rank shit gets put in the laundry bag. I could tell you how I have come to wear the same thing pretty much every-night or how I have ditched clothes at 3 different locations to make more room available for the unnecessary purchases I have been made, including but not limited to a hat and another pair of flip flops (I nominate the clothes ditching for the Hot Mess Hall of Shame) this practice was first used by CS in 2007 during our romp around Europe, while effective it does make one wish they had just known not to pack their butterfly dress because neither the dress part or the butterfly part really appeals to yours truly, the angel of darkness. My jungle surfing helmet read “Tinkerbell” yesterday which is laughable isn’t it.

I could tell you all about all that but instead I choose to simply apologize for being so obvious. Because really who doesn’t think the rainforest is magical especially done via car rental with one of your best friends who has even less experience driving on the left side of the road than you do. I mean really people it’s like extreme driving – except the rental car has about as much get up and go as a snail and in a battle between Kangaroo and it the Kangaroo would surely prevail. Also the ride goes something like this

MK to MS – “Intentional” commence windshield wipers.

MK to MS – Commence windshield wipers instead of blinker, “Shit, Damn it, not intentional”

So you see it took both of us looking both ways at all times to get up and back to Cape Trib, because we never knew quite which direction cars were going to come from.

I will be going silent whilst (very Australian word to use especially in menus) heading down the East Coast for the next three weeks. There may be a click or two for fun if I feel like it but generally probably nothing. I’ll be busy diving, kayaking, sailing and fourwheel driving. If I live to see the end of it all I will end up in Brisbane to see my cousin Tina, who doesn’t know she is the namesake of my first two cats – have I already told you about that? – because when I was 7 she was 16, she had a perm and was about the coolest person I had ever met. Don’t worry we can bond over our mutual appreciation of the straightening iron these days.

See you in a few. It just occurred to me you were probably waiting to hear my argument in favor of puppies, but that will have to wait. It’s 10pm and “Eat, Pray, Love” is calling. How come no one told me it is was an effing SELF HELP book?

PS I wasn’t going to tell you this but MS doesn’t want to hear about it again. I ran into my gorgeous dive instructor yesterday and luckily had just booked another two dives so I looked extremely adventurous and cool if I do say so myself. And yet he forgot to ask me to marry him? I don’t know maybe he didn’t hear my proclamation of love. It would have been hard to focus on my words in between my stuttering and fully blushed cheeks. What can I say did you expect any less from your Hot Mess?

Cheers. See you in December!

Melbourne, Melbourne, Melbourne...Melbun?

I still feel uncomfortable saying it. The damn R is really harsh coming from my mouth in Australia. So I will have to be content saying the R every second time and Melbun every other… equal opportunity to offend all. And on that note it seems despite my best efforts to travel to a place where I could understand and be understood there are things here that don’t quite translate. Phrases too that while I understand them they clash culturally. For example when I first arrived in Sydney the weather forecast was… fine. Which, I mean, is that a nice way of saying it is kind of crappy outside with a chance of rain? Among others cheers, breakie – breakfast – mozzies – mosquito's – oh also way back when apparently the derogatory term for an American was a Sepo…wait for this. Yank rhymes with septic tank which…obviously is why you would call us Sepo’s. While this is apparently an old term MS and I still get called it enough to make one think contrary. Also the word “Awesome” is thrown around about as much as “rad” was when I was in second grade – which naturally makes me happy –

Anyway Melbourne is a city of culture and cafes, wine and hidden alleys that lead to unbelievable bars and restaurants (so unbelievable in fact I wanted to ask are you really walking me up these creepy dark dank concrete stairs that were behind a black aluminum unmarked door to kill me…only to be taken into a gorgeous open high ceiling ed room with beautifully crafted windows and a view) This is Melbourne although not everything amazing is hidden from plane view; the cafes with endless outdoor seating that far outdoes Paris, the river teaming with crew boats – what are those called anyway – and what may be the highlight of my trip to date, on land anyway, the Melbourne Botanical Gardens.

It’s a city for food and wine. We took a trip to the Yarra Valley which is Melbourne’s wine country. It is stunning and even better the tastings are free. An all night tasting event at one of our hidden bars pours us onto the street at 5:30am and puts us on our ass for half the next day but even that day is spent restfully with a walk and a mildly embarrassing amount of Mexican food to cure our hangover – Please mail me a burrito with lots of hot salsa, my craving isn’t quenched yet and I have a feeling it won’t be for about 8 more months – The races on Tuesday are a world of their own. At 5’-6” (on a good day) catching a glimpse of more than the horses head is tricky but I enjoyed hat scoping more anyway. MS and I of course partook in our own hatage and somehow by the end of the day I almost felt like a normal hat wearer

We rushed frantically to the airport this morning without what felt like a proper goodbye to the city. But something tells me we don’t need to say goodbye because we will find our way back.

See you next time for a little commentary on Australian men and why I think puppies are better than babies.

Hot Mess Goes Diving

And if you thought I was a hot mess on land you should have been there to see me in my scuba gear. As I write to you I am back at the farm for a day before I leave for the Melbourne Cup, my ears are still popping. Not the kind of popping you get from the airplane, the kind of popping that makes it sound like you are underwater. Whohoo a souvenir! Also the porch I am sitting on as I write to you is swaying back and forth, back and forth making me feel like A. I am still on the boat and B. I just had a couple breakfast cocktails. But you will be happy to know I am officially certified to dive without an instructor. A fact that my mother can't seem to fathom and given the facts I can't blame her. 3 days of diving would hardly prepare me for the James Bond swimming with the sharks diving I am sure she is envisioning. Speaking of James Bond, my scuba instructor is his younger more attractive - sorry Sean - Irish brother who I am in love with. Of course it was a one-sided romance, he is way out of my league - pun intended laugh now - Hot Mess doesn't look hot in a wetsuit especially when you add the weight-belt around the mid-section. And in case you thought I had a chance once I got out of the wetsuit picture this. Me hopping around the boat deck wiggling and jiggling to get out of the damn thing. Goggle marks for days and then of course I had a cold...so just like my mother did when I was little we had a conversation about my snotty nose and how it was making it difficult for me to equalize. Amazing. Yup the romance was there alright.

C'est la vie, I was at a little bit of a disadvantage and anyway he doesn't date hot messes. In the meantime I am happy to say I have 5 new Dutch friends who I think would love it if I came to visit them - I think we understood each other... Hot Mess in Holland has a beautiful ring to it doesn't it? I was even promised a job in a chocolate store at the airport which sounds tasty.

But back to the diving. Wow, it's a serious pain in the ass. Setting up the equipment, forcing yourself into a wet wetsuit, which in itself is totally demoralizing, then slipping on 40lbs of gear and the flattering mask to go with it.

It is worth every second. Because as soon as you jump in the water you are weightless and no sooner do you jump in than you want to be descending into the calm underwater. The fish flock to the boat for the food they get from leftovers so within minutes you are swimming with the fish. Neon colors, changing colors, stripes, spots and turtles it is peaceful and weightless and utterly calming to be in the quiet watching an entire other world go on around you. And the coral is stunning, cauliflower shaped green bowls are my favorite. They are vibrant and incredible and untouched. So by the forth dive when we go out on our own for the first time nothing else matters except getting in the water and going. A few nerves about finding the boat with a compass (which proves futile, I have to come up to find the boat direction anyway) but other than that it is all triple flips and cartwheels and a friendly bottom dwelling shark.

See you in Melbourne for the Cup. If you have a hot tip on the winning horse let me know. In the meantime the land will be rocking me to sleep tonight...or is it the pre-dinner cocktails I had?

Fried Onions with Liver and Osama Bin Ladin...Plastic Surgery or Not?

Tonight was a night of discovery in the “big house” on walkamin farm. Dermott who has been here 3 months and counting, showed all the house residents how to keep the shower head (which is on a hose) from falling out of the cradle. So myself Stephanie the English girl and the three Irish boys all crowded into the shower to see the secret trick. The tutorial was excellent but unwarranted and I would feel to stupid explaining it as it is so simple. It's the little things people and having a shower-head continuously fall on you while showering can really rake on your nerves.

Also for the last two weeks I have been itching non-stop, I know I already mentioned this. I am allergic to something here, but now that I have discovered the over the counter anti-histamine I will probably never find out what it is my skin is painfully allergic to. Thank the heavens and dear god now a mosquito bite feels like child’s play (there’s your secret optimist in action) Except apparently you can’t keep taking anti-histamines because they are bad for your liver. I don’t know much about that except tonight our resident Bulgarian Toto cooked liver for dinner with onions and pickles. Dionne his 13 year old son who has the best English in their family of three, initially translated it as black lung, which would be ironic if he smoked…. But he doesn’t and in fact it was liver and despite my half assed whooing and hawing they served me up a full plate. Toto knows I love grilled onions and with the extra serving he gave me he knew I could never turn it down. Maria opened a bottle of sparkling white wine (she won’t drink red for the same reason many of us still can’t look Captain Morgan in the eye) And thus the evening began…with my second dinner - the first of which was a delicious breakfast burrito which I made with pita bread as a tortilla, processed cheese as a vague reminder of “Mexican blend,” some downright spicy El Paseo which I picked up at the store for way too much money but it was totally worth it and scrambled eggs (it still freaks me out that they don’t refrigerate their eggs) –and a lively conversation in half English, half Bulgarian and half mime ensued. Topics ranged from Cattle Farming to Osama Bin Laden and why wouldn't he have plastic surgery to escape and live a free life (Dionne's contribution) to transgender plastic surgery to hangover cures. Miming affords these kinds of transitions I suppose.

Maria moved here from Bulgaria last year, Toto one year prior and while they love Australia they also miss Bulgaria - so during tonight's dinner we revisit some of their previous life, the a small vegetable garden in Maria’s Mother’s home (of whom she may never see again), Maria’s fabulous hairstylist that she misses and hasn’t been able to replace and without knowing it suddenly they are nostalgic for loved ones and their old life yet they never overlook the hospitality and home they have found here and I can’t help thinking for them thank god for Skype, Maria skypes with her parents almost daily. For me it is a reminder that I’m really not gone all that long and I am really not all that far away either. And suddenly I have taken a turn for the sentimental…yet again.

So in an effort to get this posted and overwith before you start shedding tears…let’s just say I write to you a little sentimentally, a little drunk (thanks to Maria) and extremely full. Oh and if you didn’t catch the processed cheese reference earlier let me reassure you, I haven’t changed my ways. I have at least one slice in everything I make….the stuff is genius and delicious and a reminder of home.

Cheers and Nas Drava (Bulgarian, a rough spelling) I’ll see you next week hopefully with some underwater photos from some diving in the great barrier reef.

Adventures in Australia - From What I Can Remember When I Was Seven Anyway

I'm back. In Australia that is. I was last here in 1991 I think. Oh the early 90's how great were they. I mean really they gave us a lot to be thankful for. Women's sports coats - back already - and hellllooo acid washed denim. Not as good as the 80's - which you know how I feel about them, dear dear Michael Anthony Hall - Anyway I was 7 in 1991 and doing my 2nd year of first grade which while somewhat humiliating at the time, never really set me back. I am still trying to decide if being the last to turn 21 of your friends or the first is worse. I was definitely first. Although lucky for me ex-bf was 24 at the time so I guess it really did all work out at the end. I was actually thinking about ex-bf brett earlier today as the sprinkler, which is about 20 feet away from the patio I sit on to write to you was spraying water on me while spinning vicariously around and spraying mostly everything except what it needed to spray. You may wonder why he came to mind...well I'll tell you. He was getting his Bioresource and Agricultural Engineering Degree from Cal Poly. Yeah I don't know what it means either except he was working to patent a special type of sprinkler head that was a supposed to direct the water more effectively. Well Brett I guess they haven't gotten your design over in Australia yet.

I digress. So 7 years old and this is what I remember of my last Australian visit.

Australia 1991

Long Flight - Mom made us change into PJ's

Cane Toads - Dad told us they spit poison and could kill us, so we had to stay away from them (more on this stay tuned)

Hotel with Pool on top of roof

Uncle H making breakfast with thick cut bacon

Mom and Dad Making us wear these horrific mullets caps - Pictures above, I may be scarred for life from this.

Holding a Koala Bear - This memory is likely only valid as there is photographic evidence and without it we can't be sure I would have remembered it

Kurt being chased by an Emu - Fucking Hilarious

Hotel with neon lights and waterfall in pool

Guy at hotel with neon lights and waterfall in pool partially swallowing cane toad - in an adults show we clearly weren't supposed to see - evidence to above reference of cane toads is clearly contradictory- (more on this stay tuned)

Eels

My Cousin Tina and her fab perm

And that's all.

*Parents, the above is a good argument in favor of not taking your children anywhere of substance while they are under 7 years of age.

So... from now on my adventures and embarrassments and everything else I document will be me from Australia AND while I was meaning to rename the blog something more fitting the truth is I really won't be anything but a hot mess while I am here. The humidity makes my hair curly, frizzy and huge. I am one big bug bite/ Rash (allergen still to be determined). While driving on the right side I routinely turn the windsheild wipers on instead of the blinker. And while I strive to be a fearless and carefree lone traveler I am anything but. So Hot Mess I remain but pardon me if I didn't want to call the blog Hot Mess Down Under. Hot Mess in Australia doesn't have a good ring so stay posted or send me suggestions.

In the meantime I write to you fondly from a farm outside of Cairns near a town with a spanish sounding name while being eaten alive by "mozzies" in the middle of effing nowhere. And if I didn't know where I was I would think I was in Paradise (but in my Paradise I would be able to get Mexican food)

Stay tuned for Australia in 2009.