Fraser Island, Queensland

Before I start, a quick note on why this beast of a blog hasn't been updated frequently of late.

Um, I was having too much fun! Which in no way reminds me of Fraser Island - a rather pretty 70-kilometre stretch of sand off the coast of Australia. Don't get me wrong, I liked the two-night, three-day trip. But I was still in my Oz-themed, near-emo level funk, and I was just OVER looking at beaches in weather that was downright chilly.

Here's a pic I took of Fraser Island for you...



You know what I think the problem was at this point? Australia, as I've mentioned, wasn't somewhere I was ever too fussed about going; and it's not that I wasn't excited about it, I just didn't have the drive and determination you need sometimes while backpacking. On the odd occasion when travelling you just hit a slump… your bag annoys you, hostels annoy you, money annoys you, even the teddy I brought with me wasn't providing any respite (don't tell him I said that). Travelling solo, for all of its awesomeness, gets exhausting. Yes, you meet loads of people and it's a huge amount of fun. But just when you really need it, there is nobody off of which to bounce ideas, nobody to give you that kick up the bum you need. What's more, the days when you do nothing seem a waste. This is illogical, because in real life, no one does amazing stuff all day every day. Yet because it's such an effort to be travelling in the first place, you feel a bit guilty when you take the "day off".

So, spoiled western girl problems aside, I wasn't massively excited about Fraser Island. It's a big sandy island and it's really beautiful and BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. There are few permanent residents and no roads, so every trip there needs to be done in a 4x4. I went with Trailblazers, which differs from the norm by offering accommodation at a little beach hut-type-thing, rather than camping, which is the more popular type of sojourn on Fraser.

Here's a pic or three of where we stayed etc.







I get picked up from Noosa and our (I say our because a friend I had met was coming too) group numbers about ten people and our tour leader is this really fun guy called Brett, a name I am overjoyed to hear, because you can't get more Australian than a name like Brett. Well, maybe Kylie. But Brett is good enough. Basically, Brett will drive a big 4x4 mini van from Noosa to Fraser, take us to various places on the island and cook/get his minions to cook dinner for us each night. One of these dinners turns out to be kangaroo, and boy it is delicious.

For anyone who doesn't know - and I didn't until about a day before the trip - Fraser Island is basically a giant sand island, home to thousands of wildlife species and beautiful lakes; and it is also a Unesco World Heritage Site.




Highlights:

Getting to see Fraser from above in a little six-seater plane



Seeing whales

Seeing a dingo (remember, they're not cute, they're deadly, just ask Meryl Streep)


Meeting some really nice people (I'm the Smurf at the back)



Seeing a baby shark go a bit too near a surfer (OOH THE TENSION!)

Paddling down a lazy river (full of natural, drinkable mineral water)

Sitting round a camp fire and chatting


Lowlights:

Having to go to bed in tights, leggings, jeans, a hoody, a fleece and giant fluffy socks

Then waking up to a cold shower

Meeting some annoying people

Realising my appetite is bigger than everyone else's

Freezing my nads off after paddling down the lazy river


...but overall I highly recommend Fraser Island; it's very beautiful, it's fun, it's simple, but just make sure you go in summer!



Toodles
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Solo book club

I picked up a copy of Tweak by Nic Sheff in a hostel in Bangkok and quickly finished it within a few hours, thanks to the author's hyperactive writing style which makes it an easy one to speed through. A memoir of Sheff's "life growing up on methamphetamines", it falls squarely into the genre of addiction memoir, although he is careful to pop a disclaimer at the beginning stating that some characters and events have been changed so as to avoid offense or breach personal privacy.

Yeah, right. This is what annoys me about these books. If an author is going to lay bare the horrors of addiction and make money from telling people about how they went through hell purely by making bad choices, they need to be upfront about the whole lot and not make edits here and there in order to make the story more interesting. It's patronising and risky, because once a reader's belief in the subject matter is suspended too far, it's hard to give any weight to the true parts of the story. What's more, certain authors have only started doing this since James Frey, who won praise and, soon afterwards, scorn for his book A Million Little Pieces (and even then it was only because Oprah found out a chunk of the "autobiography" was completely made up) was made a literary laughing stock and now churns out garbage like I Am Number Four through a weird writing house/pseudo book-writing collective (apparently). Side note: I've still not watched the entire movie adaptation of I Am Number Four. Is it worth giving it another go?

Anyway, Tweak is very Frey-esque, in that he seems desperate to show his readers how screwed up his life was and the depths he would sink to in order to get the next hit. The difference is that Sheff makes no excuses for his behaviour, nor attempts to examine the cause of such intense and debilitating addiction. He also relapses again and again even after the book ends; a fact the reader is encouraged to discover via the author's somewhat pretentious blog. A little more Googling led me to discover that not only is Sheff's dad a much-acclaimed journalist, but has also written a book about his son's problems, entitled Beautiful Boy. So I start to wonder; is the publication of Tweak down to nepotism, or would it have been strong enough to stand alone? I highly doubt it.

Toodles
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Noosa, Queensland

Noosa is a little surfing town (yeah, another one) on what's called Queensland's Sunshine Coast. It is picturesque (yawn), with a few nice shops, a pretty beach (another yawn) and not much else. There are two bars, frequented by all the backpackers. They are worse than the old Manchester Met University Student Union, which was spectacularly grim.

That said, I ended up having a grand old time in Noosa. I had been feeling a bit like I needed to start exercising again so went running along the shoreline and, cringefully, had one of those moments where you look at the gorgeous ocean, the soft sand, the blue sky... and think yes I definitely made the right decision to go travelling. Running is the one thing that clears my head and it felt great to get out again. It definitely beat running on the treadmill at the gym my sister and I go to... she can tell you all about the characters in there if you have a spare five hours and want to be put off your dinner.

Here's the beautiful coastline I was lucky enough to visit... but don't be fooled; it wasn't nearly warm enough there to sunbathe.




ANYWAY. In Noosa there was the usual selection of hostels, but a friend and I plumped for Noosa Flashpackers, which lives up to its name by offering a little bit of backpacker luxury for only a few more dollars (it was the maximum I paid for accommodation in Oz, at $30 per night. I'm writing this from Asia, where the idea of paying $30 per night makes me feel a bit sick). It also meant I got to meet some awesome people, minus a few bad apples/foxes in the henhouse/whichever metaphor you prefer. We spent many an hour playing Mario Kart on the Wii in the TV lounge. It got pretty ugly. I'm not naming any names but you know who you are and dirty tricks won't get you very far in life. Also, 150cc is way too difficult and if you hadn't stolen King Boo every single race maybe I would have won a few more times. Losing isn't my speciality and neither is Dry Bones.



Flashpackers is the kind of place you go for a night and end up staying five or six. It was all too easy to just laze around and relax. For me, this was a new thing. I'm not used to doing nothing. Between my iPhone, netbook, compulsive need to write lists, go to the gym, work, chatter and stay busy, it's simple at home for me never to have a spare moment. Here, on the other side of the world, I had to get used to doing the total opposite. Not only does your body have to slow down, but your mind does. It literally empties because you have so much time - oodles and oodles of time - to untie mental knots, compartmentalise, regroup and reboot. It doesn't mean you work perfectly when you switch yourself back on again, but it sure does feel good to stop and look at your surroundings for a minute. That reminds me of a line from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Didn't he say something similar?

Toodles
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Solo book club

I've had a busy week travelling, but one that also gave me a lot of time on planes and trains to do some more reading. Here are the three I've devoured in that time...

Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua - this is OUTSTANDING. Amy Chua is a law professor at Yale University and this memoir discusses her decision to raise her children using the "Chinese Method". For instance, she does not let them go to sleepovers, act in the school play, or get any grade lower than an A. At all. She drills piano and violin practice with them for at least three hours every day and makes sure they grow up speaking Mandarin (even though she doesn't). She raises them in the Jewish faith, even though her Jewish husband is non-practising. It's shocking and extreme, but she writes with such wit and a hint of self-parody that makes this book easy to eat up - and think about for a good while afterwards. Although the premise is simple - her method is controversial and she expects criticism - it's hard to dislike her. Her arguments cover everything from ethnicity and "Western values" to identity and self-belief. The book made me question what hard work is, where motivation comes from and the value of ambition - and whether or not everyone would benefit from a bit of tiger mother mentality!

The Carrie Diaries by Candace Bushnell - I picked this up in Singapore Airport thinking it would be a bit of harmless fluff. Well, it turns out that the worse a book is, the longer it takes to read. Remember how I talked about disappointments? This was one of them. Candace Bushnell created Sex and the City (in book form), which remains one of my favourite TV shows to this day, and here she writes about one of the characters as a teen. Any fan of the series would be interested in reading this prequel, I don't doubt. But it's just terrible. Bushnell rolls out every cliché in the book, making Carrie completely unrecognisable to those who have watched the show. Even the details don't work; there is no continuity, no charm, none of the wit and intelligence of the screen version. The blurb even uses the words "coming of age". Barf. It's devoid of humour, love and characters you can relate to. A complete waste of everyone's time. The second SATC movie was bad enough, so let's just leave things as they are and remember the show as the classic it was, hmm?

A Paper Life by Tatum O'Neal - a random choice yes, but this actress, who was married to John McEnroe and remains the youngest-ever Oscar winner, is oddly fascinating. It's not exactly a ground-breaking memoir (drug addiction, check, horrid parents, check, growing up too fast in Hollywood, check) but it suffices and is, ostensibly at least, very honest.

PS. I know it's wrong, but I still think John McEnroe is really hot. That should surprise nobody.

Toodles
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Brisbane, Queensland

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Hands down the most boring city I've ever visited. No culture, no identity, nothing. A river, some buildings, some shops, some lights, a good library, that's it. Sorry if I've offended anyone who lives there (? - pretty sure this blog's readership isn't that wide).

So dull I fell asleep for three hours in the hostel lounge. In the middle of the afternoon.



Snooze.
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Surfers "Paradise", Queensland

I think we've all had days on which we've been disappointed. For Dave, it was the day The A-Team got cancelled. I was particularly gutted when I found out Father Christmas wasn't real. Fi was super down when Ross Kemp left EastEnders, Hannah has never gotten over the end of My So-Called Life and Woodie is devo'd everytime Fi turns on the TV to watch Kendra. So we've all had our fair share.

What does this have to do with anything? Well, my next stop after Byron Bay was Surfers Paradise on the Gold Coast, in which I'd only planned to spend one night just to check it out, look around and relax. On the bus there the driver announces, as we enter Queensland from New South Wales, that Castlemaine XXXX beer is absolutelythebee'skneesandeveryonedrinksithere. Great. When the most noticeable thing about somewhere is the type of (shit) beer drunk in the region, you know you're not on to a winner. (Side note: I was trying to think about what drink the UK could be described as/famous for and I've settled for a Blue WKD or, if you're feeling flush, a Cheeky Vimto).

I'd also been told by numerous people that Surfer's Paradise is "totally like Miami or Vegas".

Well, I've been to both, and it's NOTHING like either. NOTHING. It's more like Blackpool. In fact, it's less fun than Blackpool, because when you go there you can at least have a possible brush with death.

I yawned at the skyline


Rolled my eyes at the beach


But I loved this


The thing that was starting to occur to me about Australia is how - and I don't mean this unkindly - prehistoric it all seems. It's just not advanced in the way we take for granted at home, whether that means the internet, the buildings, the general culture... there's just very little of anything. For instance, if you go into a book or music store, there is a) hardly any local material and b) the stuff from elsewhere is thin on the ground and hugely overpriced. I don't really understand why, but I did a little research and it looks like Surfers has only been an actual town for the past 80-odd years. 80 years. That's NOTHING. That means when my Nana was born, it didn't even exist. It's made me look at England's history and culture in a completely different way. Not that I'm using my Nana as the benchmark for whether a culture is old or new, but you catch my drift. (Side note: She is awesome though. I think she's like 85 but doesn't look it at all. She's super classy, had a cat called Piglet - best cat name ever - and loves horror movies. I love her.)

So... as you can tell by now, I was a bit disappointed with Surfers Paradise. It was grey, concrete and tacky. It was also raining heavily, so I put on my awesome little flowery rain mac (thanks mum!) and went for a quick walk. This is when disappointment #2 came in... I'd swapped some music with someone in my room and was really looking forward to listening to Adele's first album, given her second was so good. Guess what? It was rubbish.

Toodles
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The Mile-o-meter #3

It's August 16th and I am truly overwhelmed by how much I've seen and done in three months. Let's have a look at how far I've travelled...

Manchester to London: 200 (all figures are approximate - well, according to Google Maps)
London to New York: 3,400
New York to Baltimore: 185
Baltimore to Miami: 1,200
Miami to Charlotte: 750
Charlotte to Los Angeles: 2,450
Los Angeles to Seattle: 1,140
Seattle to Summerland, Canada: 330
Summerland to Whistler: 300
Whistler to Vancouver: 80
Vancouver to Seattle: 155
Seattle to Los Angeles: 1,140
Los Angeles to San Diego: 120
San Diego to Las Vegas: 320
Las Vegas to Los Angeles: 270
Los Angeles to Santa Barbara: 100
Santa Barbara to San Francisco: 325
Total: 12,465 miles
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San Francisco to Oakland and back: 32
San Francisco to Los Angeles: 344
Los Angeles to Sydney: 7,500
Sydney to Byron Bay: 450
Byron Bay to Surfers Paradise: 56
Surfers Paradise to Brisbane: 50
Brisbane to Noosa: 87
---
Noosa to Fraser Island and back: Approx. 120 miles
Noosa to Rainbow Beach: 86
Rainbow Beach to 1770: 224
1770 to Airlie Beach: 439
Airlie Beach to Townsville: 171
Townsville to Magnetic Island and back: 10
Townsville to Mission Beach: 149
Mission Beach to Cairns: 86
Cairns to Sydney (by air): 1,512
Sydney to Denpasar, Bali: 2,873
Denpasar to Singapore: 1,050
Singapore to Kuala Lumpur: 191

Total: 27,895 miles

I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

Toodles (yawn)
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