It's been over seven months since I wrote a real travel blog, and I'm woefully behind. I apologize for my lack o' writing. I'd like to blame it on something like work or volunteering at the SPCA or some shit, but it wouldn't be true. I'm just lazy. That shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone, but still. It is kind of funny that I ended the last blog saying it'll be "six months or some shit" until the next one. I know myself better than I thought, apparently.
Anyway, I'm currently sitting in a plush hotel bar in Panama City, and I'm going to do my best to catch up. By my calculation, I'm only five trips behind. Maybe six? Aw shit, this is gonna take a while. Buckle up shitbirds, let's roll.
The last place I left off was in Hawaii, where I was about to depart for Australia. I explained the wheres and whys in the last post, so I'll just get into it. After a 10 hour flight to Sydney where I hit up the flight attendant for so many beers that she eventually just stopped coming when I hit the call button, I took a shuttle to my hotel...right across the street from the red light district. Okay, sure.
I've never seen rain like I saw in Sydney. I live in Vancouver, a place where it rains a lot, and Sydney blew it away. It came down like a waterfall for 13 hours straight, and it was so windy that umbrellas were useless. I witnessed this from the comfort of the hotel bar of course, because I wasn't fucking with that on day one. I'm not stupid (shut up, I'm not!)
The next few days were dry though, and I got a lot of Sydney exploring done. It's got some quirks - three packs of beer, pubs being called "hotels", lots of loud drunks playing the bar slots (pokies), etc. One drunk guy was being asked to leave a bar and responded by yelling "you're gonna need an ambulance to get me outta here!" Magically it only took a big dude and threats of barring him for life. Go figure.
Another guy on the street confused the hell out of me by yelling that he knew who I was. I was wearing a Ray Lewis jersey and jeans, looking pretty North American. He was pretty Australian. He said he knew who I was about four times before I finally asked how. He yelled "you're number 52!" and walked away. At that point, I was considering the idea that almost everyone in Australia was retarded. I'm still not sure.
That wasn't the only Ray Lewis interaction I had either - I had at least three other people come up to me during my trip and ask if he's "the football player that murdered that guy". Yes, yes he was.
My time in Sydney was pretty entertaining - I saw the sights and spent too much money on nine dollar beers. But it was time to head down to Melbourne to meet up with my high school buddy Rob.
Rob (or Piker, if you prefer) lives in Tasmania (I explained all of this seven months ago in my last blog, duh) but came over so we could go to an AFL game at the Melbourne Cricket Ground, or McG, a world-famous stadium that seats 100,000 people.
He also showed up as sick as a feral dog, but toughed it out.
We went to the game, and it was one of the best sporting experiences of my life. It was a playoff game, which just added to the atmosphere. The Hawthorn Hawks were playing against the Geelong Cats. I knew nothing about the AFL going in, but the atmosphere was amazing. And Geelong usually owned Hawthorn, beating them a bunch of times in a row before this night.
We were sitting in the Hawthorn section, which I didn't really understand at first and it could have potentially got me killed. See, I'm a hockey fan. A Canucks fan, to be specific. And as a Canucks fan, one of the teams I hate the most is the Chicago Blackhawks. In fact, Rob and I were talking hockey, and I loudly blurted out "FUCK THE HAWKS!". Right away, everyone in the section was staring at me with hate in their hearts. I had no idea why until Piker cleared it up for me.
"Man, we're in the Hawks section! Don't say that!"
Unintentional near-death experiences at their finest.
I actually decided to become a (Hawthorn) Hawks fan after that because it was funny, and they were the underdogs. They ended up winning a very exciting game, and after Rob explained the rules I really got into it. To the point that I bought a Hawks toque and still follow the AFL at home to this day.
The rest of our time in Melbourne was great - Fitzroy Gardens is super nice, St. Kilda is awesome (we got a gigantic three-foot jug of beer but I forgot to take a picture - Go Tim), and the trams are extremely efficient. I understand why it's constantly listed as one of the most liveable cities in the world.
Our last night there was amusing as well. We could have gone to an NRL (rugby) game, but decided to hit a pub and watch the other AFL semi-final instead. There's a Canadian player on one of the teams and when he scored a try, both of us stood up and started singing O Canada in unison. Loud. Until we were mercilessly booed and someone stole my hat and threw it across the bar. Fucking Aussies, no sense of humor.
In the next edition, I'll get around to me hating sand in Gold Coast and animals stealing the souls of children in Tasmania.
Anyway, I'm currently sitting in a plush hotel bar in Panama City, and I'm going to do my best to catch up. By my calculation, I'm only five trips behind. Maybe six? Aw shit, this is gonna take a while. Buckle up shitbirds, let's roll.
The last place I left off was in Hawaii, where I was about to depart for Australia. I explained the wheres and whys in the last post, so I'll just get into it. After a 10 hour flight to Sydney where I hit up the flight attendant for so many beers that she eventually just stopped coming when I hit the call button, I took a shuttle to my hotel...right across the street from the red light district. Okay, sure.
I've never seen rain like I saw in Sydney. I live in Vancouver, a place where it rains a lot, and Sydney blew it away. It came down like a waterfall for 13 hours straight, and it was so windy that umbrellas were useless. I witnessed this from the comfort of the hotel bar of course, because I wasn't fucking with that on day one. I'm not stupid (shut up, I'm not!)
The next few days were dry though, and I got a lot of Sydney exploring done. It's got some quirks - three packs of beer, pubs being called "hotels", lots of loud drunks playing the bar slots (pokies), etc. One drunk guy was being asked to leave a bar and responded by yelling "you're gonna need an ambulance to get me outta here!" Magically it only took a big dude and threats of barring him for life. Go figure.
Another guy on the street confused the hell out of me by yelling that he knew who I was. I was wearing a Ray Lewis jersey and jeans, looking pretty North American. He was pretty Australian. He said he knew who I was about four times before I finally asked how. He yelled "you're number 52!" and walked away. At that point, I was considering the idea that almost everyone in Australia was retarded. I'm still not sure.
That wasn't the only Ray Lewis interaction I had either - I had at least three other people come up to me during my trip and ask if he's "the football player that murdered that guy". Yes, yes he was.
My time in Sydney was pretty entertaining - I saw the sights and spent too much money on nine dollar beers. But it was time to head down to Melbourne to meet up with my high school buddy Rob.
Rob (or Piker, if you prefer) lives in Tasmania (I explained all of this seven months ago in my last blog, duh) but came over so we could go to an AFL game at the Melbourne Cricket Ground, or McG, a world-famous stadium that seats 100,000 people.
He also showed up as sick as a feral dog, but toughed it out.
We went to the game, and it was one of the best sporting experiences of my life. It was a playoff game, which just added to the atmosphere. The Hawthorn Hawks were playing against the Geelong Cats. I knew nothing about the AFL going in, but the atmosphere was amazing. And Geelong usually owned Hawthorn, beating them a bunch of times in a row before this night.
We were sitting in the Hawthorn section, which I didn't really understand at first and it could have potentially got me killed. See, I'm a hockey fan. A Canucks fan, to be specific. And as a Canucks fan, one of the teams I hate the most is the Chicago Blackhawks. In fact, Rob and I were talking hockey, and I loudly blurted out "FUCK THE HAWKS!". Right away, everyone in the section was staring at me with hate in their hearts. I had no idea why until Piker cleared it up for me.
"Man, we're in the Hawks section! Don't say that!"
Unintentional near-death experiences at their finest.
I actually decided to become a (Hawthorn) Hawks fan after that because it was funny, and they were the underdogs. They ended up winning a very exciting game, and after Rob explained the rules I really got into it. To the point that I bought a Hawks toque and still follow the AFL at home to this day.
The rest of our time in Melbourne was great - Fitzroy Gardens is super nice, St. Kilda is awesome (we got a gigantic three-foot jug of beer but I forgot to take a picture - Go Tim), and the trams are extremely efficient. I understand why it's constantly listed as one of the most liveable cities in the world.
Our last night there was amusing as well. We could have gone to an NRL (rugby) game, but decided to hit a pub and watch the other AFL semi-final instead. There's a Canadian player on one of the teams and when he scored a try, both of us stood up and started singing O Canada in unison. Loud. Until we were mercilessly booed and someone stole my hat and threw it across the bar. Fucking Aussies, no sense of humor.
In the next edition, I'll get around to me hating sand in Gold Coast and animals stealing the souls of children in Tasmania.
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