Scouting for Sea Cucumbers

Well, we made it to Cairns... this may not surprise you so much, however those of you again who have flown with me before, will know that I am continuously surprised that every plane I am on does not drop out of the sky, and am always grateful for my life when I step off the other side. (I also have a desire to strangle anyone who dares to use electronic equipment or mobile phones during take off or landing, as they clearly tell you not to for a reason. Why should we all risk death because you want to send a text message NOW?) Anyway, we phoned our shuttle from the airport, which arrived after some interesting directions (go left outside to the public pick up area... oh my other left?! Silly me!) We walked out into the carpark in time to be hit with torrential rain... good good, it had followed us again, and it wasn't long before Simon from Devon picked us up in a minibus and took us back to our hostel.

The staff were lovely - it was a good start. Simon carried both of our backpacks at once (also good) while taking us on a tour, we walked past the bathroom and saw there was a clean shower, a clean toilet, a clean room, with a fridge, a fan, and an air conditioner, and best of all NO BUNKBEDS. We were very excited, and booked ourselves onto the traditional Wednesday 'Aussie Night' BBQ, putting our quibbles with Australia behind, and embracing an evening of entertainment. This included a sample of croc meat (tastes like chicken - honestly, not just saying it), kangaroo meat (this is weird and does not taste anything like chicken, or anything else for that matter), and a prize draw for a horseriding/quadbiking trek which lead to 3 people being put into a didgeridoo competition.
 Now we were particularly gutted we did not get drawn out for this (well I was...), as we would have bloody rocked that didgeridoo! The guy even gave lessons (he was a bit crap, and there were molto blow job jokes... he was Irish...) but given we have a little background knowledge in the old wind instrument stakes we even knew the proper names for his techniques, and didn't even need the sexual references to put them into action. I guess however, it was for the best that we did not get pulled out of this draw, because it seems that most of the entertainment is in the watching people unable to play anything on the didgeridoo cope, while the guy pretends it's a big black cock and shoves it in their face. We would have just been the smartarses that managed to play a tune and ruin everyone's fun. (And while I'm ruining the fun, I might add that it's foolish to describe a didgeridoo as being different to every other wind instrument when you've clearly never played another wind instrument. 'You don't blow at the didgeridoo like other instruments, you vibrate your lips - it's not like a trumpet or a trombone...' You tit. Nevertheless, it was funny watching these poor sods attempt to 'play' it. The first girl was English. We were rooting for her of course, she came second on account that she couldn't quite get the lip vibrations right (yes, you can imagine the comments). The second was German. She came third having tried hard, but infact been fairly useless; and the last, was an American-born Chinese guy, who happened to be gay. He came first, basically because the guy took the piss out of him much more than the other two... I'm guessing he plumped for the horse riding over the quadbiking... oh look at me and my witty stereotyping!
 So with the falic (we've had a debate about the spelling, not sure if that's right) instruments out of the way we settled down to enjoy the 'fireshow'. This was pretty cool, even though the middle woman was a bit scary with her renditions of Pink's 'Rockstar' and 'The Female of the Species'. The first girl's music was a little more gentle, and I felt less like she was going to hurl the fire at someone in a mad rage. The guy was just cool - there's something about firetwirling - it's very masculine... sadly, when he was not handling the fire, it appeared he was more likely to be handling men than women. Anyway. We got to have a go with the firetwirling later on - alas not with the fire, just with balls (maybe that's the attraction! Ha! Look at me - I'm on fire this evening! (there I go again). Sorry, I know it's terrible. I've stopped, and I'm seeking help.) We got tutored by the guys who had performed, and then this old geezer showed up too. He looked a bit like Frank Butcher, but clearly must have trained the 3 of them. He was like some sort of Jedi master, and certainly didn't take any crap. While the 3 of them were trying to be nice, getting us spinning our balls, crossing them over, and weaving them in and out (which inevitably resulted in several smacks on the head, and in the crotch (wwooooooah, your sex is on fire.)) He was coming round making us very nervous, and shouting at us for hitting ourselves. Christ mate, it's only a bit of fun. (Actually, I should cut him some slack. I imagine if I was forced to teach the saxophone to 25 of the most unmusical, slightly pissed, game-for-a-laugh adults, I would be rather similar. Do it properly or don't do it at all. That's the kind of fun-loving girl I am... and why I am on holiday.



So anyway, having practiced setting ourselves on fire several times, they doused the balls in petrol, and let us try for real. Loz and I were so good we ran off and joined the circus, and won't be seeing you for a while longer. Sorry. I'm on a 14 hour train journey from Brisbane to Sydney, having only had 3 hours sleep. We're only half way, and delerium has set in. I'm making my own entertainment for the next 7 hours, so if I laugh at my crap puns, then that's enough for me.
 We headed to bed not long after, and did a little bit of skyping. We were sat, toasty and happy in our small but brightly-coloured room, until Loz spotted something. I've lost patience with insects now. We're far from the days of standing on the beds in Kuala Lumpur (not least cos we'd already broken both beds here, just by sitting on them), and had I have found it the little blighter, it would have been seeing the bottom of my shoe pretty damned quickly. We went through all our stuff - which of course was all over the floor (or mine was, Loz is much tidier) in the area where said bug had been spotted. Nothing. I decided it was hiding under the fridge, but I really couldn't be bothered to pull the whole thing out, so it could stay there, under the threat that if it even dared poke one of its antennae out, it would be dead. We were however beginning to think Australia was pulling itself round a bit - much to our relief - and were looking forward to the trip to the reef the next morning.


Having power-walked to the jetty (which was a good 20 minutes away... not the 10 that had been suggested, by the guy who's directions had sent us the wrong way at the airport). We asked for more directions, and were sent to wait by our boat. It was getting disturblingly close to 7.45, when the boat was due to depart, yet there was no activity at all near the boat. Well, Aussies are pretty laid back I guess. Perhaps 2 mins is enough to prep a boat. We thought we'd better check. Another guy told us the same company had another boat round the corner. We legged it, hoping we hadn't missed it, only to find some girls with a checklist, saying, 'Sorry girls the boat's not going out today, didn't you get the phone call?' 'Oh yes love, we got the phone call. Getting up at 6 after a late-night cockroach search, has just become sport, so we thought we'd pop down anyway.' Goddamit Australia. Not only that, but they couldn't find us on the booking sheet. We were very annoyed. We then did another 20 minute grumpy walk down to the office, where we waited for a girl to tell us what the hell was going on.


Loz, my lovely travel partner (not life partner, I make this very clear distinction), is very much a calming influence on me. She is always nice to people, whether they deserve it or not. I have been trying to be better in this respect, because I don't believe I'm actually an angry or unpleasant person. I'm lovely. I'm just surrounded by idiots who make me angry on a regular basis. But hey, you don't choose your IQ right? I should just be nicer to them, as being angry isn't good for anyone now is it? How about that for an epiphany? I'm not sure it trumps ice-cream to be honest. Anyway, as I'm trying to get away from being ready to kill someone in an instance for being incompetent, I let Loz handle this one. We were assured that a boat would definitely go tomorrow, and that we were now definitely on the list and that we'd been upgraded. The girl was nice enough, and she's moving to the UK next month - I don't blame her... although it was Chingford I think she said. I also think she was having a bad week, and was surrounded by idiots too. I felt her pain.


We now had a day to kill. I found a lovely FREE outdoor swimming pool on the Esplanade. Something for free in Australia that doesn't crawl across your face in the middle of the night - AMAZING. Very cool. Then we found a shopping centre - also cool, given the amount of holes in the back of my 'wrinkle free travel skirt/dress' (partially due to my elegance in bunk bed ascent (although I'd repared those), and partially due to my rucksack just rubbing holes in it.) I found a new, much nicer dress in the sale for about £13 (I know, a sale.). Loz found herself a cardigan. I (not for the first time) may have walked into a pharmacy, and applied a tester of foundation, concealer, blusher and lipstick, reminding myself that I can look human if I try, then we had some tea and went home.


Next morning we headed to the boat again... a little less fraught as we knew how long it would take this morning, and feeling slightly nervous in case the boat wasn't going and we had to get angry Cat out. No promblemo, the boat was loaded with more hot men than you could shake a sea cucumber at (I feel 'physically attractive' must be a condition of getting a holiday work-permit in Australia) and we were good to go. We got on board, were handed some flippers and a snorkel, and sat down to fill in our 'if I die, I waive my family's legal rights to sue you, even if you were negligent' forms. After this we were presented with a proper bacon and egg sandwich. Well done Australia. The first place that has managed to do bacon properly. (It's probably a fiver a slice, but well done Aus, it's an achievement for you). Unfortunately, given the very rough sea crossing, it wasn't long before I was presented with the same bacon sandwich, again, and again, until I'd had quite enough of bacon sandwiches for a while. I hasten to add, it wasn't just me who saw their breakfast again several times - half of the boat was out the back with sickbags. The sickness set a precident for the day for me unfortunately. The hour and a half boat trip to the reef was the worst I have ever experienced, and no amount of free homeopathic seasickness remedy was going to stop me. Fortunately, one Japanese guy had some real medicine which he took pity and gave me, and despite feeling like it couldn't be possible, I held onto lunch at least.


[Someone just actually used the word 'chillax' at a grumpy guy on the train- ha]


We arrived at the reef. Loz and I had been convinced by Charismatic Mick that we absolutely had to try scuba diving, because it was free to try, and we didn't have to pay to go on the big dive if we didn't want. Unsure, we had our names put on the list anyway, and it wasn't long before we were being weighted down and chucked over the side of the boat. I spent every second of the next 15 mins being absolutely convinced I was going to drown. I like to think of myself as quite a rational, logical person. I'm not generally of a nervous disposition, and firmly believe in mind over matter. All of this went straight out of the window as I clawed at the boat gasping for breath. I couldn't find a place to hold onto, and was sliding straight off again, only to be chucked back onto the side of the boat by the rough sea. They adjusted my boyancy, so I was supposed to feel less like drowning was imminent - I didn't - and I was then supposed to be taken under the water to practice my techniques that had been taught on the boat: how to get water out of my mask, how to get water out of my breathing equipment, and how to equalise my ears.


So while my poor, usually logical brain, was torn between thinking 'breathe, Cat, breathe - you're wearing oxygen. Yes it's water, but you're not going to die', and 'oh my god I'm going to die, what the hell is going on, I'm under water, I can't breathe', and also imagining the underwater scene from Baz Luhrmann's Romeo and Juliette, which Charismatic Mick was playing out rather well at this point (I suspect, that I was equally as attractive as Clare Danes in my one-strapped swimming costume, eyes wide with fear, and snorkel full of water - I will add, Loz had gone for a wetsuit and looked a right tit, so it could have been worse!) I think poor CharisMick may have had scratch marks in his arms by the time he deposited me on the bar under the back of the boat, only for me to clamber to the surface gasping for breath, spitting out salt water, and going 'oh my god, oh my god'. Not to be defeated, he gave it another crack and pulled me back down. I could not get this 'breathing under water doesn't necessarily mean death' thing into my head. This time I was under for a little bit longer, managed one of the techniques (the mask clearing - although to be honest, I still couldn't see very well, and I certainly was convinced I couldn't breathe). Then my flipper started falling off. Trying to remember what the sign language for problem was, I realised I didn't know the sign for flipper, so it was useless. I went for 'I OOOOS UMMIN OFFFF' which he didn't get. I tried again with a bit of pointing - he put it back on. Excellent. Oh yes, then I remembered again I couldn't breathe - back to the surface we go.


I had a third and a fourth attempt... clearly CharisMick had lost patience with my this time, so I was given to a guy called Shun as a special case. He was on the bars at the back of the boat - he'd also chosen to wear a wetsuit, so there was less of the Romeo and Juliette crap going on in my head - now it was pretty much just death. He tried to get me to take the breathing apparatus out (which I was clearly thrilled by), clear it, then put it back in. I sort of did it, but there was still water in it. Hence another trip back to the surface. Shun appeared as I was (gracefully, gracefully) gripping the boat with everything but my teeth. 'Another go?' Desperate to conquer my fear, because in my real brain I knew I wasn't dying, I gave it a crack. That was it though. When asked what was wrong, all I could manage was a pathetic school kid's 'I don't like it'. There was no way on earth I was going to be going on the proper dive. Pay $55 to feel like I was dying for another hour? It was lose, lose really. I got back on the boat to recover and waited for Loz - who had seemed to manage to get to grips with the whole breathing thing - it's not as if we've done it for 25 years or owt, and had been doing rather well. She'd even got a round of applause from CharisMick - bitch. Oh, hang on I lie - 2 rounds of applause she just added, rubbing it in my face. (We think they were possibly being sarcastic as she assures me she was probably just as crap as I was.)


Anyway, after my near death experience, I was a little concerned about the old snorkelling. In fact, I wasn't convinced I'd be able to do it. I'd managed to convince myself, despite the fact that actually I'm quite a strong swimmer (obviously not entering the olympics any time soon, though I can usually keep myself afloat, and swim a good distance) that perhaps I'd been kidding myself, and the sea was a completely different kettle of fish (ha) to Scartho Baths, and maybe I wasn't cut out for that sort of thing. Luckily though, the tight bitch inside my head reminded me how much I had paid to do this, and that I was wasting it if I didn't give it a try - I was glad of her. Snorkelling was cool. We saw some fish - rather unsurprisingly - and some coral, again... really though... it was incredible. We saw sharks, giant clams - all sorts, a 'Dory' fish and a 'Nemo' and the anenonenmoneee. Alas it wasn't the season for speaking to whales though, so we didn't bother. After a good snorkel round with our noodles (floatation device, I'd convinced us we needed, as I clearly couldn't swim - it got in the way a lot), we headed back to the boat as I was feeling like I was going to be sick again. The sea was still quite rough, and I'd swallowed a lot of saltwater which wasn't going down too well.


It is moments like this which for me clear up any doubt over the existence of a god. I have just (of course gracefully, because that's the girl I am) dragged myself out of the water, exhausted, to sit on the side of the boat for a rest. My hair is all over my face, dotted with bits of coral and seaweed. I have lines on my face where my snorkel has been, I'm desperate for the loo and I'm trying not to barf. Yes. This is the point in my life, where I should meet Fit Paul. Fit Paul is the boat's resident marine biologist, which makes him not only fit, but smart. He gets chatting to Loz and I - a conversation in which I have limited participation, given the fact that I can't stand up for fear of vomming, and can't hear out of one of my ears at all, and am partially deaf in another. (Please feel free to use this as an example in an RE essay - I feel it is a good argument for atheism if you are looking for one. From what I can hear, Fit Paul is both lovely and a fellow Brit, and we have a nice little chat, before we are called in for some lunch.)

It wasn't long before Fit Paul was coming round recruiting for his snorkel tour of the reef at the second site in the afternoon. Having discussed the merits of Fit Paul with Loz, I, being a bad person, felt we should both spend $20 to partake in the snorkel tour... for its educational merit. There was an element of show and tell, which I was particularly looking forward to. Me, being me, managed to slap suncream ALL over my face just before he got to us. I have to say, I sometimes also doubt the theory of evolution, because people like me would have died out a LONG time ago if it was so. (Feel free to use that in an essay, if you are looking for a pro-God argument.) Loz actually told me off for this, because apparently he was already there when I decided to slap the suncream all over my face, then looked up, looking like some sort of abominable snowwoman (I use that term loosely). She is a good friend. We have decided, I need to be sent to some sort of finishing school. There is a lot of work to be done. You see, my theory on this is - there is only one way a relationship can go after someone spent a morning watching you barf, you've bared your sunburnt arse at them in a swimming costume, and then shouted 'WHAT?' at them after every question they ask you for 10 minutes, before slapping a litre of suncream on your face and speaking to them without rubbing it in... and that is up! So! Call me!


After I'd finished committing relationship suicide - yet again. I tried to eat some lunch. It wasn't going down so well. It was nice, but unfortunately boats and me do not get on, so I only managed a little, despite being quite hungry after losing my breakfast several times earlier. Loz and I, after much discussion, decided to splash out (ha), on an underwater camera. It's a disposable, and having almost forgotten how to use one. I decided to try to find which button to press. (Now, don't mock me! It was more complicated than usual, as it had covers on and stuff for the underwater protection.) Eventually, I found the button and promptly took a picture of the ceiling. Loz came back from the loo just in time to make fun of me for this. I shusshed her - keen to not add 'thick as shit' to my list of top qualities. She was not laughing for long, as I put her in charge of the camera! She spent the whole snorkel winding the bloody thing the wrong way, so not taking any pictures, and wondering why it wouldn't work. I took the camera smugly back and took some incredible pics, only for Loz to scan the camera at the airport, probably wiping them all. (I did manage to take some (hopefully) good ones thank you, after I figured out what I was doing wrong!)


We had about a 20 minute trip to our next snorkelling site. As just sitting on the boat when its still causes me problems, I took up residency on the back of the boat. The sea was a bit calmer now, and only a few really sickly people were special needs enough to be there. I was a little surprised to be honest, after the vomming, the suncream, the burnt arse in the air, the deafness etc. that I had company. Bless him. We had a nice chat, and it turns out that Paul is not only fit and smart, but quite sweet too. Apparently force four winds like the ones today would make the average person sick you know! Much higher and they don't take the boats out. So there! No excuse for the arse or the suncream though... maybe he hadn't noticed!


Anyway, in the meantime, me Loz, Colin and his mum Audrey (who bless her could not swim, but was being towed around in a rubber ring by fit Paul... see! - Helps old ladies, I was onto a winner), headed out to the Reef for a look at some things which uneducated eyes may not have spotted. Now, being still deaf, in the roaring ocean, the informative little speeches were of relatively little consequence to me. I tried to nod intelligently in the right places - although establishing what these were with the use of only half an ear is a little tricky. I settled for having my head down, searching for sea cucumbers. We had been promised that if we were good we could handle a sea cucumber, but unfortunately the only one we came across was too deep for Paul to pick up.


We swam around for a bit, being showed various types of coral, and being smacked into by Colin (the least spacially aware swimmer ever, who flippered Loz in the face several times) and also by Audrey, who had no control over where she was going as she was being towed several metres behind Paul, who was darting around looking for things on the reef. The other thing that's tricky, is to stay in the same place in the water. Aside from dealing with your Colins and your Audreys, the waves have a nasty habit of chucking you about a bit too. Despite being told NOT to kick the coral, or to touch it, I managed to get knocked onto it, and it scratched my leg. It stung a bit, but Loz couldn't see anything, so I kept quiet, not wanting to be the muppet that killed the Great Barrier Reef. In my final act of grace for the day, I got knocked by Colin towards Paul, who was coming back up from the reef, and managed to headbutt him. Go me! (Call me!) (Loz just suggested she films me for a documentary, and acts as my 'carer'. Thanks Loz.) So at the end of the tour, being the good friend she is, Loz grassed me up to Paul for damaging his baby and told him I'd scratched my leg. (Only cos he scratched himself as well, and said he had to clean it in case it gets infected... see I do care, I didn't want you to die of infection!) He told me he kicked it all the time by accident and gave me some savlon. Aw. (I did have a brief moment too where I realised I was waiting like a small child for him to put it on my leg, before I figured I should be holding my hand out. Kill me.)


Loz and I headed back for a bit more snorkelling, before we gave up and tried to dry off. It was now I discovered, I was hideously burned. (Yay. Please add lobster to my list of endearing features.) There was cheese and wine, but there was no way that would have stayed down, so I assumed the position on the back of the boat with my sick bags yet again... and it wasn't long before I had company again. Wow, it really must be pity now right? That's pretty much all I'm getting. Anyway, I was brought biscuits, moved to a less sicky place, given an entertaining little dance... I even felt better! I could probably have moved inside... erm... nah! (Loz was even refered to as my friend, as opposed to my girlfriend! About bloody time.)


We were invited to the pub (not just us, it was an open invite from the crew. I convinced Loz she wanted to go. Obviously, there needed to be some showering and a trip to the pharmacy to borrow some tester make up first, but we were going. Unfortunately, my stomach had other ideas. It was still on the boat as far as it was concerned, and short of letting it embarass me again, I had no option other than to lie down... I crashed out in my wet clothes for 14 hours. This is why I am single.


I woke the next morning not giving a crap about anything. I felt terrible. My bum was so burned I could not sit down, my back had blistered again, and I still felt sick. I drank another rehydration sachet and sprayed myself down with aftersun. Loz was of course up and dressed, packing, as we were checking out in an hour. My stuff was wet, all over the place, and I was dirty and smelt of swamp. I was also still deaf, which really was driving me mental... not just because I couldn't hear or balance, but more because of the story one of the guy in Coffs Harbour told us. Apparently, one of his mates went swimming in the sea in India, then couldn't hear. After many courses of antibiotics, a doctor stuck some tweezers in his ear and pulled out a large mushroom which had been growing there. Nice. I hoped there were no mushrooms in my ears.


I had a shower, and somehow made it out of the room for check out - Loz trying to book all the stuff we needed to get to, and to stay in Brisbane cos I was a useless shell. After looking up home remedies for 'water in the ear', I tried hair drying my ears to evapourate the water. It didn't work. It just burnt my ears really. We had time to kill, so I forced myself to walk to the pharmacy for a solution. Luckily they had one in the form of drops, which smell a bit of vinegar. I asked how quickly they worked. They didn't know, however suggested I kept going every few hours. I was getting nervous, as we were flying in a few hours, and I was envisaging another Hong Kong to Auckland, nose-bleeding, head-imploding, 'would someone please remove my sinuses with a rusty spoon' flight. Wahooooo! They were instant, or at least the bad ear cleared completely. The other one hurts a bit, but so does my throat on that side, so I imagine that's something else as opposed to mushroom growth.


The flight was uneventful - mainly due to the fact we had to pay for TV again. Dammit Branson. Loz read, I slept. It's a pattern now really. We arrived in Brisbane, caught a taxi to our overpriced hotel (which again came with a free beetle thing - luckily dead this time - so we put a glass over it and left it for the cleaners) and we crashed out. We tried to book our train to Sydney for the next morning. It was Saturday night. Everything was closed, and their damned website wasn't having it. We were stuck in Brisbane. Great. Oh well, at least it meant a lie in.


We spent a fairly uneventful day watching rubbish films, and poor Australian soaps (Blue Heelers - check it out. Dreadful!) And yep, here we are. 1 1/2 hours left of our 14 hour epic journey to Sydney. I want my bed now please.