aggienaut | Entries tagged with brisbane

Thanksgiving
   So last Thursday was Thanksgiving. These heathens over here apparently don't have a made up story alleging their early religious nutjobs got along fine with the natives like we do, so they don't celebrate Thanksgiving. And they complain there's too many bush turkeys running around messing up their gardens but for some reason refuse to eat them.

   Thinking about Thanksgiving, and how determined I was to celebrate it, I realized, you know, Thanksgiving really is a pretty important holiday. I mean, after Christmas, it's probably the most important holiday to most Americans -- people fly across the country to be with family, hardly anyone truly bah-humbugs it and doesn't do a thing for it.
   And its not about that silly myth and pilgrims and Indians, and you know what, I don't mean to alarm you, but I don't see it as generally about "giving thanks" either (When my dear grandmother was still about, we did use to go around the table and say things we were thankful for though). but really I think it's about family. And devouring huge amounts of food. And I think part of it is just tradition for tradition's sake (Why turkey? Because that's what you goddamn eat on thanksgiving!)

   So I was determined to have thanksgiving. And not just an extra helping microwavable food. But not only that, I needed to be with other people for whom it actually meant something.

   Fast forward to Thanksgiving Thursday ... and well I failed on all those accounts, I had a steak and prawns with my Indian roommate (who didn't eat and looked bored) at the local tavern/restaurant.
   But... going back again:

   Heretofore I had had no interest in joining any group of Americans in the area -- why would I do that? But now I had to find some Americans. This led me to the "Americans in Queensland" facebook group, which was apparently putting together a huge thanksgiving bash in Brisbane on that Saturday. I just needed to get there!
   My totally-hasn't-done-anything-not-awesome-yet boss gave me Saturday off without hesitation so that part was easy. But flights out of Bundaberg were $300-$400 each way. The train didn't have any evening departures so I'd either have to miss half of work on Friday or only get to thanksgiving at 3pm (it started at noon). This being only my second week of work here I didn't want to push my luck trying to get off on Friday as well as Saturday so neither of these options looked promising. I looked at car rentals, (its only a four hour drive), but all the rental places closed at 5 on Friday and noon on Sunday, so I still couldn't get a car without leaving work early and I'd have a pickle returning it. Don't people rent cars on weekends here?????
   It was looking like it might be unfeasible ... but then I remembered Greyhound and found a 2340-0605 overnight bus! My roommate was happy to volunteer to drop me off in Bundaberg and pick me up when I got back, so everything was sorted!

   Thanksgiving day itself, as I mentioned, I went out with my roommate. In the thanksgiving spirit I resolved to invite him out and buy him dinner, even if I'd been a bit annoyed with him lately for a various things (he's very nice personally, but there's... various things). As mentioned, he thwarted my plan by declining to order anything (I think he only likes indian food, which he spends hours making every evening), but I was a bit surprised and grateful that he at least came out.
   Had my steak and prawns to the accompanyment of a kookaburra chortling away in a nearby tree (was out on the patio). Got my turkey quotient in by having a glass of Wild Turkey with my meal ;)

Bundaberg
   Friday aafternoon I had plenty of time to kill before my 11:40pm flight, but as Sam got home shortly after 5 and immediately cracked open a beer it occurred to me that at the rate he drinks every night, I should probably get into town early before he gets himself wasted.
   Fortunately, he had plans in "the city" as well so we ended up heading in pretty early, like 7ish.
   Now there's about three bars downtown that I've found. I know there's at least one more around a corner on the outskirts and I'm sure there's one or two I haven't found yet. And of course there's no coffee shops or anywhere else to hang out. Unfortunately, one of the bars had a live band that seemed to attract all the long-grey-haired old biker dudes, the other oen turned into a dance club early in the night, and the other, I don't know, thought it was a dance club even though no one was in there -- blasting dance music and with multicoloured lights flashing and swirling ... not a chill place to hang out.
   But I had a book with me and sat on a park bench to read. Now, Bundaberg is... well... an agricultural town. Out in the farmland ..... so basically its got a lot of sort of red-neck people (called "bogans" here). And it turns out they all think it's very odd for someone to be reading on a Friday night -- I had a lot of drunk people come ask me what I was doing and why.
   And one drunk girl informed me I gave her hope for humanity.
   Finally it was time to catch the bus and one very uncomfortable night's sleep later...

...I was in BRISVEGAS!!!

   I checked into the YHA Hostel, which turned out to be infinitely nicer than the "Base Central" hostel I had stayed in when I first got into town. Unfortunately they couldn't give me a room until 14:00 (8 hours later!) but I could put my stuff down in luggage storage there and hang out in the lounge.

   The Thanksgiving was a potluck, and it had been unfeasible for me to bring any food (plus I have zero cooking skills), but I went to the grocery store and stocked up on as much non-martinellis sparkling apple juice as I could carry (as they event, being held at a church, would be a no alcohol event, and anyway martinellis sparkling apple juice has always been a staple of my family's thanksgivings).
   My fellow Americans had already proven very friendly, a few had offered me places to stay (but I chose the hostel so I could, you know, carouse the town without disturbing a family), and one of them gave me a ride to the suburb of Wondai where the event was taking place.

Thanksgiving was fun. There were, I don't know, 80 of us? Mostly families. People had managed to get their hands on yams and/or sweet potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, pretty much everything. Including, of course, turkeys. And an amazing turkey shaped chocolate cake!

(That's right, that "turkey" pictured above the above is actually a chocolate cake!!)

I wish I had pictures but at the time my camera batteries were both dead. ):

Back at the hostel I met two of my three roommates (the third was there but had his headphones on and never said anytihng). One was a young Belgian fellow who is an airline pilot for the Luxembourg national carrier, here for two weeks of vacation. He excitedly told me about the little sailboat he and his friends had fixed up and sail up and down the nearby lakes in Belgium. He also enjoys flying gliders in his free time (much like

nibot).
The other fellow (Mick) looked to be in his 40s, and turns out to live just the next town over from me! (In Bagera). Apparently he's been drinking heavily every day since his wife died (which I think was years ago now?), and travels because he gets too lonely at home now.
Had a pleasant evening sitting on the rooftop patio with Mick and an Irish guy and a British guy drinking and talking.

Sunday I went down to Southbank to stroll about, and perhaps gets some delicious food. Ended up getting not one of the delicious sounding burgers described in that link but took a chance on some Mexican food and paid $27 for a C- burrito and B- margarita.

   Southbank also has the above-pictured fake beach. Man, I hadn't thought of it when I was trying desperately to come up with ways to stay in Brisbane, but I should have applied as a lifeguard there, I bet they all get like $30 an hour (vs the $7.25 I was getting for it back in ancient times), and what other applicants can say they've made 98 rescues (100% true fact. Was bitter I didn't make 100). Though on the down side, I didn't think lifeguard uniforms could get worse than the skimpy red shorts I had to wear in high school, but their lifeguards look like they work in mcdonalds!!

   One other thing I have to mention is that christmas decorations are going up now. In the states there's always a bit of eyerolling about how stores literally start rolling christmas stuff out by the end of the day thanksgiving (if they were open), just as thanksgiving preparation begin at 3pm Oct 31st or so -- well Australians don't take any notice of thanksgiving but strangely the rolling out of x-mas decorations still seems to have coincided closely with Thanksgiving.
   There was a big sign in southbank which declared "Sugarplums and Possum Chums: a Southbank Christmas." I find this very amusing. And I believe that is a giant Australian possum pulling Santa's sleigh in the picture!! (see also: I've always had an extreme fondness for our American (O)possums.)

Return Trip
   All too soon it was time to depart dear Brisbane. For the return I caught a train. Traveling from 1655 to 2130, it would be faster than the bus, more comfortable AND cheaper!
   Arriving in Bundaberg I called my roommate... who informed me he was far too drunk. Coming from him this is impressive, since I see him regularly go drive somewhere while in a condition I'd call trashed. I'm also very grateful he didn't think he was sober enough to drive when he wasn't. And thirdly I suppose this solidly falls into the category of I really should have seen this coming.
   And so I had to take a taxi for the 20km from Bundaberg to Moorepark. Yeah that's $53 I could have used better ... (for example had two more C- burritos?) ::Sigh:: Next time I'm definitely just driving to Bundaberg -- even if I have to pay for parking it won't be $53 for a weekend ... I don't think.

The end!

( All the pictures )

A typical Brisbane street scene ;)

   So 9 germans, 2 frenchmen, and a finn walk into a room... Its not a joke, its the party we had here on Saturday night. But before we get there let me start earlier in the day.

   Saturday morning the two Brazilians lads who are moving in. They're taking the room the Turk was in, and the Turk will be on the couch for about a week before moving somewhere else. The Brazilians (Salvadore & Luann) seem really nice.
   An alarming controversy developed, however, when the Turk informed me that _I_ had to give MY key to one of the Brazilians. As bizarre as this sounded, he got the landlord on the phone, who informed me that yes, Eric (aka Taiwan, whose room I took) shouldn't have had the key in the first place and/or shouldn't have given it to me. Meanwhile, the Turk for some reason had two keys, of which he gave one to one of the Brazilians and the other to one of the girls who's already been living here (keylessly, apparently). Why he was sitting on two keys but couldn't be bothered to give them both to the guys who inherited his room I can't imagine, though I began to suspect, to use terminology from last entry, that he might, perhaps, be a dick.
   Eric is allegedly pretty well to blame for it as well I guess, and I haven't talked to him about it yet, but it's hard for me to think so ill of him, I had a very favorable opinion of the fellow.

   Well I was hungry, and our toaster wasn't working, and it was a lovely day out, so I was itching to get out. So I asked the Brazilians permission to take my key with me and went out. Paid $9 for an unsatisfactory amount of food, as usual, and did some errands.
   Then I run into the two Brazilians again at a food court, ordering some food from McDonalds. They try to talk me into getting something but I find I have an almost religious aversion to partaking of McDonalds. If I try to seriously envision McDonalds food traveling into my stomach I start to feel sick. To me, it simply is not food. Go ahead and call this a first world problem.
   While talking to them three more Brazilians one of them knows show up, and introductions are made. Amid the "oh you're Brazilian too?"s exchanged between them I have to admit to being only half Brazilian ;) (my dad was born there).
   Salvador and Luann also invite me to go to the Sunshine Coast beaches north of Brisbane with them on the morrow (Sunday).
   I then accompanied the Brazilians on a few more errands about town and as we were returning to the apartment building we ran into The Frenchman, also on the return.
   The Brazilians set about thoroughly cleaning the apartment (it had recently suddenly fallen into an extreme state of untidiness, I'm not sure why. All of a sudden the sinks, previously always clear of dirty dishes, were completely full with every dish dirty overnight). As evening wore on I found myself left alone in the apartment, the Frenchman having departed with my key (someone else having departed with his?)... and when fireworks began to go off from somewhere very nearby (It's "Brisbane Festival" this week, whatever that means) that I couldn't see unless I left the building, I experienced the first inconvenience of not being able to leave for not having a key and no one to let me back in to the building. ):
   Presently people began to drift back in. The Frenchman had advised us that he was throwing a party at our place, to which we should expect "5 german girls, 3 french girls, and 2 guys" or some such pipe dream of a ratio.
   Needless to say, he finally returned, leading like a pied piper a line of no less than 9 German guys, 1 other French guy, 1 German girl, and 1 Finnish girl. You may notice "Australians" never are mentioned. I'm not sure I've met any yet. Well there was this one Aboriginal... but they probably weren't a citizen either. Ohohohohoho I kid I kid, they totally gave the aboriginals some rights in 1973 (and ceased counting them as "chattel" in the census. For reals.)
   They quickly broke out several silvery bags of "goon." What we in college in California called "space wine" -- basically the bag of wine from "box wine" liberated from the box. If you google "goon (drink)" you get this insight as the first result: "What is GOON? Most people in Australia know it, most backpackers drink it almost daily..." "Backpackers" themselves being the ubiquitous swarms of itinerate hostel-dwelling 20-somethings here from all over the world looking for work, hoping to make a fortune before they have to return to some backwater like say "Germany," or "England" (Americans seem to have remained oblivious to the fact that there's a modern-day gold rush on over here).
   Cards also soon appeared in the other Frenchman (Zeek)'s hand and drinking games were commenced. They played several that I was entirely unfamiliar with, and then we settled on that great staple of drinking games -- King's Cup. Apparently they play it all around the world!
   Everyone seemed generally aware of it anyway, but they seemed to have trouble with some of the rules (like "make a rhyme" .. what's complicated about that? apparently something!). As with the previous drinking games, whenever anyone had drinks to assign, they usually went to Matt, the Frenchman who lives here. I'm not sure if it was due to a German-French rivalry or just because he was the host. He also played exclusively music with French lyrics, which one of the Germans complained about a bit.
   Eventually the group decided to trek on down to the clubs in Fortitude Valley (about a 20 min walk from here), so we all headed out (but not before the Frenchman Zeek passed out and was left behind on the Frenchman Matt's bed. Said bed was puked on at the last party and I had high expectations Matt would be 2 for 2 on that)
   I had fun at the clubs, which, I'm not a big dancer, but when you're with a fairly big group of fairly drunk people it's easy to have fun. And, as there wasn't a cover, I managed to bleed out no money at all all night!
   We slowly lost people until by the time we got back to our apartment around 4:00 it was just me, the Frenchman, and a german guy and girl (whom I think were secretly in love). The Frenchman had high hopes of making some pasta and then everyone going down to the hot tub, but escaped to bed as soon as we were in the door. The Brazilians were going to wake me at 0700 for the beach afterall. Also, it appeared that Zeek had disappointingly neglected to evacuate his stomach onto Matt's bed. ):

   I remember waking up intermittently around 7 and anticipating dragging myself out of bed, but Brazilians never showed up. When I finally rousted myself around 11 I found only Luann presently. He informed me "I don't know, our friends told us to wait for them, but next thing I knew Salvatore had departed by himself for the beach, he's crazy!" (see also, the beach is an hour or two from here).
   Also, surveying the apartment the Brazilians had so painstakingly cleaned the other day, it was now in the condition you'd expect it to be after a large party -- including a bunch of pots with hours-old pasta solidifying in them.

   Escaping the apartment to wander about downtown (as usual it was a beautiful day), I happened upon a place offering "Sunday roast" and a beer for $5. $5!! I had to ask the server to repeat this in several different phrasings before I believed such a good deal could possibly be true. I think I have a new Sunday tradition!! It was quite tasty.

   While writing this, the Frenchman (who I must say did a good job of cleaning up the party wreckage) asked to borrow my key. I'd been pleasantly surprised I hadn't been relieved of it yet, but in asking him where HIS key was he said he'd given it to the Brazilians. So I have no idea what kind of weird musical keys we're playing here. Right now I'd like to go down and swim...... but I need a key to do that. I must say this key debacle has been really irritating (and they can't be copied, they're not keys at all but little electronic signal-y things) and somewhat dampened my enthusiasm for living in this apartment.