Schoolies for Toolies - Surfers Paradise 18 years on

You could put it down to a scheduling issue. Which, when you think about it, is quite embarrassing for a project manager.   But in my defence, I delegated the booking to my trusted lieutenant. I wasn't to know he would be bloody useless at it.

So this is how we found ourselves, 3 grown men, on the Gold Coast, at Surfers Paradise, bang at the start of schoolies week.  OK, further mitigation could be had that we are from the UK, and don't (didn't) have the foggiest idea what schoolies was.  My readers from the UK may want to Google it, then try and suppress your childish giggles. In town, with 30,000 schoolgirls, with our reputation!  (said in the manner of the Fast Show, aka Paul Whitehouse, just in case anybody reads that as a literal statement.)

When word got out at work, via my boss!, to the whole bank, via her boss, that I was off to schoolies, a week of constant piss taking followed.

Apparently, I would now be a toolie.  Somebody of an older generation who purposely goes to "observe" the (away from home for the first time) schoolies.  Have I got my hard hat? For unidentified flying objects being dispatched from windows.  It was even suggested, once I had explained what they were, that settees have been known to come out of the sky.  I said I'm not sure what helmets they sell but not sure any would save me from an errant flying settee!

Our, not so, salubrious lodgings!

Another theme was that I was going to be locked up.  For what, I could never really establish.  Tagged and having to remain at Mosman.  Deported.  Oh, I could go on.  That said, I did work out that it has been 18 years since I was last in Surfers Paradise, and most of the 30,000 schoolies hadn’t even been born then.

Yet, here I am, back in one piece, still a free man, without so much as a stain on my character.  And what a weekend it was.  Much better than I had actually anticipated, after all the hype about what carnage it would be.  As has happened before, I do wonder what a lot of Australian's frame of reference is.  Mine, for carnage, would be a night out around Liverpool or Newcastle (UK), where you could be lucky to get home in one piece.  Surfers, even for schoolies, was very tame by comparison.  Great fun, but tame all the same.

Being back in Sydney, and seeing some of the news headlines and coverage of it, I'm convinced it is all a result of media hype.  It is just a bunch of kids, being kids.  Letting off steam and enjoying some new found freedom.  And good luck to them I say.

Despite our weekend being very short, flying up straight from work on Friday, and back home on Sunday night, we had a great time and loads of laughs.  I'm not sure if some of the stuff, like random photos, was actually that funny, but it could have been the copious amounts of Guinness that lubricated the laughing gene.

What was funny was finding out about hidden desires to be a hairdresser.  A desire surely only let free as a result of the aforementioned alcohol.  I've asked the person involved never to admit this again to anybody.  Ever.  Yet, if you travel with him, the GHD straighteners and fancy hairdryer might just give the game away.

I think the world record for eating the most Twixes in one weekend was comfortably broken.  And they were all eaten by the same man.  Not me. 

I also met my very first ever people from Halifax...Nova Scotia in Canada.  Whilst whiling away a few hours, people watching in Kitty O'Shea's, we got talking to the barmaids, both of whom hail from Halifax.  And yet didn't know each other until they met at work in Surfers.  It just shows you how small the world is, and how we serendipitously meet people through our lives.  Fate, destiny, or just pure coincidence?  You decide.

Now we need to start thinking of where to take the tour next.  New Zealand and Bali are emerging as hot favourites, yet would need more than a flying visit.

We will keep thinking, but in the meantime, I am off to polish the bugle.  I could have a busy week ahead.

Who stole October?

Another month passes guys, and here we are in November.  As with each passing month now, it is my second of each since being here.  Arriving naive and wet behind the ears as an expat way back in August 2012.  This year seems to have particularly flown by, a fact brought sharply into focus when I think that I am in month 9 of my work contract.  Only 16 weeks left.  Then what?  Who knows.  Keeps me on my toes I guess, not really knowing what next year will bring.

October brought Halloween and all it’s associated commercial crassness.  Bah humbug you may be shouting at me, but to the childless amongst us, it definitely has less appeal,  So, no pumpkins at Cormack HQ and nothing scary perhaps apart from the fact that it is almost Xmas, ergo, I'm another year older.  Or is that younger.  Could I claim to be the new Benjamin Button?  

Something in my Twitter feed, claiming to be from Santa Claus, but I’m dubious it is really him, tells me that there are only 52 sleeps to Xmas.  That is a sobering thought.  I better get back to wok on that booze cupboard.  Following my last missive to you all I got asked whether the photo of all the booze I posted was just for Xmas morning!  Then again, that comment was from a dipsomaniac.

Following on from my great trip to Byron Bay recently, a couple of mates felt cheated that I went alone, as is my wont.  So, we have booked another trip, this time to Surfers Paradise on the Gold Coast.  In a couple of weeks we will be flying up there straight from work and having a weekend of debauchery.  And being poms, and completely unaware, we can even be excused for choosing a notoriously bad time to go and get end up getting labeled “toolies”.  Friends in the UK, it’s an Aussie thing.  Just Google “schoolies week”.

The month of October seems to have come and gone in a blur of very long work days and late party nights.  If there is one takeaway from the month it is probably that drinking shots is no good for you.  Yeah, you probably already knew this.  Drinking 101, right?  But as I live a less Bacchanalian, more austere lifestyle this was news to me and has contributed to a few hazy mornings and a dangerously depleted bank account.

These shenanigans are likely to continue this week as on Tuesday it is Melbourne Cup day.  Reputed to be the horse race that stops a nation.  Not being big on the nags I never really understood all the fuss, but the nation is obsessed with it so I go along for the ride.  I watched it last year and it was like a poor man's Grand National, *ducks from abuse from proud Aussies*.

Tuesday at approximately 3pm will see us watching the race at work, with wine and nibbles, before de-camping to a local hostelry of choice to continue the festivities.  People get really dressed up and it has been fascinating to listen to the girls at work talk about fascinators.  To the blokes amongst us, these are the funny little “pretend hat” type things that girls wear to the races.  And often seen at weddings.  That the girls will pay the prices they charge for some of these things is fascinating enough for me.

However, contrary to popular belief, it is not all party party party over here.  It's not one long continuous episode of Geordie Shore.  I do other things than just get "mortal".  Honestly.  It I do.  The ying to that yang is that I have pushed myself even harder in the gym to compensate for this decadent lifestyle.  It helps to have some friendly competition to motivate you so me and a mate complete on number of gym visits, to be able to proudly claim to be #mostrecentchampion.  And despite my recent best efforts, I still have to claim the title back.  

Could this be the week? 

Byron Bay...Revisited...Again

It has been some years since I was last in Byron Bay.  I haven't been since I was a lad.  OK, that's probably not strictly true.  It is most likely not that long at all since my last visit, meaning I wasn't quite a lad.  But I'm still 19 in my mind, if definitely not in my body, so you see why I'm easily confused.

Byron Bay is located about 480 miles north of Sydney and is was a quaint little beach town with a somewhat hippy vibe.  The headland, Cape Byron, home to the lighthouse, is the easternmost point of mainland Australia.

The imminent arrival of a public holiday (read bank holiday for UK readers) prompted me to get on the very efficient JetStar website and book myself a cheeky little jaunt north.  

As early as the plane journey up you get a sense of what Byron is slowly turning into.  The stag and hen capital of the east coast.  Whilst trying to surreptitiously photobomb the pictures of a gang of girls sat immediately in front of me my cover was blown by one of the contingent.  Confessing to the nefarious nature of my actions we naturally got chatting and it was one of the those "that accent sounds familiar, where are you from?  Yorkshire?  Me too!" conversations.

It turns out the blushing (yeah right!) bride to be was from Doncaster.  When I said I was from Halifax I was accused of something that I don't think has ever happened before.  "Halifax, that's posh innit?".  Hmm, ladies, when was your last night out in Halifax?  Despite the best efforts of a makeover in Maggies.  And the introduction of the very good Riccis restaurant, to complement La Luna, I am still not sure that "posh" is an adjective that usually gets thrown around Halifax.

Knowing how small Byron is I feel that I may bump into these ladies in the kebab shop later ordering their obligatory cheesy chips for the walk back to their accomodation.

Following a very smooth 1 hour flight there was gorgeous weather on arrival at Balina-Byron gateway airport.  And a very efficient service at the airport had me booked on the door to door shuttle bus service from Steve's Tours ($35).

For this visit, I once again chose to stay in Belongil, a short 10 minutes walk along the perfect golden sands, whilst spotting multiple pods of cavorting dolphins, to the centre of Byron Beach.  Byron Beach Resort, previously Belongil Beach house backpackers was again my abode of choice.  A great hostel, with fantastic amenities and a great cafe (The Tree House) one side and a bistro the other.  

Belongil Beach Resort

Due to the arrival of daylight savings, Sunday arrived an hour earlier than usual.  Well, it didn't really.  I just put my watch forward by one hour.  But such is the vagaries of time.  I took advantage of the early start, and after breakfast I headed off on the walk up to Cape Byron, and the aforementioned lighthouse.  This is about a leisurely one hour walk, but boy was it worth it!  

Sometime ago in Sydney I went whale watching.  You may remember me mentioning it.  And that fact that there was no whales to watch.  Well, that morning, from Cape Byron, I must have seen about six or seven schools of whales.  Breathtaking.  Completely.  One of the moments in life that you just shut up and take in.  At moments like this, I really do stop and tell myself how fortunate I am in life.  Humbling.

The rest of Sunday was taken up with mooching around the monthly markets and then decamping to the awesome Beach Hotel for the Sunday session.  This was madness.  Like the Roxy nightclub of Sowerby Bridge had been transported some 11000 miles down under.  Full of slightly (or maybe very) drunk backpackers and Aussies dancing around like maniacs to a live band.  It turned out this was the pre-entertainment for the NRL Grand Final, which is the rugby league.  I must admit it all got a little bit tedious eventually, including the rugby, so I had a slow walk back along the beach, transfixed by the night sky.  Without the light polution of the cities, the stars you can see are mesmerizing.  Sort of thing I could lay back at stare up at for eternity.

The weekend was drawing to a close and despite only being away for 3 days I already didn't  want to return to the big smoke.  Trips like this, to little havens of paradise like Byron really makes you question whether you are in fact a city person or not.  I'm not.

I loved my 3rd visit to Byron and am already thinking of when I can next return.  And I know I will.  And that it won't be such a long hiatus this time.  A piece of my heart is left in Byron Bay.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade

John Lennon once said, "Life is what happens whilst you are making plans."  Man alive, is that ever true!  Probably the only time I have agreed with a scouser.

You trundle along, thinking you are making progress, then life, or more specifically people, throw you a curveball.  I suppose the challenge is in how you react.  I probably threw mum a curveball this week.  By casually dropping into our regular Skype call that she is coming to Australia in March next year.  Yes, I told her, rather than asked.  You see, ever since I was moving out here, and the whole time I have actually been here, she has been saying she will visit.  But she prevaricates.  And she let's all sorts of stuff run through her head.  About how hard the flight will be.  She will never be able to do it.  Etc etc.  Blah blah blah.

So, I took the proverbial bull by the horns and made the decision for her.  I'm thankful to report that she took it very well.  After a period of going a little dizzy and needing some fresh air, she returned to the little iPod screen they were Skyping on (yeah, seriously!) and said she would love to come. 

She now needs to get her head around it being extremely warm in March, and start picking up summer clothes bargains in the autumn sales in the UK.  

Mum, Mosman awaits.

It is now September.  Which can only mean one thing.  Well, probably a few actually, but only one that I am going to blog about. 

The start of Oktoberfest.  Yes, you read that right.  I've never really understood why by the great German beer festival that bears the name of October actually starts in September.  But there you go. It gave us a great excuse to go the Bavarian Beer Cafe in Crows Nest and join in the celebrations. 

And celebrate we did.  I think.  After much strong German beer, and the barmaid rigging the tombola so we got free shots, the night seemed to pass in a little bit of a blur.  Did somebody say mortalled?  

Thank you Victoria, we will be back.  But we probably won't wait until next September.

In a less inebriated fashion, answer me this.  How often do we praise the tax man?  Not often, right.  

However, I must take my hats off to the good ladies and gentlemen of the Australian Tax Office this month.  Submitting a tax return is mandatory for everybody in Australia.  What a bloody pain I thought.  However, I did the right thing, completed all the necessary forms, and off it went.  Imagine my surprise when some weeks later I got a whopping refund in my bank account!  Those are the kind of curveballs you can throw at me every week.

So, being the prudent Yorkshireman (NOT tight) that I am, the majority got squirrelled away for a rainy day.  And yes, it does rain a lot here.  The remainder I decided to spend on a good old-fashioned shopping trip.  The Xmas booze cupboard got fully stocked, and I even treat myself to a (very) early birthday present.  Bosh!

The question is, will it last??

The other thing of note this month was the pending expiry of my passport.  Something that I couldn't leave unaddressed.  So having attended my appointment at the post office, and handed over the best part of $300, I was left for a disturbingly worrying period where I was unable to travel anywhere but within the confines of Australia.  Granted, they are very, very big confines, but I still felt like I had a bit of cabin fever coming on until I received a parcel in the post that contained my new, 10 year, electronically chipped UK passport.  How I breathed a sigh of relief.  

I do have a weekend jaunt to Byron Bay next weekend (the long bank holiday) for which I don't need the passport, but I’m always looking to my next overseas trip.  My passport has turned out to be my most reliable friend.  The one that never lets me down.  I want this relationship to continue.

Have passport, will travel

I should finish this missive on a sporting theme.  But rather than address the recent football scores (or rugby for that matter – bloody South Sydney and the Burgess brothers), I will just touch on the rather excellent news that Fox Sports have just this week announced.  From this weekend, they have signed a deal and will show live games from both the Spanish La Liga and the Italian Serie A.  Could my weekends get any more perfect?  Well, actually, probably.  A little bit.  But, now I can have orgiastic sport filled weekends, the likes of which starts for me in about 30 mins with the Newcastle Knights taking on Sydney Roosters for a place in next weekends Grand Final.

Then we have Chelsea v Spurs, followed quickly by Man Utd’s game versus West Brom.  I will have a little time to sleep, then it is Real Madrid early in the morning.  Oh, and just to finish the weekend, I get to watch the progress of ex United player Paul Pogba in the live Juventus match.

I might be gone for some time…

And now for something a little different...

Hi folks, how are we all doing?  I have something today that's not like my usual ravings.  I want to share something that was sent to me recently, and it got me thinking.

I have often wrote about the trials and tribulations of being an expat.  Facing the conflicting emotions of knowing I am living my own personal dream, whilst at the same time struggling with internal demons that are telling me that I am not quite where I should be.

Over time I wondered, would I become one of the stereotypical "ping pong poms"?

Who knows?  Maybe I will.  I have safely negotiated the choppy waters of the first year.  The waters are a little more sedate now and I seem to be sailing along nicely.  For the moment.  Without any ballast, I am liable to up and off somewhere new at the drop of a hat.

But whilst I am here, the infographic below is an excellent visualisation of the kind of decisions that I consider on a daily basis.

Have a read and make your own mind up, UK...or Oz??


Poms in Paradise? - An infographic by the team at Schepens

Brrr, goodbye Winter

Well, here I am well into the start of my second year as an expat in Australia.  There were times over the last year that I doubted whether I would ever get to write that.  Funny how life moves on, and I’m now wondering whether I will get to write the same about moving into year 3??

Being an expat is a rollercoaster of emotions.  Emotions that seem to be magnified, as you don’t have the ones who really love you around for you to share them with.  Especially at low times.  And there have been lows, let’s not kid ourselves.  It is through the low times that you wish you could just jump in the car and drive to mum’s for a cuppa, a hug, and for her to tell you it’s all going to work out.  Well, mum, it will J

So, what has happened this month?  The biggest event in my life, and I can’t overstate it, is the start of football season.  For any Australian readers, it is not the EPL.  It is THE Premier League.   If an acronym makes me want to grab Skippy and throttle him within an inch of his life, it is this.  What other Premier League can you possibly be referring to?

And on my new telly, with my new Foxtel cable connection I can get to see more games than I actually would at home.  Every, yes, every Premier League game is shown.  It’s a football feast at the weekend.  As I write this we are on the cusp of United v the scousers, so that is my Sunday night sorted.

Another big event was me taking a full day riders’ course and test on the scooter to get off my “L” plates.  As you may have seen, I was pleased to have successfully navigated the streets of Botany and am now on my “P” plates.  This is a strange system in Australia whereby you need to be on “provisional” plates for a year before you automatically convert to a full licence.  With this you would think people in Australia could drive.  Oh dear, how wrong you would be.  I could elaborate but I would only get angry again.

One thing I don’t need, is too much time on my hands.  As you know, this has a tendency to give me itchy feet.  It was during one such Sunday afternoon, bored, that I decided on impulse to book a weekend away to Byron Bay.  A few clicks of the mouse later and I was fully booked on a JetStar flight for a cheeky weekend in October.  I have been to Byron a couple of times over the years but will be good to go and get new memories.  That is what my life is about.

Oh well, if I can’t spend my money on myself, who can I spend it on?  And we will almost be in the throes of summer so will be nice to get out of the humid city.

Older readers may remember the phrase, “ambassador, you spoil us”, from the old Ferrero Rocher adverts.  I was reminded of this one day this week as I was invited along to a lunch for the Australian Ireland supporters’ fund.  You may think, me too, that this is a strange thing for an Englishman to go along to.  However, it was great event, officially for networking, but a good excuse for a really good feed and a couple of glasses of wine at lunch.  And the keynote speaker was the Irish Ambassador, hence the reference to chocolates at the top.

As I publish this, winter officially ends and we enter Spring.  A period of optimism at Cormack HQ as we now start the countdown to Summer, and Xmas.  Yes, it is just around the corner folks, sorry to mention it, but it’s time to start thinking about how to spend it.  Another birthday on the beach?  Quaffing champagne.  Or head to colder climes for a more traditional Xmas?  We are yet to see whether my newly bought esky will get to see the beach on the 25^th.  Upon such decisions are lives made.

On that philosophical note, I will leave you and get back to the football.  Til the next time folks!

Happy Australian Anniversary…

…to me.  Well almost.  By the time you read this I will be 1 week shy of being in Australia for 1 whole year.  This is on Sunday 4^th August.  Granted, I have had a couple of weeks back in the UK, but the milestone has come around so fast.  Plans are in place to celebrate with friends with a monster schnitty (chicken schnitzel) at one of my favourite drinking haunts, The Bavarian in Crow’s Nest.

This comes with the added bonus that I recently found out that the following Monday, 5^th August, is a bank holiday!  However, note the wording, “bank holiday”.  This doesn’t quite mean the same here as in the UK.  It means you only get the holiday if you actually work for a bank.  This is true.  So my friends don’t get to share the same privilege.

The last month, since we last spoke, has gone by in a blur of sporting success and free flowing beverages.  (Some of them quite hoppy Chris).  Although the first event almost turned in to a personal disaster for me.  This was, what subsequently turned out to be the unforgettable Lions match in the Sydney Olympic Stadium, now rebranded as the ANZ Stadium.  In the excitement to get on the beers, I had rushed around at home, got into the obligatory Lions jersey and got picked up.  Relaxing with a cold stubby, enjoying the sunshine, and ready to head off to town, I was asked, “final check, tickets?”.  Shiiiiiiiiiiit.  Seriously?

I’m just glad I was asked at 1.15pm, so we had time to remedy this emergency, and not when we had got all the way out to the stadium and in a slightly more inebriated condition.  I would have missed one of the greatest nights in Lions history as we tore the woeful Wallabies to pieces.  Lions! Lions! Lions!

The following weekend saw me heading out west of the city, sadly not on a big yellow bus, to celebrate “Xmas in July”.  I am not sure of the exact provenance of this tradition, but from what I can gather, it is for European ex pats that wanted to celebrate Xmas when it was cold and in winter.  OK, I agree with the winter part.  But cold?  I suspect it is just another excuse to get out the mistletoe. 

We had a fabulous time, with the carols playing, having a secret santa, and sat around the table having a full xmas dinner.  The host had also gone to the trouble of making some rather excellent homemade mince pies.  Mulled wine and marshmallows toasted around the open fire ended a great evening.

Weekend 3 in July brought the arrival of Man Utd for their Sydney leg of the pre-season tour.  On the Friday night they held an open training session, selling 20,000 tickets for this at $15.  At just over the price of 2 beers this was too good an opportunity to miss so off we went with the hordes to the Sydney Football Stadium to watch the new manager Moyes put the lads through their paces.

I’m not sure it was just as a result of that particular training session but the following night we crammed 83,000 fans in to the ANZ Stadium and watched Utd stay in first gear as they battered the A-League No Stars 5:1.  It should have been the “A-League All Stars” but in a team bereft of Alesandro del Piero and Shinji Ono there weren’t many stars on show.

Other stand out events in a fun packed month include an Italian cooking class at Signorelli’s with the whole team from work.  Around 50 of us were broken up into small teams, and after watching and learning from the head chef we had to go and make various dishes.  Caprese salad, pumpkin risotto and a bit of wagyu beef completed the evening’s menu.  Relaxing after with the complimentary wine (free flowing all night) we found out that our team had won.  I now have a brand new cook book as a prize.  Dinner anybody?

I have booked my next scooter course which, if passed, will allow me to move off my learner (L) plates and onto my provisional (P).  12 months on the Ps and I can remove altogether and will have a full licence.

Finally, in a fit of extravagance, I have now bought my first TV in Australia.  And a DVD player.  I am coming into the modern times.  Apparently I can also get the internet on the television but that might be a step too far for me right now.  Baby steps.  And whilst I was at it, I have finally ordered Foxtel, the Aussie equivalent of Sky television.  I have bought the sports package, obviously, that shows every English Premier League game.  And despite them being on at odd times I will have Sky+ so I can record them and watch at my leisure.  Life is good.  Just need the season to hurry up and start now.

Well, I think just about sums up July, and year 1.  If you are still reading, well done.  And thank you.  I promise to have a shorter blog next month.  I don’t expect it to be half as eventful but things have a funny way of working out.  Before we know it, I will be writing about Xmas (not the one in July) and all that brings.

But until then, stay safe, stay happy, and keep living.

FC