The Jungle Blog

So, this one has been a long time coming, but I was trying to get some photos/videos off my phone, who was refusing to co-operate. However, thanks to the magic of Andrew Victoria, we're back in business. So, without further ado, my trip to the rainforest.

NB: For the vast majority of the time, I couldn't actually see my phone screen due to the glare of the sun, so there's a very real possibility that these pictures are awful.

So, I had to get up really early to go into the rainforest- I was picked up by the tour bus from N Joy and we sped along toward adventure. My tour guide was kinda weird- he kept acknowledging that no one really wanted to listen to him, but this didn't seem to deter him from speaking. He was also morbidly obsessed with Steve Irwin and kept touting how we would be able to see the actual spot where Irwin died (Neato!). We stopped off at a look out point where one could see some of the reef and the jungle.

We then sped along toward a wildlife sanctuary, where there were cassowaries, which can split a man in half, and ducks, which can't but had a go anyway- while I was feeding an adorable little kangaroo, a horrid bird flew up at me to try and get the food for itself, after I specifically refused it anyway for not being cute enough. Yes, I said boo to a goose and in response was viciously attacked. (This would actually be a theme of that day- being attacked by animals.)
But not before I held a koala, a python, and a motherfucking crocodile. Yeah, that's right. An actual, living crocodile. And I held it, with my unprotected human hands. How badass am I right now?
However, the croc wasn't half as problematic as the drop-bear, oh, I'm sorry, I mean 'koala'.
A koala which tried to eat me. As in, sniffed out its meal, leant back and opened its maw- at which point, the keeper stepped in and pulled him out of my grasp. The Koala was named 'grizzly' (I wonder why), so I can say I've faced being eaten by bears both drop and grizzly. I'm pretty sure I'm the most bad ass person in my social circle now. And I'm not even finished yet.
So, in the sanctuary, I saw pelicans, cassowaries and a lungfish (which is fucking horrific, btw), crossing three other animals off my Ozzie bucket list (how do I only have four months left?!). I also fed kangaroos for the second time, as well as some weird birds, and, inadvertently, one overly-eager duck. 
Then, it was on to the river and this is where things get really bad ass.
Anyone who read the last post and clicked on the link at the end will have read how crocodiles on the Daintree river have been becoming more aggressive, and that one croc actually attacked a river ferry a couple of years ago. This is the croc that I encountered on my trip along the river. We were chugging along, and I'll admit I was kinda bored, having only really seen mangroves at this point. Then I spotted two eyes popping out of the river, staring, I thought, right at me. I pointed them out and we all marvelled at this pair of eyes, which belonged to a croc named 'Scarface', as our guide informed us. After a while, the eyes submerged and we all thought that was that. I'll show you my picture versus one I found on google:

So, that's what I saw; pretty cool, but not all that threatening, right?

Found here

That was what I was actually up against. And I say 'up against' because guess what? Scarface resurfaced, and our guide informed us he was stalking the boat. 'Don't worry, though' he added, 'they hardly ever attack boats'. This was not as comforting as he thought. Had I read the article before I went, I might well have abandoned ship then and there, even though this would have simply put me even more in Scarface's domain. So, I can now say I've been stalked by a monocular bull croc named 'Scarface'. Jari, step down as the badass-king of our friendship group. We have a new monarch of badassery.

This guy.

After the river cruise, we stopped off at the point where you could see EXACTLY WHERE STEVE IRWIN DIED! ERMAGERD! After telling us how he died for the third time, TJ, our tour guide, let us off the bus and made us wait at this point for what felt like an inordinately long amount of time. I think he wanted us to fully appreciate that THIS IS THE PLACE WHERE STEVE MOTHERFUCKIN' IRWIN CEASED TO LIVE!!1!

Taste the death.

Then, we had lunch at an ice cream factory. Sadly, this is not what it sounds like- lunch was provided by the tour group and we sat and ate outside the ice cream factory. Still, I did sample some of the ice cream and it was delicious- chilli and chocolate, which I always think of as mine and Freya's flavour. There was maybe a touch too much chilli in there, so rather than cooling my pallet (Cairns is tropical, you know), it just made me reach for the water jug.
Also, while eating I walked into a spider's web. My natural reaction was to shake myself free and then to move on as though nothing had happened. This is the spider into whose web I had walked:

It's known as the Golden Orb spider and can kill people. And I shook its web whilst entangled in it. This is my life now.
Oh, also, the ice cream factory's toilets had a confusing use policy:

"Strictly" *nudge**nudge**wink**wink*. This reminds me of Rik's story about a friend who became a "Taxi driver".

After this, it was onto the rainforest, and I fulfilled another childhood wish by trekking into the jungle, even going barefoot at one point.

Sadly, this was a rather uneventful trek, even though we saw some more venomous spiders and I ate a live ant (I was told I could- it tasted of lemon). We were told to look out for cassowaries, which, as previously stated, can split one in half, but sadly none approached. Oh well, I'm still more badass than you, Dr. Fowkes and all (y)our little friends.

The next and final stop was at the beach, where I encountered this lovely sign:

I love the way the tentacles are artfully missing his lack-of-crotch.
I also want to point out that the beach looked like this:

Ok, the photo doesn't do it justice. Just understand that it was fucking beautiful- the water was pristine and inviting and full of killer jellyfish. *Sigh* Nice one, God, you got us. Also, I totally wrote 'Moi Smells' in the sand but it didn't come out in the picture- but it was definitely there, so, yeah. It's been written on both hemispheres. It's official now.

Anyway, after this we pretty much just headed back to the hostel, but I wanna share one final anecdote with y'all. On the way back, I struck up a conversation with one of my fellow tourees (I don't like how much that sounds like 'Tory', oh well), whose name was Peter. Peter was having a mid-life crisis. You could tell because he kept saying 'this is my trip around the world and then after this, it's settling down and having kids' and then laughing hysterically. Peter lived in San Francisco, but had been all over and was basically filling in the blanks on his travel check-sheet before he reproduced and his life ended. I can only hope I've done as much when my mid-life crisis comes around.
God bless you, Pete, wherever you are, and God help your children.

More photographs to be found here.

That funny reefer man

So...I went to the reef.
That's one to tick off the bucket list.
I also saw Nemo, Dory and a giant clam ('lives under the sea, lots of legs!').
That's another.
And I faced up to one of my greatest ever fears, being stung by a jellyfish.
That was...underwhelming.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we? So, the day after I posted about how glorious N Joy was, I went to the reef. I'm gonna throw in some Travel Writer-y stuff here and say I went with 'Reef Experience', who were extrememly competent and provide breakfast, lunch, sun cream and ginger tablets for the faint of stomach. I also hired an underwater camera through N Joy, and the camera worked very well, but I found the price of replacing one of the parts, which fell to the bottom of the sea bed, to be kinda extortionate.

The boat ride took a lot longer, and was a lot bumpier (though I resisted the ginger*), than I expected; I was one of the only people there on their own, and was thus encouraged to 'follow other divers like a creeper'.

Got your feet.

It made the ride there kinda dull, but they did provide a marine biology lecture, which I attended and remember exactly nothing about. Time well spent.
Finally, we arrived. I'd signed up for introductory diving, and so was given a class in how to breathe, see and avoid touching stuff. I was in group 13 for diving, and so had to wait a while before I took my turn and was informed I could go snorkelling if I so desired.
Good Lord, but snorkelling is awkward. In fact, one could say it was 'snorkward'. But one wouldn't, because one is not a clown. I'd nominally been snorkelling once in Corsica, but all I remember is freaking out because of this big red fish and instead opting to playing gorillas in the shallows. Time well spent.
For one thing, my mask didn't fit- surprise, surprise, my head was too big. I asked for a replacement from a nice American lass named Amanda, who, it transpired, was the boat's resident Marine Biologist (I had honestly forgotten it was she who gave the lecture- snorkward!). She told me I was the politest person they'd ever had aboard, which made me feel good, and then she gave me a new mask which worked a little better, but I still had to get a replacement for the actual scubaing. It turned out this final mask was 'prescription' and is meant to be saved for people with actual medical conditions.
And it still didn't fit correctly.
Anyway, back to snorkelling. I also found it extremely awkward to breathe at first, simply because the natural rhythm involves using one's nose, and this is a big no no for snorkelling. I swallowed huge amounts of sea water, and had to get out of the water several times to soothe my aching throat.
But it was fucking beautiful- in fact, one of the times I swallowed the most water was because I simply couldn't stop myself from gasping at the beauty.
Here are just a few photos:

 

 

and the entire bunch can be found here.

I'd never been open water swimming before, and I'd be lying if I said the experience wasn't slightly disconcerting. But I didn't have a heart attack, which I was a little worried about. However, I was stung by a jellyfish, which I was a LOT worried about.
Now, those who know me very, very well will know that jellyfish are possibly the creature I'm scared of the most. Had I seen the one that stung me, I may not have been able to get into the water, having turned down the opportunity to hire a wetsuit (Amanda assuring me that I wouldn't be stung- nice going, yank!). But it was a drive by stinging- it got me on the back of the leg, then floated off to injure other people. And honestly, I didn't think anything of it- I just thought it was a random sensation caused by the change in pressure. It was only when I got back to N Joy and was showering that I noticed the huge red welt on the back of my leg.
And, honestly, I'm glad it happened that way: it meant I got to see the reef and realise that maybe not all stingers are the devil's minions. Interestingly, though, the day after I went to the reef at least one company stopped going out to the reef cos there were just too many box jellyfish. So, I lucked out there.
Now, to scuba diving. My instructor was named Becky, and she was a scouser. Apart from that, I can't fault her, though, as she was extremely good at pointing out everything I might miss, and had a love of clownfish bordering on the obsessive (I found Nemo. Several times.) She had to hold my hand the entire time because I am what we in the business call a 'bad diver' (also, they'd misjudged the weights I'd need, and I floated away if I wasn't anchored down). I can spout a bunch of cliches about how the reef is like another planet (lack of oxygen, strange plant life, aforementioned floating away due to lack of gravity), and how it's like an underwater forest, but I honestly couldn't do it justice, so I'll just say wait until I post the videos (photos were tricky with Becky holding my hand).
I actually went on two dives, paying for the second aboard the boat, simply because it was too good an experience to turn down a second go. It really was incredible, and if at all possible, I'm gonna return before I leave; my only regret was that I didn't see any turtles, despite visiting a turtle breeding ground. But that's a minor complaint. Everything else was perfect.

Coming soon: Drop bears, spiders and Scarface the crocodile.

*Be Dorothy.

Bats with wings, do your thing

Glad to see you’ve awoken from the hypoglycaemic coma into which you slipped upon viewing photography from the hands of your idol, me.

Well, dial 999, cos here comes some more images captured by my most singular hand.

The subject this time is nothing so evasive as the common garden pancake, but the much more placid fruit bat. Yes, those black cocoons hanging from the trees are not incredibly rotten apples nor some form of shiny metapod, as I first decried, but hundreds and hundreds of flying foxes! My friend John, of penguin fame, drove me down to visit the colony in Yarra Bend Park and even played tour guide, pointing out the various fragrant plants and filling in the rather large gaps in my knowledge about fruit bats (did you know they can swim?) I also got to learn some more unusual facts about the bats from reading the signs- for example, that smell that pervades the bat cave in Chester zoo is not their faeces, but their pheromones, so if you don’t mind it, you may well be a zoophile. Also, it conserves more energy to sleep hanging upside down than to defy gravity and stand up- who knew, right? Anyway, long story short, there were hundreds and hundreds of bats, swarming the trees like gremlins on a plane wing, not moving and perfectly visible in broad daylight, and these were the best I could get for you:

I tried shouting 'use harden' to no avail.

Note the harbinger of death or 'poison apple' look.

A bat in the hand is worth two in the bush. 

Something witty.

And please gawk in disbelief at a video I shot of bat in flight.

Allow me to reiterate: I fuckin' love Australia.

Penguins and possums and fruit bats, oh my!

PENGUINS.

Sorry, I like to think I'm normally slightly more eloquent than that, but it has to be said: I SAW PENGUINS IN THE WILD! Real, live, tiny, cute, shy, beautiful PENGUINS!
John, a fellow Yarra-n, took Jason and me out to St. Kilda's beach last night; a short walk along the pier, a hop, skip and a jump along a frankly somewhat perillous walkway spanning the riled ocean, and there they were.

PENGUINS.

Real, live, fuzzy, breathing, squawking PENGUINS! I was a foot away from one at one point- I could have reached out and touched him, had I so desired. I didn't, because that would have been cruel and I'm not a cruel person, but by God, it was tempting. The species I saw were called 'Little Penguins', changed from the not so PC 'Fairy Penguins'. And they look like this:


Ladies.

 They are the most adorable thing one could imagine, and one looked right at me with his beady little eyes and I genuinely wanted to just squeal (ask Jason and I probably did.) Sadly, I was only allowed to coo over them for about half-an-hour as we had to return before our parking ticket ran out. But I will return. I vow this. I will see more

PENGUINS.

Real, live, terrified, kidnapped, mine now PENGUINS.

Epilogue:
To make sense of the title, Jason and I went for a stroll before I trip to see the- well, you know. And we saw a fruit bat, very large, very fast, very close.
And then another.
And another.
Then four.
Then five.
You see where I'm going with this? There were hundreds, filling the sky, clogging the horizon with their slightly creepy silhouettes. It was slightly like the scene in the wizard of oz, where the witch sends her little minions out to get them! and I had to stop myself from calling out 'Monkeys' in a Rik Hart baritone. I elected not to so as not to annoy Jason by talking even more about TWWOO.
Then, on the way back, we saw a possum- smaller than the one which crossed my path a couple of weeks ago- he scarpered when he saw us: not up a tree, as expected, but down a train. Proving that a leopard may change its spots and a possum its exits.

In the night garden

Yesterday was a good day. I really, really want to stress that. It wasn't just that I actually managed to make myself get up early and thus accomplished several important tasks an hour before I'd normally even be up on a day when I had no classes. It wasn't just that I met Jason as I was about to head back and so extended my trip into town with pleasant company and a trip to the Uni bookshop, which is a very lovely space. It wasn't even just that I found out that the front desk had decided to waive the late fee on my first fortnight's rent.

No, whilst all these events were charming and agreeable in their own right, the thing that made yesterday really extraordinary was the nighttime constitutional Jason, Elle and I decided to take. Allow me to set the scene: The O-week event for that evening was a rubik's cube party (essentially a technicolour school disco), but everyone wanted to arrive fashionably later than everyone else. So, the party having officially started at 7.30, by 8.30 there were four people sluggishly grooving to unseemly club anthems. Tiring of this, Jason and I elected to duck out and saunter around the park which encircles our fair domicile; as we were setting off, Elle chanced by and enquired with furrowed brow to where we were headed and we invited her along. She gratefully acquiesced and the three of us began our journey to a raucous melody of wit and playful jibes. Whilst ambling along the path that runs through Yarra bend road, we gradually began to run out of street lights and the conversation turned to the fantastically dark things that could happen out there, in the night. Of course, some of these were positively pedestrian, like being stabbed or taken hostage, the little things that could take place in Bonny Scotland, but, this being Australia, there were also the delightful possibilities of crocodiles and drop bears, funnel web spiders and paralysing ticks, and the entire promenade had a delightful flavour of danger. Then, a wondrous thing happened- we got lost (not so uncommon) and I was the one to navigate our way back, no kidding. In Australia, everything truly is upside down, as I genuinely seem to have a sense of direction here- no less than four times recently, I have steered whatever group I'm in down the correct path. My theory is that, like migratory birds, I have a piece of metal in my head, but instead of directing me North, as the birds' does, mine is attracted to the South Pole. Now that I am nearer the underside of the globe, this piece of metal is pulling its weight rather than just spinning uselessly about. Huzzah. On top of this, we saw a flying fox, which was beautifully large and opaque in the moonlight; a living shadow soaring amongst the trees. And then, we returned to the party, and though there weren't any more people, those who were there were now suitable inebriated to make the thing enjoyable and I really had fun jiving in our tiny little circle. I even got in a request (Cee Lo Green- I won't name the song, as my parents are reading), and some of the Bedlam classics were played, and it really felt like being back in Edinburgh, except less crowded. 

Lovely.

A splash of colour

Just now, I had genuine, spontaneous contact with two people my own age. It was glorious.
They were a young couple. I was at the train station, see, near Yarra, but I didn't know the way back, having walked an overcircuitous that morning to the next station over. I overheard them discussing what they would have for dinner- he wanted a hamburger, maybe a pizza, she, fish cakes with onions (maybe making them into a sandwich- well, it takes all sorts to make a world.)
Well, they didn't seem the mugging type, so I screwed my courage to the sticking place and asked for directions. I told them I was looking for NMIT as people don't seem to have heard of Yarra House; it turns out they were walking the same direction, so they escorted me part of the way.
The girl reminded me a little of Ramona from Scott Pilgrim- a comparison she would have cherished, judging by the steampunk goggles proudly displayed atop her head. I commented on them and she was delighted to meet someone who knew what steampunk was. The man was more reserved, but he still managed to get a laugh about my obvious Britishness. He was an engineer and physicist, studying at RMIT, she a environment scientist and international study...er at Deacon. From what I gathered, they knew each other from the rural idyll they both came from. I didn't get either of their names, not that it would have helped since I don't have facebook, but I may meet them again on the public transport to which I am now enslaved.
For the sake of thoroughrority, I should say I returned to the games room last night to find the same man there. His name is Michael. He is quite nice, from what I can gather and asked me (yet again) what I wanted to watch. I noticed Back to the Future on the tivo. We watched the entire trilogy together. The only reason this does not count as contact is that over the course of six hours, we exchanged five lines of dialogue. Of course, going by this rate of increase, by Wednesday we should be married.


This is not related to the rest of this post, but I want to record it anyway- the principle difference I have noticed between Australia and the UK so far, excepting currency and accents, is the birds: the ones outside my window sound like monkeys and look like magpies on steroids. And today, as I was walking back, I glimpsed a beautiful, Macaw-like thing just sitting in a tree. It was like a rainbow had perched on the branch and I was awe-struck. I have no idea what it was, but I hope there are more of them because there is nothing like that just flying around in Edinburgh.