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.

Njoy yourself

I currently sit in the lushest youth hostel in which I have ever stayed; and, yes, that includes Brodie’s in Edinburgh (as that one shopkeep put it ‘Brodies? Brodies is a dah-ump!’).

It has a pool, people.

And pool people.

They give you free meal cards for a local restaurant- and, on Tuesdays, free pizza! So, yes, last night I went out with a group of the hostelers to a local bar and got free pizza- I spent the night conversing with a GerMAN named Matteo, and tonight we're gonna go to the beach (apparently one can't swim there because of crocodiles. We shall see.)

I also got a free upgrade to my room because, and I quote, I was a ‘fellow Englishman’ to the guy at the counter- I was meant to be sharing with eight other people, instead I share with only one! And I don’t have to sleep on a bunk bed! Calloo, callay!

‘But, Rory!’, you cry, your voice awash with wonderment, ‘why on earth are you in a Youth Hostel?’ Why, because I’m in Cairns, of course! And what’s in Cairns?

The Motherfuckin’ Great Barrier Reef. That’s what. I glimpsed it from the plane window (also quite a pleasant flight- there was no one sitting next to me), and it was beautiful. There's also a rainforest nearby, so I'm going to that as well! Squee!

Let’s hope I didn’t use up all my good karma on the flight and the hostel, and that the actual experience ends up being good as well.

P.S. The title comes from the fact that I’m staying at the ‘N Joy Traveller’s residency’. In case y’all were wondering. 

Demonstra-babble

So, I haven't updated y'all in a while, and quite a lot has happened in that time.
No, really. Some of it would have merited blog posts of its own.

So, we had a punch party.
Everyone dressed up (Martin went for a Sound of Music feel- Lord knows why). And the punch was non-alcoholic so I definitely did not get tipsy and fall asleep in the midday sun, only to be woken by the nudging of a passing stranger's foot. There was also a bocce tournament, and I am assured that I was amazing, as I threw the ball the furthest, which is surely the point of bocce.

I also met with Charlotte for coffee, who pointed out that I overuse the word 'demonstrable', causing me to move on to the word 'emphatically'. Who knows what my buzzword will be when I kick the 'emphatically' habit- previous addictions include 'ostensibly' (brought to my attention by Chaz), 'obtuse' (Aspen) and 'appreciative' (Esmond).

I've also been to two plays with Andrew recently: Gaybies- verbatim interviews with the children of gay parents staged with panache, flair and pizazz, and with Geoffrey Rush in attendance (yeah, I was standing a foot away from Lionel Logue)- and Act A Lady, which was akin to an Almodovar film being staged as a pantomime (yes, it was that bizarre). Act A Lady really warmed my heart because it reminded me so much of the old boards I used to tread in Broseley, Wenlock and Horsehay; it was the first play I've seen in at least a year that wasn't a polished, big-budget, unsinkable whizzo affair. And that was good for me- the tech was minimal, the acting unaffected and the sets simple. I should see more theatre like that and remind myself what's possible even without money. 

In other news, I was nearly hit by a car (and I mean, really nearly- it was two inches away) whilst driving about with Victoria and Finny (who's a Doctor Who fangirl- yay!). This guy came out of nowhere and nearly smashed right into the side of the car I was sitting on. Luckily, Victoria swerved, because if she hadn't I would have been hit head on by a car because this guy was not stopping. I remember muttering 'Oh, God' and Finny screamed.
And then the guy had the nerve to beep at us. Asshole.

It was also Australia day on Saturday, and I drove with Aspen, Martin and Victoria to Aspen's hometown, (in the car on the way, ABBA's 'The name of the game' got stuck on repeat- I miss you, group 4 (except Joseph)), where her Dad was named 'Citizen of the Year', which was pretty cool. She got her picture in the paper, which was kinda cool. And there was free face painting, which was super awesome amazing.

Don't worry, it's gone now. By which I mean the beard, not the face paint.

We then went for a party at a friend of Victoria's, which was, quelle surprise!, a barbecue. It was very fun and I got to meet many colorful new characters, including a descendant of bigfoot.

The next day we went back to Victoria's, and there this happened:

 

Eat your heart out, Mary Poppins.

Cup-lettes

I really like the Rowden White,

The chairs are plush, the staff polite

It's the place to go, with time to burn

There's just one rule: don't try to learn

They let you be, they don't take names

If you watch TV or play some games

They play you films, if you've a gap

They've even got a place to nap

Need a break before your final?

They'll lend you both CDs and vinyl

Special sections for every fetish-

And Fifty Shades, if you're coquettish 

Comic books (if you're a layman),

The collected works of Neil Gaiman!

All you could want, in one little cuddy,

So come inside, but, for the love of God, please don't study

Guess which library re-opened today? Also, apropos of nothing, rhymezone.com has had a redesign and I don't like it. 

Soapbox

Yesterday, I visited the immigration museum. This in itself could merit a fine, if somewhat trite, blog post, because the museum is well put together, pleasingly designed and just plain interesting. It also had stuffed blackbirds in dickie bows:

You can't see it, but the sign pronounces that they're singing 'bye bye, blackbird', which is just the kind of inane detail I love in a museum. This was part of an exhibit about all the animals which were exported to Australia and also included artful arrangements of cockroaches:

The first one to say the guy in the reflection is a cockroach is a dead man,

 And rats:

It just needs Rik as a judge.

All of which is very charming and makes for a nice, if somewhat trite, anecdote. However, the main reason I wanted to talk about the immigration museum was because of the context in which I saw it: I had just read in The Age that Julia Gillard was going to continue to allow employers to discriminate against people because of their sexuality and that she had previously declared that she wouldn't be implementing marriage equality.
And then I came across this display:

Which is about one of Australia's first mixed marriages in Australia between a greek immigrant and an aboriginal woman. The sign talked about the difficulties they faced as a mixed-ethnicity couple but then concluded that this was no longer an issue, and that the term 'mixed marriage' isn't even used anymore because Australia's just so damn progressive when it comes to love.

Ahem.

And then there was this display: 

Which touches on Jewish immigrants, and says how they weren't really accepted until the holocaust made people realise that anti-semitism isn't cool. There were other minority groups exterminated in the concentration camps, you know.
And then the entire second floor was dedicated to diversity and how great it is. In the interest of fairness, there was one instance of the word 'queer', thrown in amongst a bunch of other slurs which we were told can cause offence.

As I said, the museum was engaging and well-designed; I just wasn't feeling it. I don't know if I'll come back to Australia in my later life, but I certainly wouldn't consider moving here until some serious progress is made vis-a-vis equality. However, if that progress is ever made, I should have no problem coming back, because the museum included a replica of the Australian citizenry test, and I passed with flying colours.

Also of note: this is the only museum to have ever made me feel sea sick.

Pool Intentions/Crusty said yes is totally my new band name

I have just returned from a barbecue-cum-pool party at Milly's, and have a lovely case of sunburn to show for it (I promise I used suncream, mummy, but the water washed it off).

Yes, we spent the afternoon frollicking in the piscine (sea-water, not chlorine, don'tcha know?) and then had some lovely grilled meat. There is an Ozzie innovation which I really want to import to British swimming pools called 'whirlpooling'; basically, everyone runs a caucus race until the currents created cause everyone to trip up and be flung around wildly (someone has nearly drowned both times we tried it). I think the old public baths in Edinburgh could benefit enormously from adopting this activity, and it would mean fewer old people and children would show up to spoil everyone else' swimming experience, lest they get caught in the elliptical exodus.

On top of this, I stumbled upon a marriage proposal whilst returning from the city the other day: someone, nick-named 'J-lo', had written out an elaborate love note in chalk for their darling 'crusty' along their walk home (some of which corresponded with mine- I admit to taking a detour to read all of it), leading right to the front door, where I like to imagine J-Lo was waiting with champagne and 'kiss me' blasting on a stereo. I was going to film it and put it on here but a) I thought it was probably a personal thing and b) it was just too long for me to film on my phone- this thing was a friggin' love epic. Incredibly romantic and actually very well punctuated- I sure hope Crusty said yes, there's a keeper if ever I saw one.

Finally, Aspen and I visited the National Opal Museum on Tuesday, which for some reason was Dinosaur themed,

except for one part where there were loads of molluscs hot glued onto the wall (which I didn't photograph). Anyway, I'd love to say I now know more about Opals than anyone could ever possibly need but it really wasn't that informative.  If they weren't a museum, I'd say they just wanted to sell opals.

Illiberal Arts

Have I ever mentioned how much I like animation? Especially animated feature films? Cos I do. Or, at least, I thought I did. Then I visited the Silver K Gallery in Armadale.

Where preconceptions die.

Don't get me wrong, the exhibit at the Silver K, which is an animation gallery, was lovely- but the amount of money that some people were willing to pay for cells of animation makes me realise that what I thought was a passion is, in fact, a mere passing fancy. 

Take for example this piece:

I feel this serves to obfuscate how dull some parts of both Sleeping Beauty and Fantasia are. Also, in case the staff of the silver K somehow find this blog, I did not take this picture, but found it on google.

You cannot imagine how much the colour pops in the original. It is just captivating. I stared for several minutes. Did I stare enough to be willing to pay $955? No, sir. No I did not.

But some one did. Cos that piece had been sold just this morning for that exact amount. The curator told me this with evident pity for me for having just missed out on this absolute steal in his voice and I lamented appropriately while inside I was reeling.

This was the essential problem I had with the Silver K gallery, which was otherwise a very pleasant viewing experience: they were obviously geared towards selling the pictures in their care, while I just wanted to observe them and  then leave (and possibly print out some flimsy, but cheap, paper copies later on), as I do at most galleries. I cannot afford art. This is why I have cut up comic books on my walls. Even though there was a concession price to enter the gallery, they evidently did not want student patrons. 

However, the art of Disney is so characterful that there was a lot to be got out of just looking at individual stills, and the concept art was fascinating: I wasn't allowed to take photos, but let's just say Ursula looked a lot different in the beginning. 

Anyway, if future generations of Melbourne Exchange students are reading this, I recommend the Silver K gallery to you: but maybe try dressing up like you're rich so they don't keep asking where you heard about them (they advertise on TV for heaven's sake.)