Things you didn't know about Brisbane; or Things I assume you didn't know about Brisbane because I didn't know them before I lived here
Part 1:
1) Queenslander!!: The Queenslander!! is a unique being, exclusively found in the north east quarter of Australia. They are presumably spread throughout the state, but I have only had the chance to study them in the greater Brisbane region. They are characterised by their love of rugby league, their natural distrust of their southern neighbours, and a tendancy to yell "Queenslander!!" in a tone similar to that of the Matt Damon puppet on Team America. Born out of a perpetual sense of being overlooked and 'doing it tough', the Queenslander!! is apparently unaware that rather than being thought of as the never-say-die underdog by the more developed states, they are simply not thought of at all.
N.B. 'A Queenslander' is also a quite attractive and distinctive style of architecture found in this fine state. It is irrelevant to this discussion.
2) Brisbane is a zoo: From our balcony on any one morning you will likely spy possums, bats (also known by the much less sinister pseudonym 'flying fox') and big-ass lizards. Recently we had an entire family of owls nesting 3m from our back door, which is pretty cool. Although not as cool as if we'd had a couple of families so we could've had an entire parliament*.
Cane toads are prevalent, but more likely to be seen in pancake form on the road than actually jumping about the place. And people are advised against swimming in the Brisbane River because of the large population of bull sharks. How badass is that?
3) The Valley is fucked: For the blokes: Think of the worst kind of guys you see at music festivals; the big rigs jacked up on a facefull of pills, their own sense of self worth and too many lukewarm Smirnoff Blacks (FYI: the festival ones are the same strength as the Reds, they just cost more. Ya dickhead). Now, douse in a full can of Lynx Africa. Throw a Quiksilver button up shirt on over some ripped, randomly bleached jeans and a pair of leather dress shoes that have only a few remaining specks of blood left on them from last week's head stomping escapades. And you're set.
Now for the ladies: Think of the female equivalent of the aforementioned male festival fucktard - the attitude is likely similar, but externally they will have added a bottled tan or two, and they are likely at least pretending to wear some sort of garment on their upper body, no matter how brief. For your night out, don't change much at all. Well, possibly wear something a bit skimpier. Seriously, think of the tiniest, trashiest festival outfit you can think of and remove 50-70% of the material, because that's apparently what passes for a clubbing ensemble these days. And add a pair of super high stripper heels from Mum's closet.
Because she's a stripper.
And now you're set for a night out in Fortitude Valley! Yay!!
*collective nouns are rad. I'm super keen to find a sleuth of bears or a smack of jellyfish
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
What's Going On?
Funnily enough, I've been pretty slack on the whole Van List thing ever since I stopped travelling in the van.
But for various very complicated reasons (work gave me a laptop so I actually have access from home now) I've decided just to take up the blog again, and start updating about random stuff that's been happening, while still trying to knock items off the list.
So here's what's been happening:
I lived in Coffs Harbour with my Uncle for about a month around May.
I worked as a Carnie for a weekend
I moved to Brisbane in June-ish
I got a job as a door-knocking-fruit-spruiking-annoying-as-all-hell-salesman-guy for a month.
I quit.
I met a great girl.
My sister came to visit and we cruised around northern NSW.
I went to Splendour. Epic.
I got a job. At a uni. Running events and stuff. So that part of my life hasn't really changed one bit from about 18mths ago. Except I get paid more.
I got a totally super sweet pad right on the river in Brisbane.
Myself and aforementioned great girl parted ways.
I met a bunch of Brisbane folks, had some Perth crew come to visit and gnerally started to dig Brisbane in a big way.
My Papa passed away. That was sad. But I went back to Perth and got naked at Downsy's place, so I like to think I made the best of a bad situation.
My folks came to visit. Their campervan is way more boss than mine.
I won two mixed netball grandfinals. So that part of my life hasn't really changed one bit from about 18mths ago. I still don't get paid though. Yet
I went back to Perth again for Christmas. The ham was nice, but I definitely wasn't upset to come back here.
I went to Woodford Folk Fest over NYE with a bunch of great school children.
I went on a date with a random whilst dressed as a gay businessman and very, very stoned.
I've managed to go and do a 9 to 5 job for nearly 6 months without cracking the shits and driving off into the sunset. Again.
And that's that.
I promise next time will be more exciting.
xoxo
Gossip Chris
But for various very complicated reasons (work gave me a laptop so I actually have access from home now) I've decided just to take up the blog again, and start updating about random stuff that's been happening, while still trying to knock items off the list.
So here's what's been happening:
I lived in Coffs Harbour with my Uncle for about a month around May.
I worked as a Carnie for a weekend
I moved to Brisbane in June-ish
I got a job as a door-knocking-fruit-spruiking-annoying-as-all-hell-salesman-guy for a month.
I quit.
I met a great girl.
My sister came to visit and we cruised around northern NSW.
I went to Splendour. Epic.
I got a job. At a uni. Running events and stuff. So that part of my life hasn't really changed one bit from about 18mths ago. Except I get paid more.
I got a totally super sweet pad right on the river in Brisbane.
Myself and aforementioned great girl parted ways.
I met a bunch of Brisbane folks, had some Perth crew come to visit and gnerally started to dig Brisbane in a big way.
My Papa passed away. That was sad. But I went back to Perth and got naked at Downsy's place, so I like to think I made the best of a bad situation.
My folks came to visit. Their campervan is way more boss than mine.
I won two mixed netball grandfinals. So that part of my life hasn't really changed one bit from about 18mths ago. I still don't get paid though. Yet
I went back to Perth again for Christmas. The ham was nice, but I definitely wasn't upset to come back here.
I went to Woodford Folk Fest over NYE with a bunch of great school children.
I went on a date with a random whilst dressed as a gay businessman and very, very stoned.
I've managed to go and do a 9 to 5 job for nearly 6 months without cracking the shits and driving off into the sunset. Again.
And that's that.
I promise next time will be more exciting.
xoxo
Gossip Chris
 |
| Sunset from my front lawn. Gonna be bragging about it a lot. |
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
#17
17. Avoid Macca’s HJs, Red Rooster, Chicken Treat, Domino’s and Pizza Hut for 6 months
Success!! While I was travelling this was probably the easiest thing to do.
I only ever had minor cravings for fast food if I happened to stop at a servo with a Maccas/KFC/HJs attached (as they pretty much all do on the Pacific Hwy), but seeing as I was on a budget and in hippy mode, I convinced myself that apples were much tastier. And for a while they were.
And then I got to the Gold Coast.
The fucking Gold Coast.
I'd blagged my way into a conference for work on the Goldie, that just so happened to be running at the same time as Uni Games. Long story short (which is rare for me), I find myself on a Monday night wandering around the trashtastic land of drunken debauchery that is Uni Games at the Gold Coast, without the ability to get into any clubs. And I'm drunk. And then I smell it. Hungry Jacks.
People have their own preferences for burgers/kebabs/fried chicken, but for me it has always and will always be Hungry Jacks. Particularly the heavenly combination of a Grilled Chicken Burger and a Bacon Deluxe Burger, which when combined account for 88% of my daily fat needs and 86% of my salt requirements. Pretty reasonable if you ask me.
I sat down, unwrapped the Bacon Deluxe (always start with the heavier burger and have the lighter chicken burger as a palate cleanser to end the meal), closed my eyes and bit down.
Just 5 minutes later and there was nothing left. You know that instantaneous feeling of regret that you get as soon as you've done something you shouldn't - hit the cricket ball straight towards the window, sculled the remaining vodka in the bottle, slept with your mate's sister - I felt none of it.
After no junk food of any kind for around 8 months there was no regret, no meat sweats, no purging into the gutter. In fact I felt so good I went to the Cas, met up with Mia on her 21st bday along with a bunch of the old Guild crew (who had also conned their way into a Gold Coast junket) and drank solidly for another 5 hours.
Since that night I haven't indulged again. So in the last 11 months I have eaten food from one major chain fast food store, and I've got very few urges to do so once more.
Unless I go back to the fucking Gold Coast, of course.
Success!! While I was travelling this was probably the easiest thing to do.
I only ever had minor cravings for fast food if I happened to stop at a servo with a Maccas/KFC/HJs attached (as they pretty much all do on the Pacific Hwy), but seeing as I was on a budget and in hippy mode, I convinced myself that apples were much tastier. And for a while they were.
And then I got to the Gold Coast.
The fucking Gold Coast.
I'd blagged my way into a conference for work on the Goldie, that just so happened to be running at the same time as Uni Games. Long story short (which is rare for me), I find myself on a Monday night wandering around the trashtastic land of drunken debauchery that is Uni Games at the Gold Coast, without the ability to get into any clubs. And I'm drunk. And then I smell it. Hungry Jacks.
People have their own preferences for burgers/kebabs/fried chicken, but for me it has always and will always be Hungry Jacks. Particularly the heavenly combination of a Grilled Chicken Burger and a Bacon Deluxe Burger, which when combined account for 88% of my daily fat needs and 86% of my salt requirements. Pretty reasonable if you ask me.
I sat down, unwrapped the Bacon Deluxe (always start with the heavier burger and have the lighter chicken burger as a palate cleanser to end the meal), closed my eyes and bit down.
Just 5 minutes later and there was nothing left. You know that instantaneous feeling of regret that you get as soon as you've done something you shouldn't - hit the cricket ball straight towards the window, sculled the remaining vodka in the bottle, slept with your mate's sister - I felt none of it.
After no junk food of any kind for around 8 months there was no regret, no meat sweats, no purging into the gutter. In fact I felt so good I went to the Cas, met up with Mia on her 21st bday along with a bunch of the old Guild crew (who had also conned their way into a Gold Coast junket) and drank solidly for another 5 hours.
Since that night I haven't indulged again. So in the last 11 months I have eaten food from one major chain fast food store, and I've got very few urges to do so once more.
Unless I go back to the fucking Gold Coast, of course.
#3
#3: Grow a beard
5 long, itchy, delicious, disgusting, hobo-like months and this is what I managed to come up with. Pathetic.
Although it somehow looks a lot better than the creepy 'after' photo
yuck.
5 long, itchy, delicious, disgusting, hobo-like months and this is what I managed to come up with. Pathetic.
Although it somehow looks a lot better than the creepy 'after' photo
 |
| Before |
 |
| After |
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
fan fiction
For those not in the know, fan fiction has always essentially been a made up story based on someone famous. More recently we adapted it to take the piss out of friends, family and ourselves. So if you've got a lot of time to burn, here are 4 different perspectives from 4 different authors, and their views on my travels.
#1
Chris relaxed on the couch, thoroughly enjoying the second State of Origin match on tv at his new house in Brisbane. It would be fair to say that Chris had been enjoying many new things in his life lately.
He was loving the freedom that came with being an official tennant for the first time. Sure, he missed his parents having dinner waiting on the table every night when he got home and actually having to pay rent was far ideal, but it was a small price to pay for the ability to live the dream, as he frequently told anyone who would listen.
He smiled as his whacky Chilean housemate started up another grating acoustic rock ballad on his guitar. It was great having such diverse housemates, and the thin walls of the house meant that they always felt connected to one another. It was true that they weren't exactly the life of the party when he did manage to get them out on the town, but gee it was nice to hang out with a crew who were different to his Perth friends. Besides, Chris religiously checked Facebook after each and every weekend to see what his hometown mates had been up to, and he was sure they weren't having anywhere near as much fun as when he was around - at least that was what he assumed as he couldn't be certain since he no longer understood any of their in jokes.
But the best part of his move was definitely his new job. He really had been getting sick and tired of getting the same generous pay cheque each week without ever really stretching himself, personally or professionally. Whereas now that he was promoting online grocery sales door to door he was really making a difference. It hardly mattered that he was earning a relative pittance, working long hours and getting abused regularly. Because it was his love of fresh and convenient groceries, delivered for free to your door on mondays and thursdays, that really got him out of bed in the morning.
Yes, life was good. Now he just had to work out what the fuck the rules were for this stupid fucking sport and it would be perfect.
#2
Chris Hassen had just spent the last 6 months living in a van, and he was fucking done!
This morning he was up at 7 for his new job, and he loved it. the simple act of doing the same thing every morning for 5 days in a row was something that had become alien to chris. The novelty of a van wake up in another fucking rural setting with some european bro had worn off about as quickly as that shitty weed those europeans always had.
Chris surveyed his immaculately neat room, everything was ordered and where it should be... not like in that fucking van. Chris walked into the kitchen, there was a stoned chilean bro in the loungeroom laughing his box off at kids tv. 'Hey Chris!' the chilean bro said excitedly 'You wanna go for a surf today?' FUCK NO CUNT shouted chris as he threw the mount franklin bong at the chilean bro. YOU KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO SURF EVERY DAY FOR 6 MONTHS??? ITS FUCKIN SHIT!!" .......FUCK THE OCEAN!' .......'clean your shit up' chris said finally as he calmed down a bit, 'and get a fucking job'
Chris walked out the house.. satisfied... he was driven and ready for another day of hustling housewives for his fruit n veg dealer
#3
#4
Chris Hassen, self unemployed visionary, was driving his camper van along the New South Wales coast. After putting a surfing clinic for the locals at Coolum Beach that morning, he was now looking for next caravan park full of new friends that he could talk to about his days' surfing. Chris loved to tell stories to anyone who would listen. His favourite story of course was how an educated, talented, young guy had come to be in his current situation. Of course Chris knew that you can't just jump in with your back story as in "Hi I''m Chris...so anyway i decided to sell everything I own, buy a van and travel for year.." He knew it was important to be ask a few questions about themselves first otherwise you would come across as a massive jerk. The answers to these questions seemed unimportant, particularly once he decided that he didn't want to bang them any more. However, he would still always enjoy telling them his story not matter how ugly they were.
Chris was in a constant battle between wanting to have sex and the ability to convincingly tell a good story. He knew that in order to tell people that he was 'living the dream' without a care in the world, he needed to look like he didn't care. For this reason he had not trimmed his hair in a about a year nor shaved in almost as long. Also weather permitting, he didn't wear shoes. To a large extent he didn't actually care. Despite the fact that he knew that his beard looked like shit, he was confident that his allure and ability to tell a great story would tempt the girls into his van like a paedophile with candy.
Having arrived at a caravan park in Barina, Chris was quick to identify a group of young Polish girls. "This spot will do quite nicely" he thought to himself as reversed in to ensure that side door opened up on the same side as the girls' tent. Chris and the girls then spent the next few hours trading stories whilst they smashed back some beverages. They were even joined by some other backpackers from exotic places like Brazil and Morocco as well as not so exotic places such as England and Adelaide. Chris knew that his stories were better than anyone else's. However he all let them have a turn to telling one just so his would look better in comparison.
The night was going well. He had one of the Polish girls right where he wanted her. It was just the two of them at that moment drinking together as the others had gone to bed. He had her eating out of his hand whilst he fed her a story about a bridge in Tasmania that he had jumped off. Then, out of no-where, one of the English dudes came over and put his arm around the girl. Not wanting to look like the jerk, he didn't say anything. Instead leaned back in his chair, and gleamed at the English wanker whilst all the time sipping his beverage through a straw. The conversation had dried up. The Polish girl didn't care for Chris' stories any more. Not even the one about 4 hour pork belly that cooked some nights before. She was more interested in the English fuckwit stroking her leg. Chris intentional stayed longer than he knew he should have. Hoping that the awkwardness of him being there may at least prevent the other guy from having sex that night. It didn't. Alone, he kicked the ground as he walked back to his van.
"FUCKIN SLUT!" he punched side panel as he returned to van in what was a rare display of anger. "What the fuck is that girl thinking!" Chris thought to himself. For he knew that he was cooler and more interesting than that English dude. Sure the other guy was more tanned despite only being here for 3 weeks, but he dressed like a douche, was clean shaven and had fucking gel in his hair. Who the fuck gives a shit about what they look like when travelling in a camper van?
Frustrated at the prospect of yet another night of involuntary abstinence, Chris slammed the door after he stepped inside his abode. Alone, depressed and drunk, Chris was not thinking straight. He picked up his sharpest knife and hacked off a chunk of his beard. Immediately, he stopped and looked at the his clenched fist. He opened his palm slowly to reveal the long fiery strands of hair that once occupied the left cheek of his face. Looking up he stared into his pale reflection on the side window of his van. A solitary tear dripped from his eye. He felt the weight of the knife again in his hands and for a couple of seconds he considered slicing his wrists. However, in a moment of clarity he realised that the beard would grow back and that if he killed himself, how were the people of the world meant to hear about him 'living the dream'. So instead he fried up some chorizo, eggplant and mushrooms for some late night tapas.
The next morning Chris awoke knowing that he somehow made an arse of himself but without any real solid recollection of how or why. Considering it for the best, he threw on his captain's hat and left the caravan park heading up the coast. All the time looking to find Australia's best break to surf, mountain to climb, beer can to drink, German hitch-hiker to root or any other story who could imagine as he crosses things off his list.
Apologies to Max Lavergne. For true a lesson on fan fiction check out his efforts on http://reallyreallyreallytrying.tumblr.com/
#1
Chris relaxed on the couch, thoroughly enjoying the second State of Origin match on tv at his new house in Brisbane. It would be fair to say that Chris had been enjoying many new things in his life lately.
He was loving the freedom that came with being an official tennant for the first time. Sure, he missed his parents having dinner waiting on the table every night when he got home and actually having to pay rent was far ideal, but it was a small price to pay for the ability to live the dream, as he frequently told anyone who would listen.
He smiled as his whacky Chilean housemate started up another grating acoustic rock ballad on his guitar. It was great having such diverse housemates, and the thin walls of the house meant that they always felt connected to one another. It was true that they weren't exactly the life of the party when he did manage to get them out on the town, but gee it was nice to hang out with a crew who were different to his Perth friends. Besides, Chris religiously checked Facebook after each and every weekend to see what his hometown mates had been up to, and he was sure they weren't having anywhere near as much fun as when he was around - at least that was what he assumed as he couldn't be certain since he no longer understood any of their in jokes.
But the best part of his move was definitely his new job. He really had been getting sick and tired of getting the same generous pay cheque each week without ever really stretching himself, personally or professionally. Whereas now that he was promoting online grocery sales door to door he was really making a difference. It hardly mattered that he was earning a relative pittance, working long hours and getting abused regularly. Because it was his love of fresh and convenient groceries, delivered for free to your door on mondays and thursdays, that really got him out of bed in the morning.
Yes, life was good. Now he just had to work out what the fuck the rules were for this stupid fucking sport and it would be perfect.
#2
Chris Hassen had just spent the last 6 months living in a van, and he was fucking done!
This morning he was up at 7 for his new job, and he loved it. the simple act of doing the same thing every morning for 5 days in a row was something that had become alien to chris. The novelty of a van wake up in another fucking rural setting with some european bro had worn off about as quickly as that shitty weed those europeans always had.
Chris surveyed his immaculately neat room, everything was ordered and where it should be... not like in that fucking van. Chris walked into the kitchen, there was a stoned chilean bro in the loungeroom laughing his box off at kids tv. 'Hey Chris!' the chilean bro said excitedly 'You wanna go for a surf today?' FUCK NO CUNT shouted chris as he threw the mount franklin bong at the chilean bro. YOU KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO SURF EVERY DAY FOR 6 MONTHS??? ITS FUCKIN SHIT!!" .......FUCK THE OCEAN!' .......'clean your shit up' chris said finally as he calmed down a bit, 'and get a fucking job'
Chris walked out the house.. satisfied... he was driven and ready for another day of hustling housewives for his fruit n veg dealer
#3
Chris awoke and stretched out in bed, at least, stretched out as much as could be achieved in a campervan. Yes his living quarters were small and cramped, yes he had been woken by the sun at 6am again, yes the girl lying next to him was another average looking, unshowered European......but none of this mattered, as far as he was concerned he was living the dream.
The real world could wait, thought Chris to himself, for the the 5th time that morning, as he pulled on his hippy pants. For the time being he had dreams, big, ambitious dreams, like working in a pub, surfing at least once more, growing his hair even longer and eventually being a stay at home son until his parents died and he took up squatters rights in their generous Applecross home.
#4
Chris Hassen, self unemployed visionary, was driving his camper van along the New South Wales coast. After putting a surfing clinic for the locals at Coolum Beach that morning, he was now looking for next caravan park full of new friends that he could talk to about his days' surfing. Chris loved to tell stories to anyone who would listen. His favourite story of course was how an educated, talented, young guy had come to be in his current situation. Of course Chris knew that you can't just jump in with your back story as in "Hi I''m Chris...so anyway i decided to sell everything I own, buy a van and travel for year.." He knew it was important to be ask a few questions about themselves first otherwise you would come across as a massive jerk. The answers to these questions seemed unimportant, particularly once he decided that he didn't want to bang them any more. However, he would still always enjoy telling them his story not matter how ugly they were.
Chris was in a constant battle between wanting to have sex and the ability to convincingly tell a good story. He knew that in order to tell people that he was 'living the dream' without a care in the world, he needed to look like he didn't care. For this reason he had not trimmed his hair in a about a year nor shaved in almost as long. Also weather permitting, he didn't wear shoes. To a large extent he didn't actually care. Despite the fact that he knew that his beard looked like shit, he was confident that his allure and ability to tell a great story would tempt the girls into his van like a paedophile with candy.
Having arrived at a caravan park in Barina, Chris was quick to identify a group of young Polish girls. "This spot will do quite nicely" he thought to himself as reversed in to ensure that side door opened up on the same side as the girls' tent. Chris and the girls then spent the next few hours trading stories whilst they smashed back some beverages. They were even joined by some other backpackers from exotic places like Brazil and Morocco as well as not so exotic places such as England and Adelaide. Chris knew that his stories were better than anyone else's. However he all let them have a turn to telling one just so his would look better in comparison.
The night was going well. He had one of the Polish girls right where he wanted her. It was just the two of them at that moment drinking together as the others had gone to bed. He had her eating out of his hand whilst he fed her a story about a bridge in Tasmania that he had jumped off. Then, out of no-where, one of the English dudes came over and put his arm around the girl. Not wanting to look like the jerk, he didn't say anything. Instead leaned back in his chair, and gleamed at the English wanker whilst all the time sipping his beverage through a straw. The conversation had dried up. The Polish girl didn't care for Chris' stories any more. Not even the one about 4 hour pork belly that cooked some nights before. She was more interested in the English fuckwit stroking her leg. Chris intentional stayed longer than he knew he should have. Hoping that the awkwardness of him being there may at least prevent the other guy from having sex that night. It didn't. Alone, he kicked the ground as he walked back to his van.
"FUCKIN SLUT!" he punched side panel as he returned to van in what was a rare display of anger. "What the fuck is that girl thinking!" Chris thought to himself. For he knew that he was cooler and more interesting than that English dude. Sure the other guy was more tanned despite only being here for 3 weeks, but he dressed like a douche, was clean shaven and had fucking gel in his hair. Who the fuck gives a shit about what they look like when travelling in a camper van?
Frustrated at the prospect of yet another night of involuntary abstinence, Chris slammed the door after he stepped inside his abode. Alone, depressed and drunk, Chris was not thinking straight. He picked up his sharpest knife and hacked off a chunk of his beard. Immediately, he stopped and looked at the his clenched fist. He opened his palm slowly to reveal the long fiery strands of hair that once occupied the left cheek of his face. Looking up he stared into his pale reflection on the side window of his van. A solitary tear dripped from his eye. He felt the weight of the knife again in his hands and for a couple of seconds he considered slicing his wrists. However, in a moment of clarity he realised that the beard would grow back and that if he killed himself, how were the people of the world meant to hear about him 'living the dream'. So instead he fried up some chorizo, eggplant and mushrooms for some late night tapas.
The next morning Chris awoke knowing that he somehow made an arse of himself but without any real solid recollection of how or why. Considering it for the best, he threw on his captain's hat and left the caravan park heading up the coast. All the time looking to find Australia's best break to surf, mountain to climb, beer can to drink, German hitch-hiker to root or any other story who could imagine as he crosses things off his list.
Apologies to Max Lavergne. For true a lesson on fan fiction check out his efforts on http://reallyreallyreallytrying.tumblr.com/
Thursday, May 19, 2011
# 24
#24: Help a stranger with mechanical problems
My dad is pretty much the King of Tradies. I'm not. But I can do a basic oil change and am pretty convinving at poking around at some random bit under the bonnet and saying "nah, that's fine. Problem's gotta be somewhere else", in my best I-totally-know-what-I'm-talking-about voice. So I figured that since I was driving the entire way around a pretty damn big country, and seeing as its something I've never done, helping someone out with mechanical problems would get a guernsey on the List.
In an ideal world I would have crossed this one off by stopping for a couple of hot Swiss chicks stranded in the middle of the desert who would have repaid my mechanical aptitude with much love and affection, rather than two middle aged dudes in the middle of Coffs Harbour suburbia, but I guess you've gotta take what you can get. Anyways, one of these guys was standing next to their car literally scratching his head, so I figured this was my time to shine.
Turned out they had a flat tyre and no jack handle. Did I have one they could possibly borrow? Of course. Did they need anything else? An ingenius contraption made out of pipe cleaners and clothes hangers to hold up their busted muffler? A raw egg and some chewing gum to stop their critically damaged radiator from leaking out everywhere? No? You sure? Fine, whatever. It still counts.
The guys were pretty grateful, and that's fair enough - its not every day your guardian angel rocks up disguised as a van driving ginger hippie. But what got me thinking was this: I've seen lots of people stranded by the side of the road before, but I've never stopped. I always assume there's an RAC guy or a Tradie Dad already on their way, or someone who actually knows what they're doing will stop, or if I stop for them then I won't be able to rescue the two hot Swiss chicks who might be stranded just around the corner. But this time I did stop, and pretty much it was only because of the List.
So as an extension of that, could you say that the Van List is making a difference to the world? Making it a better place for all of us, individually and collectively? Bringing a little bit of light to those who need it most? Well yes, now that you mention it. You could say that.
You're welcome.
My dad is pretty much the King of Tradies. I'm not. But I can do a basic oil change and am pretty convinving at poking around at some random bit under the bonnet and saying "nah, that's fine. Problem's gotta be somewhere else", in my best I-totally-know-what-I'm-talking-about voice. So I figured that since I was driving the entire way around a pretty damn big country, and seeing as its something I've never done, helping someone out with mechanical problems would get a guernsey on the List.
In an ideal world I would have crossed this one off by stopping for a couple of hot Swiss chicks stranded in the middle of the desert who would have repaid my mechanical aptitude with much love and affection, rather than two middle aged dudes in the middle of Coffs Harbour suburbia, but I guess you've gotta take what you can get. Anyways, one of these guys was standing next to their car literally scratching his head, so I figured this was my time to shine.
Turned out they had a flat tyre and no jack handle. Did I have one they could possibly borrow? Of course. Did they need anything else? An ingenius contraption made out of pipe cleaners and clothes hangers to hold up their busted muffler? A raw egg and some chewing gum to stop their critically damaged radiator from leaking out everywhere? No? You sure? Fine, whatever. It still counts.
The guys were pretty grateful, and that's fair enough - its not every day your guardian angel rocks up disguised as a van driving ginger hippie. But what got me thinking was this: I've seen lots of people stranded by the side of the road before, but I've never stopped. I always assume there's an RAC guy or a Tradie Dad already on their way, or someone who actually knows what they're doing will stop, or if I stop for them then I won't be able to rescue the two hot Swiss chicks who might be stranded just around the corner. But this time I did stop, and pretty much it was only because of the List.
So as an extension of that, could you say that the Van List is making a difference to the world? Making it a better place for all of us, individually and collectively? Bringing a little bit of light to those who need it most? Well yes, now that you mention it. You could say that.
You're welcome.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Highs and Lows
Its been a fair while since I last did a generic what's been going on post. So here goes, broken down into mini journeys along with their highlights and lowlights.
Melbourne - Canberra
I spent maybe a week between leaving Mat's place in Melbs and arrivng at Kirby's in Canberra, via Snowy River National Park and Mt Kosciuszko.
Highs: Golden Plains Festival (see previous recipe entry), Beautiful scenery and campsites around Kosciuszko, an excellent day's drive from Vic to NSW, following the Snowy River
Lows: Being balls cold every night. Incredibly steep and windy roads that reduced the van to an average of 35k's per hour, and me to a stressed out wreck.
Canberra
Planned on hanging with Kirby for a few day. Stayed for 8. Nothing like free accomodation and good company.
Highs: Catching up with Kirbalicious. One of the best things about this trip is hanging out with old friends and meeting new ones. Kirby is a super top bloke, even if he does work for the government, and his housemates are both super friendly and genuinely lovely people, even if they both work for the government. Other highlights were the War Memorial, National Art Gallery and the National Portrait Gallery. And of course Devi's bday picnic culminating in white water rafting down a river, on a couch.
Lows: Canberra has some pretty cool stuff. It just needs more of it. Much, much more.
Canberra - Sydney
From Canberra I headed down the coast as far as Eden, which is fairly close to the NSW/Vic border. Then spent about a week heading to Sydney.
Highs: Heaps and heaps of amazing small towns with lovely beaches and free or cheap campsites with hardly anyone around.
Lows: Hardly anyone around. Getting called in from a good surf coz some folks in the shallows saw a shark. The surf was good, damnit.
Sydney
Last year I put up Laura (an old lawn bowls acquaintance) for a night when she came over for uni games. This year she repaid the favour by putting me up for 8 nights. I think that's fair.
Highs: Seeing The Herd live. Amazing. Again. Finding a girl who actually liked my hair, and could put up with the beard. Manly and Newtown both rock. Could definitely move to Sydney permanently because of those two suburbs alone. Chinatown and bumming around the CBD in general.
Lows: $86 parking fine for reverse parrallel parking, instead of forward parrallel parking. Seriously?
Sydney - Coffs Harbour
I met Simone, a lovely Scottish lass, in Sydney and we headed up the coast for a week.
Highs: Lots and lots of awesome bays and beaches. Getting some awesome waves and generally chilling out in Treachery Bay. Buying awesome hippy/wrap/fisherman pants. Comfort to the max.
Lows: Weather was a bit temperamental with rain most afternoons. Easter Weekend. Serisouly folks, I have to camp somwhere every single night. I shouldn't have to put up with you and your families coming and crowding out my campsites just so you can get a few days off work. So selfish.
Coffs Harbour
Been staying with my Uncle in the hills just out of Coffs at his beautiful property for the last week. Should be here until mid July when I'm catching up with my sister in Byron.
Highs: Heaps of waves. Seeing Tijuana Cartel in the little hippy town of Belligen.
Lows: Heading back to the van for a quick beer between the support act and Tijuana Cartel, and then waking up 45mins later. Still saw most of the set. I think. Being an unemployed bum is awesome when its by choice, but now i'm looking for work and haven't found any yet, its just annoying. Life is just so damn hard sometimes.
Oh well, better go for another surf...
Melbourne - Canberra
I spent maybe a week between leaving Mat's place in Melbs and arrivng at Kirby's in Canberra, via Snowy River National Park and Mt Kosciuszko.
Highs: Golden Plains Festival (see previous recipe entry), Beautiful scenery and campsites around Kosciuszko, an excellent day's drive from Vic to NSW, following the Snowy River
Lows: Being balls cold every night. Incredibly steep and windy roads that reduced the van to an average of 35k's per hour, and me to a stressed out wreck.
Canberra
Planned on hanging with Kirby for a few day. Stayed for 8. Nothing like free accomodation and good company.
Highs: Catching up with Kirbalicious. One of the best things about this trip is hanging out with old friends and meeting new ones. Kirby is a super top bloke, even if he does work for the government, and his housemates are both super friendly and genuinely lovely people, even if they both work for the government. Other highlights were the War Memorial, National Art Gallery and the National Portrait Gallery. And of course Devi's bday picnic culminating in white water rafting down a river, on a couch.
Lows: Canberra has some pretty cool stuff. It just needs more of it. Much, much more.
Canberra - Sydney
From Canberra I headed down the coast as far as Eden, which is fairly close to the NSW/Vic border. Then spent about a week heading to Sydney.
Highs: Heaps and heaps of amazing small towns with lovely beaches and free or cheap campsites with hardly anyone around.
Lows: Hardly anyone around. Getting called in from a good surf coz some folks in the shallows saw a shark. The surf was good, damnit.
Sydney
Last year I put up Laura (an old lawn bowls acquaintance) for a night when she came over for uni games. This year she repaid the favour by putting me up for 8 nights. I think that's fair.
Highs: Seeing The Herd live. Amazing. Again. Finding a girl who actually liked my hair, and could put up with the beard. Manly and Newtown both rock. Could definitely move to Sydney permanently because of those two suburbs alone. Chinatown and bumming around the CBD in general.
Lows: $86 parking fine for reverse parrallel parking, instead of forward parrallel parking. Seriously?
Sydney - Coffs Harbour
I met Simone, a lovely Scottish lass, in Sydney and we headed up the coast for a week.
Highs: Lots and lots of awesome bays and beaches. Getting some awesome waves and generally chilling out in Treachery Bay. Buying awesome hippy/wrap/fisherman pants. Comfort to the max.
Lows: Weather was a bit temperamental with rain most afternoons. Easter Weekend. Serisouly folks, I have to camp somwhere every single night. I shouldn't have to put up with you and your families coming and crowding out my campsites just so you can get a few days off work. So selfish.
Coffs Harbour
Been staying with my Uncle in the hills just out of Coffs at his beautiful property for the last week. Should be here until mid July when I'm catching up with my sister in Byron.
Highs: Heaps of waves. Seeing Tijuana Cartel in the little hippy town of Belligen.
Lows: Heading back to the van for a quick beer between the support act and Tijuana Cartel, and then waking up 45mins later. Still saw most of the set. I think. Being an unemployed bum is awesome when its by choice, but now i'm looking for work and haven't found any yet, its just annoying. Life is just so damn hard sometimes.
Oh well, better go for another surf...
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