I spent the first week in Australia in Sydney for a wedding. I didn’t have much time to tour the city but I managed to see the main attractions, darling harbor, the ferry, some nightlife, Bondi beach area and some more. Australia is America in some sort of twisted Bizarro world. In most cases any major city is a bit different than the rest of the country it belongs to, and Sydney was no different. The girls were a bit snobby, the wedding party was clique, and the friends and community in Australia were ass holes. The groom and brides families were amazing and I was warmly welcomed and felt like part of the family. The wedding was beautiful, the hotel was nice, I got to wind down from my trip, relax, reload and ready for a packed schedule, of doing, driving, seeing, and adventure.

My opinion about Australians’ is kind of split. Australia’s economy is built on mining, they have one of the strongest economies, low unemployment, tons of resources, and a great welfare system. However the country is built on blue collar work and its citizens are all fairly “simple”. Coming from America where we exemplify the stereo type of the “ignorant American” it seems like kind of a pot kettle situation, but we also have another intellectual, artistic, innovative, creative side to us that exports, ideas, advancements, and almost everything the world relies on. I don’t see that kind of motivation here. I also feel like Australians have a sinister side behind all their cheer and niceness. It’s as if there’s an underlying current of Jekyll and Hyde personality, ready to snap at any second, and tell you to fuck off, because you said something they don’t like.

Daydream Island/ farm/ Fraser Island/ Noosa Beach

After two nights on a sail boat I was ready for a real bed. I was treated to resort accommodations, a pool party at night, and another reminder I was in a special place in the world, with most of the country being protected, unpolluted, and clean.

The following two nights accommodations were not that special. I finally figured out why they call it the “Outback” and that’s because the toilets were Out- Back, and not in my room where it should have been. We spent the night on a 65,000 acre farm. We had nothing to do but drink, and for their first time ever we cleaned them out of all wine. We had tons of bottles of wine, we had a karaoke night, and I did something I rarely ever do in my life, I participated! I sang Eagles Hotel California, and although I usually consider others fortunate that I don’t do this more often, I sounded pretty good this time.

Fraser Island was fantastic. We slept in these bungalow type houses on top of the rain forest. We had great food; we hung out at this dance club, where everyone got crazy, since we stocked up on bottles of booze before where it was cheap. I met these wonderful French/English travelers, and we danced for hours. I usually dance with a purpose, and dancing is just a means to an end, there is nothing fun about dancing, but every once in a while I can actually have fun at it and this was one of those times. I still don’t get the appeal of doing an epileptic type of exercise, in middle of the floor, in front of tons of strangers, judging you, watching you, and very eager to mock you, should you be unfortunate enough to lack rhythm or be clumsy. Although I am told I am not bad at it, I don’t feel like I am good enough or feel comfortable being judged.

We spent the next night in lodge type accommodations in Noosa Beach, and having my own bathroom now seemed like a luxury. It’s ironic how I spent a month in third world countries, in awesome accommodations and not once did I share a bathroom, while in a fully developed country I was stuck sharing bathrooms, living with ants, and sleeping with twelve people in a room. We went out to the surfers club, which is a non-profit organization responsible for beach safety and rescue. They have rescued almost a million people since 1907 and there are over three hundred clubs in this country. It was a strictly volunteer program, but then again who wouldn’t want to volunteer to patrol gorgeous beaches, with scantily clad woman, while on jet skis, being called on to do mouth to mouth on some helpless tourist, and being a hero in the process. I imagine it can’t be too hard asking a girl out on a date, right after you just saved her life. Furthermore, I assume owing someone your life gives you a guilt incentive to put out.

Byron Bay -Surfers Paradise – -Surf Camp

I am on the bus for the last time, finishing up Australia in Sydney and heading to New Zealand. As usual in the interest of keeping this from becoming a Lonely Planet guide, and maintaining a personal perspective, I will briefly describe the last three stops. Byron Bay is a small beach town, all run by Hippies. Australians are not as into drugs as Americans, so the hippies were a lot more sober and a lot less authentic, but they had their Vegan food, and they had their tantric massages, and a very loving environment. Surfers Paradise is just that! The highlight of the trip was surf camp. We stayed over in this beautiful oasis away from civilization right on the beach. It was a settlement with mobile homes run by surfers and dedicated to teaching surfing. These were life loving, laid back surfers dudes, who dedicated their lives to catching waves, taking it easy, and not succumbing to the capitalist dream, and responsibility. They are all pretty much broke, and when I bought a bottle of Vodka and started giving out drinks, I became more popular than Uncle Sam. Had I known I can purchase that much gratitude and popularity with a bottle of Vodka, I would have bought them cases. I was wrapping up my Australia part and was trying to think about anything exciting that I learned or stood out besides my 6”7 350 pound bus driver named Horse, and can’t seem to think of anything. Horse was nicknamed so not because he is hung like one apparently, but because he’s as big as one. When I asked him how he got that nickname he responded jokingly that he used to be a jockey, and I joked that I wasn’t aware they race elephants, which even if they did, someone his size riding them would be a case of animal cruelty.

Australia was amazing overall and surf camp was the perfect culmination to it all. I sat on the plane headed to New Zealand and, contemplated all that I learned. I couldn’t come up with anything of substance, but I now had in depth knowledge about a country so remote and far away, that it started as a prison camp for British criminals, and now looked exactly like America. I learned Australians loved to drink almost as much as they liked talking about it. I learned that Aussies like adding an “ies” to all words to create one word out of two, like sunnies (sunglasses) cosies (bathing suit), boardies (board shorts), undies (self-explanatory) dunnies (toilets), they call flip flops thongs, they call thongs G-bangers, they put the word banger on many words unless its gang banging which is just plain Monday sex, or gang related violence which they call Rugby. They love the sun, they hate the Kiwis, their sense of humor allows them to make fun of themselves but not laugh, and they consider themselves Americas little brother, while we consider them distant relatives. I learned that America is not as hated as people think,  but most importantly I learned that I prefer Australians to Canadians.