A Smartie way to travel

The first installment of this blog is being drafted on the back of my e-ticket from Kuala Lumpar at Melbourne Airport. I arrived an hour ago and leave the city bound for Byron Bay in less than 4 hours. Not enough time for a hostel but hanging around the airport is far more appealing than hanging around Southern Cross Station on a saturday night! I'm catching a later shuttle to the bus terminal and have a few hours to kill. I have staked out a dusty little corner of the Arrivals Hall and am giving my best 'fuck-off' vibes to anyone who comes near. As of yet, no-one has. Probably because I look like Crazy Lady - my cuddly tiger's head is sticking out of my bag, my hood is up and my sunnies are on (it's 2.30am but the glare in here is awfully bright!) I have breakfasted on green and orange Smarties - it is my understanding that these are of the colour of fruit and vegetables and therefore have a higher nutritional content than their more frivolously decorated counterparts. Also seperating them gave me something to do for 15 minutes and greatly added to my Crazy Lady street cred. Circumstances up to this point have been smooth and clockwork which given my earlier track record with air travel is a pleasant surprise. In fact most of the drama happened before I even left the island....

Firstly, Mastercard took it upon themselves to cancel my card whilst I was in the middle of booking my flights, despite the email I sent them saying I would be in Asia over Christmas. Not such a giant mishap except somehow, either by the fault of Mastercard, Air Asia or myself (and I am laying the blame firmly with the corporations) I ended up paying for my flights twice. It's a bugger to be playing International phone-tag with people who don't seem that bothered about talking to you! I've been assured that it's all sorted but I wait with baited breath for my next statement. Bloody credit cards! In the midst of all this Guy had a motorbike accident which left him smeared across the road until a kindly taxi driver (thank god - a lot of them don't stop to help farangs even when they're unconscious in a gutter) took him to the clinic then shipped him off to Samui. I knew nothing of this until the next day because Guy doesn't think to charge his phone very often. I spent a fraught day and a half trying to find out which hospital he was in and trying to cancel my flights. Luckily before I left he came back in a stolen wheelchair and zoned out of his head on painkillers minus a large chunk of flesh from his knee (we have since concluded that this has probably been eaten by a stray dog which is an odd and disturbing thought!) He wouldn't let me stay (which is kind of good because my flights are non-refundable anyway) but I still feel like a total heel for leaving him in such a state.

In all this confusion I hadn't done anything about leaving.This shouldn't come as a surprise though as I hate packing as much as I hate New Year. Also I still hadn't sold my equipment which was starting to panic me. I eventually bullied Eemeli into buying my regs but apart from a fun diver who seemed keen then let me down at the last minute, my BCD is still mine. Actually I am pleased about this as regs will come and go but my BCD fits me like a glove and I adore everything about it - from the zippy pockets, to the shiny silver D-rings, to the MARES logo on the side which I changed to spell ARSE! So anyway, on Thursday night at about 3.30am I realise I leave the island in 6 hours and am totally locked. With no recollection of getting home, I wake up a mere 90 minutes later with a pair of knickers in my hand and a criss-cross pattern on my cheek from where I had used my backpack as a pillow. Evidence suggests a late night attempt of bag stuffing. After standing up too quickly and then vomiting copiously I finish the job with shaking hands and wobbly knees. I spent the next 3 hours in the clutches of a motherfucker of a hangover dashing all over the island saying goodbyes, posting parcels, buying a dive bag, trying to dry my equipment with a hairdryer, collecting debts, paying debts and trying not to think about how sick I will be on the boat. With a collective effort - I could never have done it if the DM Team hadn't ditched their normal duties and pitched in - I caught the boat and promptly passed out thus negating any chance of seasickness! Result! By the time we got to Chumphon though, my hangover had matured into a dull but constant agony of brain and stomach. Wobbling around the port I begged some TravelCalms off of a similarly wearisome backpacker and braced myself for the 10hour bus ride to Bangers. I need not have worried. Not only did I get two seats to myself so I was able to stretch out somewhat I was also strategically close to the onbaord toilet. The journey was uneventful - I slept most of the way. Some 5 hours after arriving in the Capital I was on the move again. Despite previous problems concerning visas and Air Asia I had no hassle catching my flight to Kuala Lumpar this time and spent the journey with a whole row to myself (what had I done to warrant such luck?!) I reached Malaysia with heaps of time to catch my connection to Melbourne, the only concern being what the Duty Free lady thought of my when I bought a Family Bag of Smarties, a Family Size Toblerone and a big bag of Milka chocolates (hopefully she thinks they're gifts) and when I spilt Beef Rendang all down my jumper. The flight was terminally long and boring. In my drunken haste I left one of my books on koh Tao and only had one more which I finished in under 3 hours! I hope there is a bookstore at Southern Cross or I shall be dead bored on the bus! Have to stop for a break now as my hand is cramping. Also seem to have eaten all the blue Smarties without realising (is this the beginning of OCD I wonder?) but it's ok because everyone knows that blue is the colour of water and so those ones don't contain any calories at all....

It's now 7.50pm in Sydney and I am sitting on the floor outside Central Station wondering if I can can discreetly fish out the Smartie that I have just dropped down my bra by mistake. I don't no what colour it is. That is no longer important. I am now chucking them back with abandon trying to ease a stressful situation. I have now got to sit on the street until well after dark until my connecting bus arrives. At present I am all alone and feel like the city's No. 1 hobo....oh no, wait....here he comes now and is rooting through the bin infront of me. Nice.

Didn't get mugged or murdered at central Station and am now in Byron after a hell of a long bus journey. It's taken me 3 days to get here and I am lost and lonely and waiting to check into my room. When I came through the town it seemed like a million people are here before me and I can't possibly believe that there will ever be a job available for me. So much for my retarded instinct telling me to come here first! IDIOT!!!! Am exhausted and seriously toying with the idea of cutting my losses and coming home.