Cairns. The final destination. We arrived excited to see our Fraser Family and new found friends from up the coast. The crazy aunts were back in town, fresh from a couple of relaxing days in Townsville and Magnetic Island. We got off to a flying start when we boarded our bus to Cairns and Captain No Fun was nowhere in sight. The driver actually smiled. I did a double take.
We were in Cairns for a week and if we’re honest it’s all a bit of a blur. The last party, the big reunion and my 30th. We couldn’t wait to play out with all of our children. We knew we were at the correct hostel because we could smell Ed’s towel. Everyone in Cairns could smell it. If we’d have had our nasal passages removed we’d still have been able to smell it. It was alarming. And it became even more alarming when Felix and his frightfully- posh- triple- barrel –name- that- no one- can -pronounce shoved it over my face and held it there. I swear I passed out on the spot and woke up a week later gasping for air. What worried me most was that Ed actually dried himself with it after he’d showered. He may as well have jumped in shit. Honestly, they could use that towel as a torture device- one sniff and you’re a gonner. Anyway, enough about Ed’s towel, I’m going to introduce you to our Fraser Family, mainly because they’re all gagging for a piece of the blog action. Please also note that all of the descriptions below are based on hard factual evidence.
Ed and Felix – They’re frightfully posh and use words like ‘alarmingly’ and ‘pinkie finger’. Ed has a towel that stinks (if you hadn’t already gathered this) and he’s posh but not as posh as Felix who has the triple- barrel –name- that- no one- can –pronounce. Ed also speaks about 12 different languages, or he thinks he does.
Chris and Ben – They like me to stick my fingers up their bum. They don’t admit to this but it’s true, they love it. In that respect they’ve got nothing going for them, because enjoying a finger up the bum is just weird…
Sanne and Fennie – that’s Fennie not Fannie, don’t get them mixed up. They’re Dutch (I think) and like to spoon. Sanne wears cool clothes but she won’t give me any…bitch. Fennie – she’s turned into the family hairdresser. Want a bowl head? She’s your girl. She can even colour it if you give her some paint.
Nicky and Mark – Mark can neck a pint faster than Lyvette can run away from a flying thing (and that’s pretty fast because if a flying thing is in sight she’ll give Usain Bolt a run for his money). Nicky is a vegetarian – she got alarmingly upset at the goldfish racing when the contestants whipped out straws and began to blow air up the fishes bottoms.
Paul – I think he might be Dutch too although I’d have to clarify this, mainly because I’m not actually sure what country Dutch people are from. All I know is that Paul left his hoodie and messaged us to say Felix could have it. What the actual f**k?! Does he not know how much myself and Lyvette love other people clothes?! That was really selfish of the maybe Dutch guy.
And then there’s me and Lyvette, but you already know about us, the crazy aunts. We’re pretty posh as well. I’ve even given myself a triple barrel name, now we know it’s an actual thing.
Henceforth I will be known as Heather Jack De Son.
So the week started with a night out that no one remembers. All I know is that the French guys in our room had a ‘share bag’ of clothes that I had my eye on. Then Ed didn’t know which bed he wanted to sleep in, “I simply don’t know where to rest thy head. It’s like an orgy of choices!” What? An orgy? Of choices? I can’t even comprehend how that sentence would even work, even if you are posh. Maybe you should sleep on the other side of Cairns Ed. AND TAKE YOUR TOWEL WITH YOU.
The Great Barrier Reef. We’d heard bad things about this. Everyone told us it was overrated but I still wanted to do it so I booked onto the same boat as Nicky and Mark and the Bristol girls from Whitsundays. When I walked onto the boat and it smelt like Ed’s towel I did began to doubt my decision. But it was amazing. I now like coral. It’s alarmingly beautiful if I may say so myself. I dived with the Bristolians and it was going well until the instructor held my hand. I was not happy. Why is that even necessary? So I spent the next 20 minutes trying to detangle my fingers from his. Then he nearly yanked my arm off. I’d been so busy avoiding the hand holding I’d stopped moving and accidentally lay on the coral, beaching myself and my hand holding instructor had decided that I was ruining a natural wonder of the world, hence the ferocious hand yanking. It was all his fault. My hands are out of bounds.
Back on the boat and the Bristolians (I realise this may not be an actual word but I quite like it) decided my eyebrows were disgusting.
Beth: “When did you last pluck them?”
Me: “A few days ago?”
Abbie: “They’re disgusting”
Jo: “It’s like the McDonalds ‘M’”
Beth: “I just can’t stop looking at them. They need sorting. NOW.” She’s a beauty therapist and apparently my eyebrows were offensive to her. I don’t really get the big deal, I mean they’re just eyebrows and I’m a traveller for pities sake.
When we got home they pinned me down and waxed my brows. This was after Mark and Nicky had done a runner with a bag full of cheese they’d nicked from the boat. So off we ran with Mark juggling his cheese cubes, my monstrous eyebrows bouncing around and the Bristolians slagging off my beauty regime.
Onto another night out. Room 213 was our pre drinking room and we got issued a few warnings for being too loud and taking alcohol into the room. Shrek the bouncer kept coming in and confiscating the booze. Not even Ed’s towel could deter him. The final warning came when Paul decided to saunter past Shrek whilst clutching a bottle of vodka. It was a very discreet move. Clearly. I tried to woo Shrek by flashing my newly shaped brows but to be honest, he didn’t give a shit.
Then things got a bit more intoxicated and the group message, aptly named ‘Finger Me’ (you will only understand this if you have read the Fraser Island blog) became a string of drunken auto corrects;
On the what with the who???! Ohhhh, you mean you’re on the ‘dance floor with the Swedish girls’…
Then Felix slapped Fennie’s ass before realising that he actually hadn’t slapped Fennie’s ass. He realised this when he got a slap in the face from some alarmingly irritated girl. Then Ed spoke French and apparently said something quite funny as the French guys laughed. Chris looked on in amazement at them howling, “Ed must actually be quite funny in other languages…he’s just in the wrong crowd”. Then we had another Moo Off and I had a tough Finish opponent. We later heard mooing sounds echoing down the corridor. The Moo off went viral, it will most definitely be taken back to Finland.
Then I got gonorrhea. Not actual gonorrhea (because I obviously wouldn’t put that in a blog) but gonorrhea of my throat. This started a few years back and it is triggered by playing the Moo game. Basically my throat packs up and dies and I can’t speak (people usually love it when I have gonorrhea). The Fraser Family had already made a team decision that we all needed to get gonorrhea by the time we left Cairns. We have good squad goals. Even the posh boys wanted it. Maybe gonorrhea just went up market. I mean imagine Felix and his triple- barrel –name- that- no one- can –pronounce ringing his mum to tell her the news;
“Hello mother, I have some alarmingly bad news. In the city of Cairns I contracted a bout of gonorrhea. My vocal cords are frightfully strained right now. In fact I think I may have developed nodules, send my butler over to feed me some grapes”.
Then Chris decided he was going to get a tattoo of a koala giving us the finger on his bum. What a nob. Naturally I didn’t say this, I was intrigued. So he booked the appointment and paid the deposit.
“I really want a tattoo on my bum. Yeah I definitely do. For sure. It wont even hurt. I’m not even nervous. I really want a tattoo of a koala giving the finger on my backside. It’s such a cool thing to do”.
Yeah, you’re right who wouldn’t want a koala on their arse?
Then he got to the tattoo parlour and pooed his pants. I got the giggles.
“Is this a really stupid thing to do?” A koala on your arse? Nah. It’s great for bants…
Luckily Lyvette and Ben became the voice of reason and Chris realised he was an idiot. So he had to ‘chase’ the tattoo man down the street to tell him he’d bottled it and the koala was no longer necessary. Naturally he was a bit embarrassed about doing this and dilly dallied a tad and we watched as Chris managed to walk slower than the man with a limp. On a positive note his bottom is still free from marsupials.
On my actual birthday Lyvette and I went to Cape Tribulation rainforest. The drive there was amazing, personally I think it beats the Great Ocean Road. That was where we went chasing crocs and our theory that salt water crocodiles are nasty pieces of work was confirmed. This was a bit of an emotional trip because the next day, after 11 months of travelling me and Lyvette were splitting up. She was headed to Perth to visit family and I was going to do farm work for a 2nd year visa.
The worst part of Cairns was saying goodbye, numerous times, but that’s part and parcel of travelling I guess. Myself and Lyvette are hoping to meet up again in a few months to continue our adventures, but in the meantime she’s been very considerate and allowed me to have full responsibility of the blog…
And that was the grande finale. We met up with friends, I celebrated my birthday for an entire week (probably a month if we include the whole East Coast), Chris didn’t get a koala on his backside and we all contracted gonorrhea. The East Coast was an absolute ball, we met some fab people and now everyone has gone their separate ways either home, working or further travels.
One thing’s for sure, I’m frightfully relieved that Ed’s towel is now located in Fiji, a good 3000km’s away from me…
