80 Gays Around the World

So if you'll hold my hand, we both shall walk more steadily

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sun, 23 Aug 2015 17:48:00 +0000

So if you'll hold my hand, we both shall walk more steadily

So if you'll hold my hand

My first full day in Lisbon. The day sunny and there were clear blue skies so I was determined to make the most of it. The temperature was in the mid teens, shorts weather for me, trousers and coat weather for the locals. I knew I would look like a tourist but I was used to that after nearly 10 months of travelling. I had coffee and breakfast at Dirceu and Andre’s. They hadn’t surfaced by the time I left (although I was out the door before 9am) so I left a note saying I had gone out for the day and would see them later. I headed out for a walk armed with a map of the city, my camera, Dean & Horse, Ramon and Jango.

The Botanical Gardens were the first thing on my itinerary for the day, handily located just at the end of the road I was staying on. I hadn’t done any research on whether they were worth a visit but I figured for the €2 entrance fee I could take a gamble on them being worth it. I seemed to have the Gardens to myself for quite a while and enjoyed the peace and quiet as I walked around taking photos of various plants and trees that looked slightly rude (at least to me). I spent about an hour or so at the Gardens, timing my departure to coincide the arrival of what seemed like, from the noise levels, several hundred schoolchildren.

I wandered down through the centre of Lisbon taking in the little cobbled streets and tiled buildings, through the large Rossio square with its patterned pavements bringing back memories of Rio de Janeiro and up to the Castelo de São Jorge. I’d been to the Castelo on my previous visit to Lisbon with Rui but we had spent the time walking round chatting rather than actual sightseeing before stopping at the café for a drink. This time I did it the tourist way, collecting the guide from the office on the way in and reading up on the history of the place. The highlight of the visit however was seeing a peacock up a tree at the Castelo who had clearly taken a dislike to some tourists and pooping on one of them.

After a late lunch in the sun I wandered back through the town before heading back to Dirceu and Andre’s. Once back I checked my messages. Some family friends had sent a message saying they would soon be on holiday down in the south of Spain and I would be more than welcome to join them. I checked my itinerary. After Lisbon I was headed to Madrid where I had a gay lined up. I then had a bit of a gap until my next gay who I would be staying with in in Italy. I worked out I could probably fit in a quick trip to Granada, then see the family friends and head back up to Barcelona for a couple of days. I set about booking travel between the various places using Skyscanner to check for the best prices. The prices for flights from Madrid to Granada seemed to be ridiculously expensive and I couldn’t see why. It took me a while to realise I was looking at flights to Grenada, not Granada. How I had gone 9 months without ending up in the wrong place on my travels was beyond me.

By the time the travel admin was all sorted it was early evening and the sun was just starting to set. I grabbed my camera and headed out to get some photos of the sun setting. I arrived back just as Dirceu and Andre were getting home. They asked me if I had plans for the evening, which I didn’t. They suggested a meal at home and Dirceu and I headed to the supermarket to get what we needed. We chatted quite a bit over a lovely home cooked dinner. Every now and again Dirceu and Andre would switch back into Portuguese to discuss something. It can be quite a harsh sounding language and I felt the need to check a couple of times if everything was ok as it sounded like they were arguing.

We both shall walk more steadily

The next day I was up and out early again and I was off to the National Museum of Ancient Art, taking a route that would take me past the Palácio de São Bento, the Portuguese parliament building. The route took me down a couple of quite steep streets. I was so busy looking at the architecture of the buildings that I didn’t notice someone had been watering their plants and that the pavement was wet. Shiny, cobbled steep Lisbon street + water on said shiny cobbles = me sliding downhill for a good 10 feet, one leg behind me, arms outstretched to regain my balance, looking like an ice skater coming to the end of a routine. I was more than a little disappointed that the two old ladies stood at the bus stop watching me slide downhill didn't hold up scorecards once I came to a halt. I think I was at least a 5.9 for artistic impression.

The Museum kept me busy for a couple of hours and then I headed up to the Basílica da Estrela and the gardens, then on to Rato where I picked up a mini picnic at the supermarket and headed to the Parque Eduardo VII to find myself a sunny spot to sit in for another late lunch. I found a spot away from the crowds, had lunch and then a little siesta. I headed home, calling in at the supermarket to pick something up for dinner as I knew Dirceu and Andre were out in the evening so I would be left to my own devices. I had a chilled evening and was not far off heading to bed when Dirceu and Andre arrived home. Dirceu told me he had the following day off and was free in the morning so if I liked we could head out for Pastéis de Belém. It was top of my to do list for Lisbon so I went to bed dreaming about them.

“So if you'll hold my hand, we both shall walk more steadily”
Lyrics from Hold my Hand from the musical Me and My Girl

But here I learn

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Thu, 06 Aug 2015 19:55:00 +0000

But here I learn
It was already my final night in Tavira with Timmy. He had arranged an evening out in town, meeting up with Philip and another friend of his, Caroline, for drinks and dinner. Caroline was English so I didn't have to worry about any language barriers. We walked into town from Timmy's place, and the evening was warm enough for us to sit outside while we had a drink. I opted for a G&T, realising it was the first one I had had since setting back off on my travels. Dinner was at a restaurant called Brisas del Rio, which I managed to translate myself ("River breezes"). The name sparked a memory of one of my favourite words in Spanish which I had learned in my childhood studies (some twenty odd years earlier). "Limpiaparabrisas" - a windscreen wiper, had stuck with me since Spanish GCSE. I'm not sure why as a 15 year old who couldn't drive I needed to learn that particular word as part of my vocabulary homework but learn it I had and it had stuck in my memory. Even now as a 35 year old who couldn't drive I'm not sure it would be coming in helpful any time soon.

I started dinner with a goat’s cheese, apple and nut salad drizzled with honey. It had the word salad in it so it had to be healthy. My main was, I was assured, a typical Portuguese dish of pork and clams. It had been recommended by the rather attractive waiter who was serving our table. Who was I to disagree? His recommendation was spot on, the dish was really tasty and soon my plate was empty save for the clam shells. Dinner conversation revolved mainly around which waiter everyone round the table thought was the cutest. There was some disagreement and it got a little heated, with a glass of water being accidentally knocked over (naming no names) by someone pointing out the waiter they would quite happily go home with. The evening was rounded off with “one for the road” at a little bar just up from the restaurant. The road was a little longer than planned and I was certainly tipsy by the time we walk home. I packed my case when I got home so I would be ready for leaving in the morning.

I make new friends

My next stop was Lisbon. Gays 70 & 71, Dirceu and Andre, were a couple I had met through my friend Rui a couple of years previously. I had arranged a weekend in Lisbon to visit Rui and it coincided with a half marathon race he was doing, along with Dirceu and Andre. They signed me up for it as well. The race took in some of the less glamorous parts of Lisbon but avoided a lot of the hills, which given the temperature was approaching 30C I was most pleased about. I'd already warned the others that they may be waiting for a little while at the finish line for me to finish. As expected, I'd lost sight of them a few minutes in. My pace, which started as a brisk run, had slowed to a steady jog by mile ten. The last mile or so was on cobbled streets and I found running on them a bit tough. I think my pace by that point would be most accurately described as a “power mince”. I finished in a respectable 1 hour and 45 minutes though and when I checked later on the results website I was pleased to see that whilst a couple of thousand people crossed the line quicker than me I was the fastest runner from Great Britain (yes, I was the only runner from Great Britain so technically the slowest too but that's not quite so impressive). After the race we had a couple of drinks on a terrace overlooking the city where I got to properly meet Direceu and Andre. After heading back to Rui's to shower, change and have something to eat we met up with Dirceu and Andre again for some more drinks and a spot of clubbing. I have vague memories of us trying to do the Beyoncé Single Ladies dance. The following day I could barely walk. I blamed the running rather than the dancing.

Having done our goodbyes I was dropped off Faro train station by Timmy. I was a little hungover from the night before so needed caffeine and something stodgy to eat. There was a little café to the side of the station selling coffee and some sort of pastries. I had no idea what was in the pastry, whether it was sweet or savoury but I figured it would do the trick. I pointed at the item, held up one finger to indicate the quantity and smiled. As the lady behind the counter placed the item into a small paper bag for me I revised the number of fingers I was holding up, figuring it was a 3 hour train journey so I would probably need another later on. I grabbed a bottle of water too. I managed an “obrigado” as I paid and was given my breakfast. I ate the first one so quick I wasn’t entirely sure what the filling was. I put the second one into my bag for lunch.

The train journey to Lisbon from Faro was pleasant enough. I'd splashed out on a first class ticket and had the carriage virtually to myself. I put my case into the luggage space and my backpack on the seat opposite. The train had barely left Faro station before I got the other pastry out of my bag and ate it. So much for keeping that for my lunch. I sat watching the scenery go by for a little while before I rested my eyes for a while. Before I knew it we were approaching Lisbon. I’d been given a set of directions on how to get to the subway station where Andre would come and meet me. Despite getting off the train a stop early (thankfully still in Lisbon and connected to the subway, albeit not the one I needed to be on) I managed to find my way to the right place and texted Andre. A few minutes later I saw him approaching. He insisted on taking my case and we walked back to his. He explained that Dirceu was in bed as he had just flown back from Japan but that he would be up later and we would have dinner at theirs once he was awake.

Andre showed me my room, gave me a tour of the flat and told me to make myself at home. He gave me the wifi password, which allowed me to sort out some future travel plans. I had just had confirmation through from a friend of a friend that he could host me in Madrid. That would be Gay 72. I already had another 5 Gays lined up to host me in various places around Europe so I only had to find a few more to complete my 80. Fairly soon I would have the rest of the trip all planned out.

Dirceu woke late afternoon, came and said hello, and then disappeared again. He came back with a coffee for us both and we caught up on our respective lives since we had last seen each other while Andre set about cooking dinner. Over dinner we chatted about the various things I could see and do while in Lisbon. The only thing on my must do list was go to for Pastéis de Belém, the little Portuguese custard tarts. We had gone there the day before we did the half marathon on my previous visit. I had eaten about a half dozen I think, telling myself it would count as carb loading ahead of the race. I could already taste them. I was ready for my Lisbon adventures to begin.

“But here I learn, I meet new friends”
Lyrics from The Harvard Variations from the musical Legally Blonde the Musical

Climb every mountain

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sun, 02 Aug 2015 15:16:00 +0000

Climb every mountain

The next morning I woke late. I took myself downstairs. Timmy was working and Philip had already headed off. I figured I should ease myself back into my travels slowly so I spent the rest of the morning listening to the radio, sunbathing and snoozing in equal measures, breaking off every now and again to get myself another coffee from the complicated little machine in the kitchen. Around lunchtime Timmy came out to the pool and filled me in on the plan for the rest of the day. He had a couple of conference calls to do and then we would be headed to the supermarket to pick up some things for dinner before heading up to his house in the mountains for dinner. Paulo would be joining us and we would stay over so I needed to pack my toothbrush and some clean pants. After a spot of lunch and some more sunbathing I decided to have a little dip in the pool. Timmy was sat out on one of the sun loungers, taking one of his conference calls poolside so I kept my splashing about to a minimum.

Once Timmy had finished his work (and I was no longer in just swimwear) we set off for the supermarket, stocking up on the ingredients for dinner. I left Timmy collecting the things on his list and had a wander round to see what was on offer. I bought a couple of bottles of wine for with dinner, pushing the boat out and selecting ones at €6 instead of the €2 bottles. We paid for the shopping, loaded up the car and then set off for the mountains. Within five minutes we had left the town behind and were making our way up the winding road. The house is situated right at the top of the mountain, with a dozen or so houses dotted either side of the road just before it peters out. It has some spectacular views of the countryside with a line of telegraph poles being the only visible signs of civilisation.

Philip was already at the house when we arrived and I was handed a glass of wine before I had even had a chance to set my bag down. That’s the sort of hospitality I could get used to. It had been a few years since I had last visited so whilst Timmy unpacked the shopping I was given a tour of the place by Philip. Timmy joined us on the terrace out the back and we sat enjoying the wine and sunset as we caught up on our respective days. Timmy and Philip headed in a little while later to sort out dinner, declining my offer to help out.

I decided the terrace with the setting sun in the background would make a nice little spot for Dean and Ramon to have their first official touring photo together. After 9 months of taking photos of Dean (and sometimes Horse) in front of famous landmarks I had got used to setting them up for photos in front of famous landmarks, usually while being watched by bemused tourists. It was easy when there was just one model in the photo but I would have to learn how to best set up the shot for a group photo. It took me a little while as Jango (Ramon’s police dog) seemed a little unsteady on his feet and kept falling over. To get the photo I wanted I was pretty much laid flat across the terrace.

As I was getting up and dusting myself down I noticed Paulo had arrived and was stood watching me from the doorway, a slight look of bemusement on his face. I smiled and said “Olá”. How do you describe to a deaf Portuguese guy who doesn’t speak English that you are taking photos of toy policemen that your friends bought you as travel companions when you don’t speak Portuguese or know any sign language? I did my best to try to explain using a few gestures and basic words but settled on showing Paulo the photos of Dean in various places around the world. He smiled and nodded in what I hoped was an expression of him understanding. It could equally have been him just trying to get away from the weirdo with the tiny policemen friends, showing him photos of them like a proud father would show off baby photos. I was saved from any more awkward gesturing and Paulo was saved from me by an announcement that dinner was nearly ready.

A delicious dinner accompanied by my €6 wine followed, during which conversation was a mix of English for me and Philip, Timmy and Paulo speaking in Portuguese and a bit of charades from all of us as we tried to cross the language barrier. After dinner we watched the BBC news, a little reminder of home, before retiring to our respective bedrooms. The house and the surroundings were pretty quiet at night, giving me a small insight into what it must be like for Paulo not being able to hear anything at all. Despite the apparent silence I could still make out the occasional noise – the whir of the refrigerator or the bark of a dog somewhere in the village. I drifted off to sleep listening to the buzz of an insect.

The next morning I was up and out of bed fairly early, aided by the sound of a rooster who lived a couple of doors down announcing the new morning. I headed to the kitchen where Philip was already up and making inroads into the dishes from the previous evening. I grabbed a tea towel and started drying up the dishes he had washed. Fairly soon we had finished them all and attention turned to coffee. The smell of the coffee and some pastries for breakfast warming in the oven roused the others. After a leisurely breakfast we packed up to head back down the mountain, a little three car convey snaking back down towards Tavira.

Ford every stream

Once back at the house I went for a little swim before getting showered and changed. Timmy suggested going to have lunch in a little place down by the beach. He had work to do in the afternoon but Philip and I could spend the afternoon on the beach as the weather was pleasant enough. The beach at Tavira is reached by walking across a little bridge over the lagoon to get from the mainland to an island. To get to the beach from the bridge it is then about a ten minute walk, or for the princely sum of €1 there is a miniature railway train that shuttles beachgoers back and forth. There was no train at the “station” when we arrived so we set off walking.

Lunch consisted of a massive tuna salad and a beer for me. After Timmy left us Philip and I headed for a walk along the beach. As it was only mid March it was relatively quiet, the tourists would start arriving in another month or so. We walked quite a way along the beach, during which time we came across the massive body of a dead turtle. We also hit the nudist section of the beach which was thankfully pretty empty although there was one older man showing off everything as he sunbathed. There are some bits of your body that were not meant to see sunlight like that. The sight of that meant we had to stop for another beer at the café where we had had lunch before we headed back home.

“Climb every mountain, ford every stream”
Lyrics from Climb Ev’ry Mountain from the musical The Sound of Music

Someone is waiting

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Mon, 26 May 2014 09:07:00 +0000

Someone is waiting

I was back at the airport after a whirlwind three-week visit back home, cramming in trips to see family and friends in various parts of the country, as if I hadn’t done enough travelling in the previous nine months. At least this time I didn’t have to lug my huge suitcase round with me everywhere. The break from travelling had also given me a chance to sort out most of my travel plans for the final two-ish months of my travels. I only needed to stay with a dozen more gays to get me to the magical number of 80, which meant that I would have more free time to explore some of Europe on my own. I already had a number of offers from friends, friends of friends and people I had met earlier in my travels so had a rough idea of where I would be and when for the first few weeks after setting back off. Knowing that I would reach my target was warmly satisfying. I couldn’t have done it without the network of amazing & hospitable friends I’m fortunate enough to have.

As I made my way to the departure gate I reflected back on how I had felt leaving at the start of my trip. I felt different this time, I felt more like I was just going on holiday. Maybe it was because I was only going to be away for a couple of months instead of nine, maybe it was because I was going to be in Europe so knew I would only ever be a few hours away from home, maybe it was because I had become a lot more confident over the last nine months of travelling. Maybe it was because I hadn’t done a days work in nearly a year so I was feeling very relaxed. Maybe it was because I’d already had a gin at the airport (yes, it was still morning but I had it with orange juice to make it breakfasty). Whatever the reason it was time to get on with it and I boarded the plane.

My first stop on the European leg of my trip was a town called Tavira on the Algarve, a short drive from Faro where I would be flying into. A friend of mine, Timmy, had moved over there a few years ago and had agreed to host me. I had been over to visit him a few times before in the past but hadn’t been to his new place yet. It had been a while since I had last seen him so I was looking forward to a good catch up, undoubtedly over a glass or two of the local vinho. I hadn’t plucked up the courage to tell him his number yet. He would be Gay 69. A London friend of mine had commented that had they been one of the gays they would have only done it if they were Gay 1, Gay 80 or Gay 69 as they are the numbers that people will remember.

The flight over was uneventful and we landed on time and I had a text from Timmy saying he was here and waiting for me outside the terminal. I stood at the carousel in Faro watching as other passengers collected their luggage and headed for the exit, a small knot of anxiety developing as new cases stopped appearing on the belt despite the fact mine wasn’t there. I suppose it had to happen at some point. That perennial travel problem of the lost suitcase. I guess I had done fairly well making it through nine months of global travel with barely a delay, nearly missed flight or losing anything (except maybe my dignity on a few drunken nights out). Fairly soon the number of cases matched the number of people waiting by the belt. One case. One person, me. The one case was mine. I must have watched it go round a good half dozen times before I realised it was mine. I had been to Faro to see Timmy on a few occasions and I had always had a small suitcase with me and that is what I had been waiting for, not the large suitcase of clothes that would get me through the final couple of months. Thankfully there was nobody left to hear me exclaim "oh that's my case" or see me red faced collecting it a good few minutes after everyone else had left.

I collected my case and made my way out into the Portuguese sun. I could see Timmy waiting for me. I apologised for the delay, mumbling something about waiting for my suitcase. On the drive from the airport to his we caught up on the gossip about mutual friends from back home, I gave him a condensed version of my travels to date and he filled me in on what had been happening in his life since I last saw him. It was getting close to lunchtime by the time we arrived back at his so after a brief tour of his new place we headed into town for some lunch. We had lunch at a little café he suggested, sitting outside in the sun. Timmy took care of ordering for us both. His Portuguese had really improved since my last visit. I was limited to “obrigado” which I said as often as I could, making me seem over-polite.

After lunch and a little stroll around town we headed back to the house. Timmy gave me a quick tour of the house but then had some work calls to do so he left me to it. I had a little siesta and then took a book and sat out by his pool reading for a while. Timmy was doing a conference call from the side of the pool. I could see why he had swapped London life for this. I stayed out reading until the sun started to go down, making it a little chilly to stay outside in just a t-shirt and shorts. I went in to get changed into some jeans. When I came back downstairs Philip, a friend of Timmy’s who I knew from London, had joined us. We had a catch up and then they let me in on the plans for the evening. Another friend of Timmy’s, Paulo, had offered to cook dinner for us all so we would be heading there. Before we set off for Paulo’s Timmy explained that Paulo was deaf but could lip-read although he didn’t speak much English. I was certain he spoke more English than I did Portuguese.

The three of us headed out and drove over to Paulo’s for dinner. Having arrived and being welcomed in, Timmy did the introductions. I smiled, said hola and held out my hand ready for a handshake. I got a hug and a kiss on each cheek. A couple of attempts at my name and we settled on me being called “Crease” for the evening. I’d been called worse I guess. Very soon I had a glass of wine in my hand and we attempted a conversation, via Timmy. I felt like I was at the UN, having a translator by my side. It made the whole process quite lengthy so I spent periods just looking at Paulo and smiling (which was fine as he is very easy on the eye) whilst Timmy translated what I had just said.

We were invited to take our seats at the table while Paulo made his way into the kitchen to bring out the starter. He returned carrying a couple of bowls, steam gently rising from them, and placed one at either end of the table. They contained hot water with a slice of lemon floating in it. I looked at it and said “The soup looks a bit thin”. Timmy didn’t translate my attempt at a joke for Paulo who headed back to the kitchen, returning moments later with a plate piled high with prawns. We set about demolishing them. I’m pretty easy-going with food, kidneys being about the only thing I would struggle to eat, but if something on my plate still has its eyes and is looking up at me I feel a little uneasy. I shelled quite a few prawns in one go and put the heads out of sight. It took us quite a while to get through the prawn mountain but pretty soon the plate was just a pile of prawn heads. The main course was fish, complete with head and flat black eye staring up at me. I moved the piece of lemon garnishing the meal over the eye but could feel the fish looking at me through it. Dessert was a bannoffee pie, which had no head or eyes.

Conversation after dinner was interesting. It was like playing a game of bilingual charades. A mix of English, Portuguese and mimed actions helping us to converse. We seemed to do ok. From the mimes I gathered that Paulo worked as a photographer and he showed me some of his work. It was very impressive. I really did need to sort myself out with a photography course when I got back so I could move my digital SLR off “automatic” mode. It was soon time for us to head back. I managed to thank Paulo for dinner in Portuguese, even managing a muito obrigado rather than just an obrigado. Another big hug and kiss on both cheeks followed but this time I was prepared for it. Once back at Timmy’s I did my goodnights in English and made my way up to my room. It had been a great first day back on my travels.

“Someone is waiting”
Lyrics from Someone is waiting from the musical Company

It's so nice to be back home where I belong

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sun, 08 Dec 2013 19:06:00 +0000

It's so nice to be back home where I belong

I was back in London after nearly nine months of travelling. I had originally arranged for my round the world ticket to get me back in mid February for a couple of reasons. I had a couple of birthdays I wanted to be in the country for, I wasn’t sure if I would be bored of travelling after nine months and it would give me a handy excuse if I had overspent my travel budget (most likely on gin). Thankfully I was still under budget and had an appetite for more travelling so I began work on arranging the remaining gays in various European cities to get me to 80.

I suppose this part of the story isn’t really a part of my 80 Gays travels. If this whole adventure ever gets turned into a movie, this bit would be covered by one of those montage scenes with some appropriate song playing in the background, which fades away so you can hear snippets of various conversations. I’ll do the screenwriters a favour and just give the potted highlights of my couple of weeks back in the UK.

Place mat

I was collected from the airport by my dear friend Gail, one of the rare occasions she was actually on time for meeting me. I spent a couple of days with her, her husband and my godsons. Helping to look after a three year old and a one year old was a great way to stop the jet lag from hitting me. The boys had changed so much in the time I had been away. We headed out to a restaurant for lunch on my final day with them. I kept the boys entertained by making a cat out the paper place mat. My eldest godson recognised what I had made, which made me feel pretty good. Gail joined in by making a paper plane, going for something thin and sleek in the style of Concorde. She said “What has Mummy made?”. The response was a quizzical look, followed by the suggestion it was a nail.

I headed up home to see family and friends for a few days. I got a massive hug at the station from Mother and it was a good few minutes before she finally let go. Once we were back at her house and my sister arrived I gave them both the gifts I had picked out at the airport in Hong Kong – a Tiffany heart keyring for each of them. My sister opened the card first, and having read the message inside, started to cry. Mother looked up to see why she was crying as she had made a beeline for the present, ignoring the card attached to it.

We had a family trip over to see my granddad for his 92nd birthday. Over lunch I told him a little bit about my travels and some of the things I had done while away. I told him how I had held a gun in Texas but hadn’t had the chance to go shoot it, asking him if he had fired his gun during the war. He told us that he had never fired the gun they had given him but just after the war had ended and they were still in Germany they had come across a German rifle in the woods, near a railway line. My granddad had picked the rifle up. At that moment a few hundred feet away a deer was crossing the railway line. My granddad had taken aim and fired, not imagining for one moment he would get anywhere close. The deer dropped onto the tracks, having been unlucky enough to be hit by a novice marksman. My granddad and his fellow soldiers handed the rifle and the deer carcass to a rather bemused German farmer.

I spent a very enjoyable evening with Sara(h) Squared watching the men’s 10m synchronised diving championships in what would in a few short months time be the aquatics centre for the London 2012 Olympic Games. It was a great evening out – fit men in speedos to watch while we enjoyed a drink in the stands. We spent the warm up session picking out who we thought had the nicest design on their trunks and then got ready for the competition. I wasn’t paying attention when the announcer said what the first dive would be. I turned to Sarah and asked her what they were doing.

Sarah: “I think it is a back one and a half somersault with tuck”

Me: “With tut?”

Sarah: “Yeah, just as they are about to hit the water they have to tut”

Dean and Ramon

Having successfully navigated around the world for nine months I managed to get totally lost on the way to Claire’s 30th birthday party, in central London. I arrived about a half hour later than planned but we had a good catch up and reminisced about the wine tasting tour we had done a few months earlier in Sydney. Neither of us had been able to think about a Semillon in the same way ever since.

Dean got a new friend, Ramon, to join him on the European leg of my trip, courtesy of Sarah and Marcella who had given me Dean as a going away present.

“It's so nice to be back home where I belong”
Lyrics from Hello, Dolly! from the musical Hello, Dolly!

It would sure be nice to be back home

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 20:02:00 +0000

It would sure be nice to be back home

It had finally arrived. The day I was flying back to London having been away for some 262 days (and 68 gays). It felt simultaneously as though I had been away for an eternity and an instant. I was really ready to see family and friends again, a feeling that I hoped would be mutual. My flight wasn’t until the evening so I had most of the day to do stuff although I knew I would set off for the airport with more than enough time to spare. I had breakfast once more with Brian and Pavlo. They were headed off for a trip to China and were very excited about that. It had taken a bit of effort to arrange their visas and they planned on making the most of the time there. China was on my list of places to visit, but that would have to be another trip.

I wasn’t really in the mood for doing more touristy things so I decided I would completely empty my suitcase, get rid of anything that I didn’t need to take home and then make use of the space created by going and doing some shopping. I figured it was about time for another full wardrobe change, the previous one having been back in Portland in October. I was hoping the prices in Hong Kong would be a lot more reasonable than the prices back in London.

The shopping trip was proving fairly successful into the last store, Esprit. The rails of clothes were very close together, with not enough room to pass someone if they were coming in the opposite direction down the same aisle as you. I wandered a few of the aisles, picking up a couple of shirts and about a half dozen t-shirts to try. Armed with my prospective purchases I headed towards the changing room. As I got to the end of one aisle there was a woman coming down the one I needed to go up to get to the changing room. I stepped to one side allowing her to pass. As I set off I felt myself being pulled back and could hear a large metallic scraping sound. I had managed to get my bag strap caught round the end of the rail and was dragging it behind me. I could feel myself turning red as people turned to look at me.

Mother, stuck inside the Statue of Liberty

The incident reminded me of the time in New York on a family holiday with my sister and Mother. We had taken a trip over to the Statue of Liberty. It had only recently reopened fully and we had tickets to go inside the statue. Having climbed up to the crown and had some pictures taken we made our way back down the spiral staircase. My sister was in the lead, then Mother with me last. I stopped a couple of times to take some photos of the inside of the statue so a little gap had opened up between us. I heard the unmistakeable voice of Mother echoing up through the hollow metal interior of Lady Liberty, announcing to all that she was stuck. She had managed to get the back of her jumper caught on the handrail of the staircase. Having gone down a couple of steps she was unable to go any further. I made my way down the stairs to unstick her, first pausing to record the moment for posterity with a photo.

Having untangled myself from my predicament and returned the clothing rail to its original position I continued on to the changing room. My face had just about returned to its normal colour. The shop assistant at the changing room entrance smiled broadly at me. I showed her the items I wished to try on in case there were a limit to the number you could take in in one go. She pointed to one of the t-shirts and said “This for lady. You no lady”. My face once again returned to a hue of deep red as I handed her the t-shirt back. In my defence, the only signs I had been able to read in the store had been the price labels and there was not a clear dividing line between menswear and womenswear.

Purchases complete I made my way back to Brian and Pavlo’s. I packed my new purchases and soon I was all ready for my return home. I left a thank you card and a bottle of bubbly for my hosts and then headed out, remembering to drop their keys off with the porter. I got a cab to the station and then the train back to the airport. Once my luggage was checked in and I had cleared security I had plenty of time to have a wander round the shops. I picked up a very belated present for my friend Gail, who would be picking me up from Heathrow the following morning. I had set off on my travels a month before a rather large birthday of hers. I also picked up a couple of gifts for my sister and Mother. Part of the reason I was headed home for a couple of weeks was so that I could go see my granddad on his 92nd birthday. I picked up some of his favourite little cigars, one of the few presents we still bought him. I chuckled to myself at the advert on the package, which was warning that smoking could lead to erectile dysfunction. At nearly 92 I didn’t think he would be too bothered.

My attention in Duty Free wandered over to a cute guy in the gin section. Given I like both gin and cute guys I made my way in that direction. He looked up from his gin browsing and we made eye contact. It lingered for slightly longer that it would have done if he were a straight man so I smile. There was a hint of a smile before he looked back at the shelves. The was another moment of eye contact and smiling as he made his way to the till to pay for his shopping. I felt like I had been standing in the shop for a little while so I went and found a seat in towards the direction of my gate, but not that far from Duty Free that I wouldn’t be able to see him leave.

I decided if fate brought him in my direction I would do something that I had rarely done before – I would ask him if he wanted a drink. Fate did bring him my way but it also brought a woman with a clipboard doing some sort of survey. She said hello and then launched into a well-rehearsed monologue about the survey she was doing. I listened, waiting for her to pause for breath so I could interrupt and politely decline her invitation to answer a few questions. In the time it took me to get rid of the survey woman the cute gin guy had walked right by where I had been sat. I looked down the terminal building and could see him not that far ahead, walking away. I reckoned I could catch him up so I grabbed by bag and made off after him. I was nearly caught up with him when he turned off and into the entrance for one of the lounges. I took myself and my economy class ticket back to the gate to wait for my flight back to Heathrow.

“It would sure be nice to be back home”
Lyrics from Home from the musical The Wiz

No good deed

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sun, 24 Nov 2013 17:16:00 +0000

No good deed goes unpunished, Sure, I meant well

No good deed goes unpunished

I woke early on my second morning and made myself some coffee, returning to my room to do a bit of writing. I finished another blog post then quickly checked my email and Facebook. I had a friend request from someone I didn’t recognise. I flicked back through my journal to see if it was someone I had met recently but the name didn’t ring any bells. I clicked on their profile and noticed we had one mutual friend, N, a guy that I had dated for a few months before I had left on my travels. I dropped N a message to ask if I had ever met the person who was now trying to befriend me. I heard Brian and Pavlo up and about so went to join them for some breakfast.

Over breakfast Brian & Pavlo gave me some suggestions of things I should definitely see and do in my remaining time in Hong Kong. On their list of suggestions was a trip to see the Big Buddha up at Ngong Ping. They told me I could get the subway to Tung Chung and from there it was either bus or a cable car. They recommended taking the cable car for the views and the comfort of the ride, assuring me it was worth paying that bit extra compared to the bus. When I arrived at Tung Chung I found out that the cable car was closed for repairs so I was left with no choice but to take a bus. I found the bus stop, noted the sign saying that they only accepted the exact fare in cash and joined the queue.

The bus arrived and we slowly filed aboard. I found a seat about halfway down the bus, next to an open window, which was providing a nice breeze. The bus was just about full to capacity when I heard an American woman talking to the driver, her voice getting increasingly louder. It wasn’t hard to hear what the issue was. She didn’t have the exact fare and was trying to get him to accept a large note. It was clear that he wasn’t going to let her on without the exact fare and she wasn’t going to get off the bus to go get some change as that would mean the bus would leave without her. I checked through my wallet. I had enough change to pay her fare. I headed up to the front of the bus and gave her the change for the fare. She thanked me profusely and I politely allowed her in front of me to go find a seat. By the time I turned to go back to my seat I saw that someone had moved into it. I was left having to make do with the seat right in the centre at the back of the bus, which meant no nice window seat, no breeze, no view and a rather uncomfortable journey. Thanks karma.

The journey up to Ngong Ping was up a windy mountain road and took an age. I could see how a cable car would have been a lot more appealing. The Big Buddha lived up to its name. The place felt eerily remote, surrounded on all sides by wooded hills with little signs of civilisation. The Buddha sat atop a hill with a long set of stairs to climb up to it. Even before I got to the top I knew that this would be another place where I wished I had someone with me to share in the experience. I spent about an hour wandering around the Buddha and the surrounding area, taking in the sights before steeling myself for the bumpy bus ride back down.

Once back in civilisation I found a spot to have some lunch. I still had the pay as you go SIM card from Australia in my phone and so I was able to get online as I used up the last of the credit on it. I had a quick check on Facebook to see what was happening as a distraction whilst lunching alone. I saw a message from Brian inviting me to dinner with some of his friends that evening. My only plans for the rest of the day had been to do a spot of clothes shopping so I ditched that in order to go meet Brian and make some new friends. I made my way back to Brian & Pavlo’s place to freshen up and change into something more suitable for dinner than the shorts and t-shirt I was sporting.

Having showered and changed I checked out where I needed to get to as I wasn’t entirely sure where I was headed. I had a street address and had looked it up on Google maps, taking a photo of the screen as a reference for if I got lost. I headed out, stopping en route to buy a bottle of wine and then took the subway downtown. I was soon in the area I thought I needed to be in but couldn’t see the street or building number I needed. I checked the photo of the map a couple of times, retracing my steps and checking the streets off as I went. I still couldn’t find where I needed to be. I tried to get online to message Brian but I had clearly used up my credit, which meant I was unable to call him either. As I stood thinking what the best thing to do was I spotted Pavlo, looking similarly lost. Thankfully he could call Jack, whose place we were headed to and soon we had the directions we needed.

I was introduced to Jack and the wine was cracked open. Jack was British and had been in Hong Kong with work for a couple of years. We chatted for a while about the things we missed from back home. Brian arrived a little later with another friend, Tina. More introductions were followed by more wine. Over dinner I regaled everyone with tales of my travels, answering the usual questions I would get from strangers – favourite places, strangest moments, best host so far. As my travels got longer it was becoming increasing more difficult to answer the questions. By the end of dinner and a lot of wine I was ready for the taxi home.

Sure, I meant well

Just before I climbed into bed I checked my messages and emails. I had received a reply from N. It turned out that the friend request was from his new boyfriend. I didn’t realise he had even started seeing anyone. Apparently the new boyfriend had looked through N’s Facebook messages and had seen some flirty messages we had shared a few months previously. It turned out that N was already seeing the new boyfriend when we had been messaging. He asked me to ignore the friend request. The old, pre-travel me would have felt bad and apologised for the flirty messages, even though I had no idea the new boyfriend was on the scene. The new, post-travel me figured I had done nothing wrong – the messaging had been mutual, he could have told me he was seeing someone but he didn’t. I didn’t bother responding to him, I just defriended him. I had made so many new friends on my trip that I wouldn’t miss losing one.

“No good deed goes unpunished, Sure, I meant well”
Lyrics from No Good Deed from the musical Wicked

The fog rolls in

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Mon, 18 Feb 2013 23:20:00 +0000

The fog rolls in, and there it stays

The fog rolls in

The flight from Sydney to Hong Kong lasted three films, four episodes of The Big Bang Theory, two meals and several gin and tonics. It had been the longest flight of my trip so far that I had been awake for. The flights from Los Angeles to Auckland and Buenos Aires to Mexico City had both been longer but had been night flights and with the help of a couple of sleeping tablets and gin I had slept through them both. In the nearly nine months of travelling so far I had had no success in being seated next to any gays (as far as I knew) or been seated in a section of the plane being looked after by a gay trolley dolly. I’d not been able to flirt my way to any upgrades either, not that I had ever been good at that sort of thing. The only time I had ever managed anything like that was on a very short flight from Aberdeen to Gatwick. During the 40-minute flight I had got through four G&T’s because the steward serving them was cute and we had made a lot of eye contact. He told me in a text the next day that the crew on that flight had been checking out all the passengers as we boarded and that I had been unanimously voted “Bob” – Best on board. We dated for a year.

My hosts in Hong Kong were Brian and his boyfriend. Brian and I used to work for the same company before I had quit. We had met when he moved over from the Los Angeles office to work in London. He had put me in touch with Matt who had been one of my LA gays and after his move to Hong Kong he told me I was more than welcome to stay with them once my travels brought me there. He had been pencilled into my itinerary for over a year but we had only finalised the details a few days before my arrival. He had explained that they would both be at work when I arrived so he would leave a key with the security guard at their building. He gave me detailed directions on how to get from the airport to central Hong Kong and where to tell the taxi driver to go, including a phonetic pronunciation of the address in Cantonese in case my driver didn’t speak much English. He told me roughly what the taxi should cost too. It made my arrival stress free which given I was a little tired and was probably 10% gin was a good thing.

I cleared immigration, collected my case and got the train into Hong Kong. There was a queue for the taxis but it moved pretty quickly. I found the piece of paper I had jotted down Brian’s address and showed it to the driver. Thankfully I didn’t need to attempt the phonetic Cantonese version. The traffic was very heavy and progress was very slow. The driver asked if I was ok with him taking the mountain road as it was probably going to be quicker. I had no idea where Brian’s place was in relation to where we were so I said “sure, why not”. A few minutes later we had turned off the main road and were heading upwards. The mountain road turned out to be the road up to Victoria Peak. As we neared the top the road was busy with coaches, many parked up as groups of people milled around on tours. They had not chosen a great day for it as the city was shrouded in fog. It was impossible to make out any of the buildings but the fog was lit up in a rainbow of colours.

And there it stays

I arrived at the rather cutely named Wendy Apartments where I would be staying for the next few days and found Brian’s building. As per his instructions a set of keys were waiting for me with the security guy on reception. I headed up to the apartment and let myself in. There was a light on but I didn’t think anything of it. I lugged my case across the threshold, closed the door behind me and headed in to the apartment. The sight of someone sat at the dining table just in front of me scared the crap out of me. It was Brian’s boyfriend who I had only met once before. I momentarily forgot his name, so opened with a safe “Hello you!” and followed it up with a swift “I didn’t think anyone was going to be home”. As he showed me to what would be my room and made me feel welcome I racked my brain to remember his name. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something desserty. A short while later Brian returned home. As we hugged Brian said “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to message you to say that Pavlo would be home”. Pavlo! That was it.

The next morning I woke up early and found Brian and Pavlo already up and having breakfast. They poured me a coffee and asked me about my plans for the day. I said that I didn’t have a set plan and would probably just have a wander around the centre for a while, get my bearings and soak up the atmosphere. They both left for work and I took my time getting ready. Armed with a map, my iPod and wearing some comfortable shoes I set off for my day of wandering. The fog of the previous evening remained making a tourist trip up Victoria Peak rather pointless. Instead I contented myself with just wandering the busy, narrow streets taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the place. It was completely different to anywhere I had been on my travels so far. As I passed a Bank of China I noticed a large queue outside. It snaked across the path and I had to navigate a way through the queue. I suddenly felt very self-conscious about how English I must have sounded as I said “Pardon me please”.

My wandering brought me into the centre of the city and to the Bank of China main building. The queue outside it was unbelievable. It wrapped around the building a couple of times, up over a bridge and round a corner. It must have been a couple of miles long. It had me perplexed. Thankfully I randomly bumped into Pavlo who was on his way to the gym in his lunch break and he explained that a new 100 dollar note had been released to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the bank and people were queueing up to buy them as the new money was considered to be lucky. I decided against joining the queue. Instead I filled my day visiting the Hong Kong Gardens, walking round the harbour and embarrassing myself at lunch by my complete lack of language skills which meant I ordered by doing an impression of a chicken and then pointing towards the big plate of noodles on the next table.

“The fog rolls in, and there it stays”
Lyrics from Entering Grey Gardens from the musical Grey Gardens

Homesick blues

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sat, 12 Jan 2013 17:55:00 +0000

They said I would sing the homesick blues, so I always have this ticket in my pocket

They said I would sing the homesick blues

DIY bacon sandwich

It was my penultimate full day in Sydney. Matt wasn’t at work until the afternoon so we headed out for lunch after a lazy morning. He took me to a little café just round the corner from his and we found a table outside in the morning sunshine. A waitress came to take our order. I asked her if I could just get a bacon sandwich. They had a bacon and egg sandwich and a BLT on the menu so I figured it would be a fairly simple request even though it wasn’t technically on the menu. She said that she would have to check with the kitchen to see if they could do a bacon sandwich and headed off before I could say anything else. I looked at Matt, confused. They had bacon, they had bread, they made sandwiches but she needed to check that they could make a bacon sandwich? After a minute or so she returned saying that they “didn’t do custom made sandwiches” but I could have toast with a side order of bacon and make the sandwich myself. I laughed, thinking she was joking. She wasn’t. I was tempted to ask for an egg-free bacon and egg sandwich but thought she might spit in my food so I went along with her plan. Lunch duly arrived and I had to make my own sandwich. I muttered something about leaving myself a tip given I had to do half the work myself.

Matt headed off to work and I headed to the New South Wales art gallery. On the walk over the skies turned an ominous shade of dark grey and just before I arrived the heavens opened. The sudden downpour meant that the gallery got very busy as people who had been sunning themselves in the park tried to find a bit of shelter. I wandered aimlessly for a while checking out the various rooms and exhibits. After a while I found myself studying the people more than the art.

As I sat watching the people milling around I got a message from my friend back home in London, Gail. I would be staying with her, her husband and my godchildren for a couple of days when I first landed back and she was confirming my flight details and that she would come and pick me up from the airport. I couldn’t wait to see her and the boys again. The youngest was only a couple of months old when I had gone and was now coming up to being a year old so I knew he would have changed a lot and I was excited to see them.

I got to thinking about all the people I would soon be catching up with. I started to feel homesick, the realisation that I was missing people more than I had previously thought hitting me hard. I had a desire to get away from all the people in the gallery, their laughter and chatter seeming to get louder and louder as my mood fell. I think it was the combination of the proximity of my return home and the dark weather that contributed to me being in a very odd mood. I walked back to Matt’s, getting absolutely soaked on the way back. I felt like I needed to do something routine, something that I would do back at home so I cracked open a bottle of wine and settled on the sofa with the first season of Sex and the City from Matt’s DVD collection. It felt oddly comforting and I didn’t move from the sofa for the rest of the afternoon and evening.

So I always have this ticket in my pocket

My final day had arrived. I spent the morning sorting out my luggage and checking in for my flight to Hong Kong. I hadn’t fully unpacked my case the whole time I had been in Oz so I took the opportunity to unpack and repack everything. Seeing everything neat and tidy once more in my suitcase had a therapeutic effect. My mood from the previous day had lifted and I was ready to make the most of my last full day. Matt and I headed out for lunch, Matt taking me to one of his favourite places knowing that I wouldn’t have to build my own sandwich. The place, Fratelli Paradiso was a little cruisy and served great coffee. Most of the tables seemed to be occupied by the gays.

My 80 Gays business cards

Late afternoon we headed out for drinks. The Sydney gay scene was absolutely heaving, as it had been the Mardi Gras Fair Day. We caught up with some of Matt’s friends at the Bank Hotel for a few drinks. There seemed to be a constant flow of people trying to get through the spot where we were stood. I chatted to several of Matt’s friends, having to explain each time who I was and all about my travels. I was thankful of my little business cards which had my website details on the back as I could just hand one of those over and tell people to check it out. I still felt a little like a magician when I got the cards out and fanned them out so people could pick one in a colour that they liked. All of Matt’s friends were really friendly and fun but it was soon time for us to head off as I had arranged to meet up with my previous Sydney hosts.

Matt and I left his friends and made our way over to the Beresford. It was another busy venue and we finally found a bit of space outside. Not long after our arrival we were joined by Dan (Number 58), his friend Kurt who had joined us on a few of our trips out and Dave and Brian (Numbers 56 and 57). After introductions were done conversations turned to my hosts swapping notes on what I was like as a houseguest. They were all very polite about me, probably because I was stood with them.

The guys asked me what my highlights of Sydney had been. I had had some once-in-a-lifetime experiences – seeing the fireworks on New Year’s Eve from a great spot in the Harbour and climbing the Bridge – but they were things that anyone could do. The things I thought of as the highlights were much more personal. Dave and Brian making sure I had a stocking full of presents from “Santa” on Christmas Day, meeting their friends and being welcomed to Christmas Day celebrations, Dan and his friend driving me up to the Blue Mountains and getting shouted at by the person in the house from Sylvania Waters and Matt thinking I was called Dean and organising a rooftop party for me.

After going through the highlights I was asked about the lowlights. I struggled to think of much. There was the vaguely racist man who started talking to me on the ferry over to Manly but that was about it. There was the random drunk man who wouldn’t leave me alone when I had gone with Dan to The Shift. As we talked about drunken nutters we had some sort of “Field of Dreams” moment – if you talk about them, they will come. We were interrupted mid conversation by a rather drunken guy who came up to our little group, pushed his way in and made a beeline for me. He started talking at me as though we were friends and I racked my brain to think if I knew him. During the brief conversation he got a little handsy.

I couldn’t tell whether it was his attempt at flirting or whether he was just trying to steady himself as he was swaying a little while standing next to me. After about a minute or so he left, saying he had to go talk to his friends but he would be back. I couldn’t wait. As he walked off he turned around and winked at me. The penny finally dropped. It was the guy who had cruised me on the train a few days previously. The rest of the group all looked at me, waiting for an explanation. I went with the truth, telling them about the incident on the train but that I didn’t know the guy. Clearly he was a forgetful drunk, as he didn’t return as promised which I was rather pleased about.

The night drew to a close and I said my goodbyes and thank yous to my gays, having a bit of a group hug before we all went off our separate ways. Matt and I walked back to his stopping to pick up some food on the way home. The next morning I was up early and set about packing my case once again. The time had finally arrived to leave Australia and move on to my final stop before my brief scheduled return home. I said goodbye and thank you to Matt and headed to the airport for my flight to Hong Kong.

“They said I would sing the homesick blues, so I always have this ticket in my pocket”
Lyrics from Not for the life of me from the musical Thoroughly Modern Millie

Worth the uphill climb

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Tue, 01 Jan 2013 21:20:00 +0000

And you never know 'til you reach the top if it was worth the uphill climb

And you never know 'til you reach the top

The next morning Matt was up and out early to go to work. I was pleased that I didn’t have any pressing engagements to be up for. I didn’t feel hung-over but I certainly knew that I had had a few drinks the previous night. I snoozed for a while. My rumbling stomach finally prompted me into action. Had it not been for the sudden wave of hunger I could possibly have stayed in bed for the whole day. Sometimes it just has to be done. Having got myself ready I headed out and had a little wander round, finally settling on a nice looking café with some tables outside in the sun. I settled myself in for a leisurely brunch. It was nice to have the time to sit and actually enjoy the food and the people watching.

Matt had suggested that if I wanted to see a show I could meet him later in the day at work and watch Miriam Margolyes do a one-woman show about Dickens’ women. Having been travelling for nearly 9 months and in Australia for the last two I felt like I was in the need of doing something a little cultural so I decided I would take him up on the offer. I headed from Matt’s place to the theatre having checked the public transport route beforehand. As I waited on the platform at Kings Cross I played my favourite game, Spot the Gay. Not literally of course, I don’t carry around packets of those little sticky dots to put on people who I think are friends of Dorothy, although that could be a fun twist to the game. There were plenty of potential candidates to spot on the platform and it passed the time until my train arrived. I got on & found myself a seat.

One of the guys I had mentally stuck a little spot on got on the train too. He stayed near the doors but was in my line of sight. He looked over and smiled. My spot was in the right place. I smiled back, not wanting to appear rude. He kept smiling and staring and I began to feel a little uncomfortable, deciding the best thing to do was to look out of the window for a little while. I turned back after a minute or so and he was still looking my way. He smiled again and winked at me as the train was pulling in to the next station. He got off the train but I could see him loitering on the platform. I stayed where I was. As the doors closed and the train started to pull out of the station he winked at me again. I still had it! Ego boosted by the attention I continued the rest of the journey to meet Matt with a smile on my face.

I chatted with Matt for a while until the start of the show. I think I was one of the few people under 50 in attendance. The show itself was pretty interesting, brought to life by a great performance from Miriam. A one-woman show must be a lot of hard work. It also made me realise how little of Dickens I had actually read. We had read “Great Expectations” at school but with a mixed ability class progress through the book had not always been the quickest. I don’t think we ever finished the book before the exams either, our teacher opting to show us the film version so we knew how it ended. The English class had also been the only time I had ever been sent out of a school lesson. We had been reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream and I had got a fit of the giggles at the stage direction “Enter Bottom with a candle”. When the teacher had asked me what was so amusing I had been unable to answer and unable to control my laughter so I was sent outside for ten minutes to compose myself. The evening was rounded off with dinner with Matt and a fairly early night.

If it was worth the uphill climb

The next morning I was up fairly late and went out to get coffee and some food, Matt having already gone to work. For my birthday and Christmas my sister and Mother had given me the money to book myself on to a Sydney Harbour Bridge climb. I pottered about for a while before making my way down to the harbour and the bridge. I was feeling a little apprehensive as I waited with my fellow climbers for our climb. I had no problem with heights but I was worried about the breathalyser test I would have to take beforehand. I had avoided alcohol all day but I was concerned that after eight months of near continuous drinking that my breath was probably about 15% proof and I would fail the test. I was first up for the breathalyser so I had the entire group all watching as I blew into the machine, waiting for the alarm to buzz. I prayed silently for a miracle and someone heard my prayers. No alarm or beeping noise indicating I was a lush. I was sober enough to climb.

We donned the fetching overalls and our safety harnesses before having the safety talk from our guide. She took us through a few basics and we listened via the headsets that we had been provided with. It meant that we would all be able to hear her instructions during the climb. We were soon heading out onto the bridge, securely attached to the cable running alongside the walkway. I knew that I would be limited to having conversations with the people immediately in front and behind me for the next couple of hours so I lined up next to the people who looked the chattiest. I lined up behind two girls on holiday from Atlanta and had a couple from Perth just behind me. I chatted to the two girls in front who had only arrived in Sydney that morning. They had the soft Southern accent that brought memories of my time in the States and I filled them in on my travels and what I had seen when in Atlanta. Conversation flowed until we reached the part where we had to start climbing up and then most of the group fell into silence.

The climb was worth it. The views over Sydney from the top of the bridge were amazing. I couldn’t help but burst into a little Dirty Dancing number, singing “Now I’ve had the Climb of My Life”. My fellow climbers didn’t seem that impressed by my singing but tied on to the bridge as we were they had nowhere to go. There was a bit of time at the top to get our breath back and watch the sun set as we had our photos taken. We all posed for a group photo before everyone had a few individual shots taken. Our guide also took a few smaller group photos, getting people to pose with their families or friends. After the two girls from Atlanta had their photos taken it was my turn. I walked to the spot where people had been standing for photos and the guide asked who was in my group. I said I was alone and she kindly repeated it, broadcasting it to the headsets of everyone else in the group. I felt my cheeks flush as people in the group turned to look at me, Billy No Mates. The couple from Perth said I could join them in their photo. I politely declined.

After the sun had set we navigated our way safely back down the bridge, unhooking ourselves from the safety harness and returning all our kit. Having changed back into normal clothes I went to see the photos that had been taken up on the bridge. Looking at them I decided I really needed to learn how to do a fake photo smile so I didn’t end up with photos that would not look out of place on the rogue’s gallery on Crimewatch or leave me looking like I was suffering from some sort of facial paralysis. I picked a couple of the least worst ones and headed back to Matt’s. The first thing I did when I arrived back at his was pour myself a nice big glass of wine.

“And you never know 'til you reach the top if it was worth the uphill climb”
Lyrics from There’s a Fine, Fine Line from the musical Avenue Q

My seat on the train

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sun, 16 Sep 2012 20:02:00 +0000

My seat on the train is booked

My seat on the train is booked

I arrived at Canberra train station ready for my train back to Sydney. I checked my suitcase in, the guard congratulating me on having the case exactly on the 20kg weight allowance. This was more by luck than planning but it gave me a good guide as to how heavy the case was ahead of my upcoming flights to Hong Kong and then back home to London. There wouldn’t be that much room for presents unless I ditched some of my clothes. Having not done any clothes shopping since Portland about four months previous I was getting to the point of feeling like I needed another wardrobe change. I decided Hong Kong might be the place for shopping. I made my way on to the train and found my seat, ready to sit back and watch people get confused by the basic seat numbering system. I had a bet (with myself) that at least two people in the carriage would be in the wrong seats. They didn’t disappoint. One couple, after a lengthy discussion with another couple claiming ownership of the seats they were sat in, turned out to be in completely the wrong carriage. Another woman who had made herself comfortable in the window seat in the row in front of me seemed most perturbed when someone else turned up and pointed out that was his seat. She was supposed to be on the aisle. He didn’t look the sort to give up his window seat and he duly stood waiting for her to move.

Soon enough everyone seemed to be in the right seats, or at least in the wrong seats but not disturbing anyone else and we set off towards Sydney. Not long into the journey an announcement was made that the buffet car was open. The girl in the seat next to me jumped up and headed off in that direction. The speed she left her seat I figured she must have been hungry. She returned minutes later with two lagers. Ok so she was thirsty. Very thirsty it turned out as she got through them in a little over half an hour. It was barely lunchtime. A few minutes after finishing her second lager she was up again and headed back towards the buffet car. There was another announcement over the train’s PA system reminding passengers that there was “a strict two alcoholic drinks per passenger per hour policy on-board”. The girl next to me returned to her seat empty-handed, swearing under her breath. This didn’t bode well for a quiet journey back to Sydney. I put my earphones in and pretended to be asleep before she asked me to go to the bar for her. I think I had met my first proper bogan. I feigned sleep all the way to Sydney.

My last host in Australia was a guy called Matt who I had been in contact with for a couple of months. He had interviewed me for an article on SameSame after my friend Other Dale in Melbourne had emailed one of his friends who worked there and told them about my travels. The initial email from Matt had started “Dear Dean…” which had made me chuckle. Having pointed out that Dean was a 2-inch tall plastic toy policeman I explained that it would be me answering the questions for the article. Afterwards we had stayed in touch and Matt had offered me a place to stay for my final pass through Sydney, an offer I had accepted.

I made my way to his place and rang the doorbell. No answer. I tried again, still no answer. I dug out the message he had sent to double check I was in the right place. I had the right street and the right house number but my third ring on the doorbell went unanswered. Just as I was wondering what to do, a mild panic setting in, I got a message from Matt saying he was delayed but on his way home. I stood outside his place, half perched on my suitcase, trying not to look like a hooker or a homeless person. While I was waiting Dave, one half of Brian and Dave my first Sydney hosts at Christmas, walked by. It was great that even on the other side of the world from home in a city where I knew only a handful of people I could manage to bump into someone I knew. Dave’s opening line was “What are you doing loitering on the streets like a cheap hooker?”

Dave and I chatted for a while, he left and then Matt arrived home. He apologised profusely for being late. I told him that it was fine and not to worry. He explained that he had meant to be home much earlier but someone had driven into the side of his car on his way home. Matt was fine, his car a little less so. It made my journey to Sydney sat next to the bogan seem much less traumatic. We both agreed that we were in need of a drink so after sticking my suitcase out of the way, having a quick shower and change we headed out. There was a little party being thrown in my honour. It was being hosted by another guy called Matt, the editor of SameSame, up on the roof terrace of his building. An invitation had gone out a few weeks before on Facebook and I had felt compelled to issue a clarification. The invitation had me down as “the British guy doing 80 gays around the world in a year”. I pointed out that “doing” actually meant “staying with”. There was a bit of banter from some of the guys so I knew I was in for an entertaining evening. As we headed off I told Matt I would need to stop at a bottle-o to pick up some tinnies on the way over. He didn’t seem impressed that I was trying to speak the local language.

We arrived at Matt’s and made our way up to the roof terrace. Within the space of a minute I had been introduced to about a dozen people and had a large glass of wine in my hand. I apologised in advance for forgetting names, as I knew I would never be able to remember them all. There were the inevitable questions that I could now answer in my sleep – Where have you been on your trip so far? What was your favourite place? Have you slept with all of the people you have stayed with? How did you come up with the idea? Once I had answered all the questions directed at me the conversation moved on and I was able to ask a few questions of my own. It was nice to find out what people did for a living, where they had come from and where they had travelled recently. The Australians seemed impressed that I had made it to so much of their country.

A few more glasses of wine later and I felt like a part of the group rather than an outsider. The music was pumping and something by Madonna came up on the playlist. There was much talk that Madge had just announced that she would be coming to Australia in early 2013 at the end of her latest world tour, her first visit in 20 years. The assembled Australians all seemed very excited. Now, whilst I think she is an amazingly talented woman I was struggling to get so excited about the prospect of seeing her live. In one of those awkward moments where you say something quite loud just as it goes quiet I announced “I don't understand the obsession with Madonna. If I wanted to see a pensioner jumping around slightly out of time to the music and trying to dance I would go home & watch Mother playing on the Wii”. From the looks I got I was lucky not to have been thrown from the roof terrace for heresy. I managed to get through the rest of the night without saying anything else to upset my new friends, thanked them all for a fun night and headed back to Matt’s via a great Thai place for take-out food.

“My seat on the train is booked”
Lyrics from Back to Limmeridge from the musical The Woman in White

I'm a toy balloon

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Tue, 28 Aug 2012 22:00:00 +0000

I'm a toy balloon that is fated soon to pop

I'm a toy balloon

After our Saturday night out on the Canberra gay scene Sunday got off to a sedate start. Gavin had some jobs to do so Rob and I headed out for brunch. We brunched at the Pork Barrel Café, which was just next door to the restaurant where Julie Gillard had been ambushed a few weeks earlier. She had lost a shoe as she was bundled into the car by the security team but despite a good look round we had not seen any stray shoes, comfortable or otherwise. We found a nice table on the patio outside and over a very tasty brunch we chatted about mostly inconsequential things. The one thing that I took away from the conversation was that Rob has a character in Doctor Who named after him, a certain Police Sergeant Robert Lines. Knowing what they can be like with their nerdy devotion to Doctor Who I imagine that Rob is the envy of a whole bunch of gays.

Dean and Horse outside Parliament

After brunch we made our way over to Weston Park. Rob had recently joined the local LGBT choir and they were having a bit of a picnic. As we got closer to the park Rob told me to keep an eye out for some pink balloons. The park was quite large so in order to help people find the picnic spot there would be a trail of pink balloons tied to trees, fences and posts to guide people in. We soon picked up the trail but it looked like they had been up for a little while by the time we arrived. With the heat of the day and the sun they were looking a little deflated. I commented that the half deflated ones resembled slightly saggy breasts and the fully deflated ones looked like used condoms. I am not sure it was quite the look that the lesbian and gay choir were aiming for but it made the two of us chuckle. We parked up and made our way over to where the choir were assembled. I was hoping that there would be no impromptu sing-a-long, which can sometimes happen at these sorts of events. Rob introduced me to a couple of people whose names he could remember, leaving me to introduce myself to the others. We were made to feel very welcome and it seemed like a good way for making new friends if, like Rob, you had only recently moved to a new city.

That afternoon, having collected Gavin, we headed out to the Botanical Gardens for a wander around before having an ice cream and then heading up to the nearby Telstra Tower to take in the views across the city. After a trip back home to freshen up we headed out for dinner. The centre of town seemed fairly quiet, even for a Sunday evening. We ate in a little Chinese restaurant that as a tourist with no knowledge of the city you wouldn’t have spotted. The door to the restaurant immediately led to a flight of stairs down to the restaurant and it was fairly busy. Food was ordered, drinks arrived and as we waited for dinner I asked my hosts about their move over to Australia, which to me seemed like a much bigger life change than my taking a year off to go travelling. They both felt that it was a good thing for them to have done but if it hadn’t worked out or if they missed England they could just move back. They say that you regret the things you don’t do more than the things you do do and this was Rob and Gavin’s philosophy too.

That is fated soon to pop

The National Carrilon

Monday I had the day to myself as Gavin and Rob were both at work. I got a lift into town with them and had a little route planned out to keep me busy for the day and take in the main sights of the capital. My first stop was the old parliament building which I pretty much had to myself. There was hardly anyone else in the place. After the old parliament I went to the new parliament, stopping on the way over to get a photo of Dean and Horse out front. As I was setting them up on a handy bollard a police car drove slowly past, the window wound all the way down and the driver looking at me with a slightly puzzled expression. I smiled and nodded hoping he would just carry on driving, which he did. My day was taken up with touring parliament, wandering around the National Library, going to the National Portrait Gallery (and failing to recognise the vast majority of the people in the portraits), stopping under the National Carrilon as it chimed out a version of Waltzing Matilda and heading up to the War Memorial.

It had been a very hot day to do a lot of walking so when Rob messaged me to say that he would be done work on time so we could meet up for a beer (or two) while waiting for Gavin to finish work I jumped at the chance. I met him at his office and we wandered to a bar called Tongue and Groove, which despite the name, was not a lesbian bar. The first pint barely touched the sides so I was soon back at the bar ordering a second. Gavin joined us a little while later before we headed home for a quiet night in watching an episode of Sherlock and enjoying a nice home cooked dinner. I had an early night and slept like a log. I was still feeling a little tired the next morning so I decided to have a day chilling at the house, catching up on some writing and some admin that I had been putting off for a while. I also used the time to start to firm up some of my plans for the European leg of my travels, which now didn’t seem very far away at all. Before I knew it the day had gone and Rob and Gavin were back from work.

We decided to mark my final evening in the city by heading out for a nice meal at a restaurant called Rubicon. It had been recommended to Gavin by one of his colleagues. I had looked at the menu online earlier in the day and was very much looking forward to dinner having already pretty much made up my mind as to what I was going to have. The food lived up to the billing. I started with rabbit ravioli and followed it up with a perfectly cooked (rare) steak, wrapped in bacon served with scallops. After dinner we were handed the dessert menu. I don’t have a huge sweet tooth so it was part of the menu I had not read when I had looked earlier. On the menu opposite the desserts was the cheese selection. When I noticed that the cheeses had been split into types – soft, blue, semi-hard & hard – I got the giggles. Both Rob and Gavin sat shaking their heads in what I hoped was mock disapproval. I was still laughing when the waiter came to take our order. Thankfully Gavin put in my order for me as I was unable to do so, tears streaming down my face. It was a great end to my last night and even just thinking back to the cheese menu makes me smile.

My final morning in Canberra had come round really quickly and it was time for another round of thank you and goodbyes. I had time for a spot of brunch before Gavin dropped me off at the train station ready for me to get the train back to Sydney for my final few days in Australia.

“I'm a toy balloon that is fated soon to pop”
Lyrics from You’re the Top from the musical Anything Goes

Like a kangaroo

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Thu, 19 Jul 2012 14:28:00 +0000

I feel like hoppin' up and down like a kangaroo

I feel like hoppin' up and down

The next stop on my trip after Uluru was Canberra. I had encountered the same response from every Australian I had told about my itinerary when I said Canberra was on it. They had invariably said “Why are you going there?”. I wasn’t sure why the Australians had such a low opinion of their own capital city but maybe I was about to find out. My trip from Uluru to Canberra involved a plane, a train and an automobile. The flight from Uluru to Sydney was quiet. I was sat on the aisle seat, the window seat of my row was occupied. The doors had been closed indicating everyone was on board and row across from me was empty. As the stewardess passed down the aisle I asked if I could move seats across to the other side. She said that I would need to wait until after take off as the weight distribution of the plane would be thrown off if I moved now. I wasn’t sure how much she thought I weighed but I was certain that even my large frame moving a few feet across the aisle would not be that significant compared to the weight of the 737 we were flying in. I moved after take off and stayed there for the landing too, hoping that my seat change didn’t throw the weight distribution off that much that the pilots crashed into the runway. We all survived the smooth landing and I was given some reassurance that my weight relative to a passenger jet was still within acceptable bounds. I had a window seat for the train ride from Sydney to Canberra so I didn’t have to worry about my weight unbalancing the train and from the train station I got a taxi, the driver not making any reference to my choice of seats for the journey.

View from Mount Ainslie

My Canberra hosts were Gavin and Rob, an English couple who had recently moved over to Canberra. They were friends of Greg, Gay Number 1 in New York. He had seen that I was planning on going to Canberra, had sent them a message and they had agreed to put me up for a few days. I had not met Rob before but I had met Gavin a couple of weeks previously in Brisbane. We had been out for dinner and had got on well in so far as the offer of a place to stay hadn’t been taken back after dinner. The taxi dropped me off outside Rob’s office, where he was waiting just inside reception for me. We chatted for a while as we waited for Gavin to finish work and come and pick us up. I gave Rob a very condensed highlights version of my travels so far, the same one I had given Gavin in Brisbane, to get them both on the same page. Once back at theirs I was shown to my room and told that a drink would be waiting once I had got myself settled in. My settling in consisted of putting my bag down and unzipping my suitcase so I was settled in fairly quickly and soon enjoying a welcome drink with my two hosts. We had dinner at a Thai place called Baan Latsamy to round off my first evening in the capital.

The next morning I was awake and up early. Rob and Gavin had told me to make myself at home so I headed for the kitchen in search of coffee. I found that everything I needed had been neatly laid out on the counter near the kettle – coffee, sugar, a mug and a spoon. They were clearly organised gays. Once everyone was up and ready I was given the itinerary for the day and asked if it met with my approval (which it did). We set off to our first stop – Mount Ainslie and the look out spot over the city so that I could get my bearings and a rough idea of the layout of the city. We parked up and headed to take in the views over the city. It was a great spot to see the whole of the city, which, was rather small. Rob did a great job of pointing out the various landmarks to me. He did such a good job that several other people who were up there also listened to him. A couple of Australians even asked him questions about what certain things were. He made a great tour guide.

Like a kangaroo

From Mount Ainslie we went to Mount Stromlo, another spot with good views over the city but also a large number of burnt out telescopes, the remnants of a devastating fire 9 years before. We continued our space theme by heading out to the Canberra Deep Space Communication Complex. On the way in was a model of the Voyager 2 rocket with a plaque announcing it was there to commemorate the “encounter with Uranus”. I got the giggles. Rob and Gavin came to see what I was laughing at. They both walked away shaking their heads. After a look round the exhibits we had a coffee and a sandwich sat out in the sun before heading off to the Namadgi National Park for a bit of a hike. On the way over we saw some exotic roadkill including a huge wombat and a kangaroo. Thankfully we got to see some live kangaroos on our hike. Gavin was great at spotting some of the smaller wildlife that dotted our route up to American Hat and back. It was a great hike and by the time we returned I was ready for a quick snooze before we got ready to head out for dinner and drinks.

After dinner at Wagamama (a lovely little reminder of being back home) sat outside in the warm evening air (not so much a reminder of being back home) we decided that as it was Saturday evening we should go try out the Canberra gay scene – all one bar of it. Gavin and Rob had also yet to experience it too so we were all virgins as far as the Canberra gay scene was concerned. We made our way to The Cube, which had apparently recently undergone a revamp. The bar was a decent size, with plenty of seating and a small dancefloor off to one side. The music was fairly loud (although I realise saying this might just make me old) and it was a little on the empty side although it wasn’t even 11pm yet. We got our drinks and then found a spot to sit and judge people. It was another reminder of what it had been like growing up in Sheffield where the gay scene had not been that much bigger. Everyone had to go to the same place – guys and girls, young and old. I suspected that the relatively small size of the gay scene and the city meant that most people would already know each other. It had been the same in Sheffield – you couldn’t start dating anyone without half the gay population knowing about it or pointing out who had already slept with them.

By the end of the evening we had reached a couple of conclusions about the Canberra gay scene. The first was that the bar was not as bad as we had all been expecting both in terms of fellow patrons, music and décor. The second was that no matter where you are there is a strong chance that there will be a group of young straight girls in a gay bar. Finally we were pleased, for different reasons, we didn’t have to rely on the Canberra gay scene to meet future partners. Rob and Gavin already had each other and I was only in town for a weekend.

“I feel like hoppin' up and down like a kangaroo”
Lyrics from Once a Year Day from the musical The Pajama Game

Big-ass rock

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Mon, 09 Jul 2012 09:46:00 +0000

Let's find a rock, I mean a big-ass rock

Let's find a rock

My time in Melbourne was at an end. I had done my goodbyes the previous night, as I was off early to get to the airport. I was on the first tram into central Melbourne to get the bus to the airport for my flight to Uluru, via Sydney. I arrived at the bus station just as a bus was pulling out. I had to wait 15 minutes for the next one. I knew that I would still arrive at the airport in plenty of time but my mental itinerary was now thrown out. At that hour in the morning and without a coffee to wake me up I struggled to work out what time I would arrive. In the end it was enough time to clear security and get some breakfast before boarding the first flight. The flight to Sydney was not quite long enough – no sooner had I nodded off for a nap I was being woken up for landing. I had a window seat for the Sydney to Uluru leg and it seemed like we were flying over nothing but red dust for a long time. The place didn’t look completely barren though, which surprised me a little. There were plenty of trees dotted across the landscape too. As we came in to land I got a glimpse of Uluru/Ayer’s Rock. From the air, with nothing else around it, it really stood out. I could also make out the resort, a tiny speck of civilisation in the middle of nowhere. It seemed very artificial and out of place.

We landed at the tiny airport and after a little while the doors were opened for us to disembark. Stepping out of the door onto the stairs the heat hit me. It had been cool and drizzly when I had left Melbourne so I was wearing jeans and a jumper. It was a little warm in them to say the least. At the bottom of the stairs I stepped to one side to take my jumper off. As I pulled it over my head my t-shirt started to go with it. Thankfully I had been one of the last people off the plane so there was only the air stewardess stood at the top of the stairs there to witness my impromptu striptease. Having rescued my t-shirt from inside my jumper and put it back on I headed into the airport. The airport was very small and there was hardly any wait for the luggage. Outside the airport was a fleet of air-conditioned coaches waiting to take everyone to the resort. I was staying at a place called The Lost Camel and was directed to the first coach for the short journey across to the resort.

Uluru at sunrise

Once I was all checked in I had a little walk around the resort. There was a supermarket, a couple of shops, a café and a takeaway place called Ayer’s Wok. I did a little shopping at the supermarket and made myself some lunch before heading out for a walk to one of the viewing points. There was a free shuttle bus that ran a route between all the different hotels and the look out point but I decided I would take a walk. I had a map of the resort so knew roughly were I was headed. It was a little further than I expected but I found the spot and got my first proper look at the Rock in the distance. I was looking forward to my tours the following day when I would get to see it from a lot closer. After staying a while taking in the view I set off back to the hotel. It looked like there was a small track leading from the look out point across the scrub. I took a few steps along it and then thought I heard something moving in the grass up ahead. I promptly turned back and took the long route along the road back to the resort just to be on the safe side. Once back I had a swim in the pool to cool down, had some dinner and an early night.

I mean a big-ass rock

Viewing platform at Uluru

I had booked to go on the sunrise tour, which involved a 4:45am pick up. I am not the best in a morning so my alarm going off at 4:15am was not a welcome sound. I resisted the urge to snooze for 5 minutes knowing that I would not wake back up for a couple of hours and would miss the trip. I managed a shower and a strong coffee before joining a couple of other bleary-eyed people in the reception. Our coach arrived and we boarded. The coach was already about half full and we made one more stop. I suspected the final hotel was the nicest one at the resort; they got the last pick up so they got to spend longest in bed. I had a quick look round at my fellow trippers on the coach. It could easily be mistaken for a coach taking us to a casting call for a remake of Cocoon.

We drove for about half an hour or so through total darkness until we arrived at the sunrise viewing area. There was coffee waiting for us and I needed some. I grabbed a cup, and finished it rather quickly, heading off to get a good spot on the viewing platform before it filled up. The advantage of being on a trip with a slightly older crowd meant that I got to the viewing platform quicker than they did. I tried a couple of spots before settling on a place with the view I wanted for my photos. The sun was slowly coming up, behind us, Uluru set out in front of us. It was stunning to watch it slowly change colour as the sun rose. Despite the large number of people on the viewing platform it was remarkably peaceful. It was another bit of the trip where I wished there was someone with me to share it with. Having got some photos I went for a bit of a wander, getting a great photo looking back at all the people still up on the viewing platform. It was spectacular and worth the early start. Once the sun was up we headed back to the bus. The rest of the trip saw us take a walk around the base of the rock before a quick stop at the cultural centre.

Kata Tjuta at sunset

Having been dropped back at the resort I had time for a snooze before grabbing lunch and getting myself sorted out for an afternoon tour to Kata Tjuta, the other large rock formation in the area. It was going to be quite a hike and we had been told that we needed to carry two litres of water for it. They were pretty strict too. I had two 750ml bottles with me but they made me get some more. On the drive out our guide, Adam, explained that everyone would walk to the 1st lookout point. From there, if the temperature was below 36 Celsius, then we could walk to the 2nd lookout if we wanted. The guide explained that it was a 5km round trip from the 1st to the 2nd lookout. Adam told us that it had been above 36 for the last two weeks and that meant it was too dangerous to take people up to the 2nd lookout. We were lucky, it was only 34 degrees so we could do the walk. About half the group opted to do the walk, the other half returning to the coach for a driving tour.

The hike to the 2nd lookout was tough. I was pleased they had made me get two litres of water as I got through most of it. I estimated that if I took my pants off and wrung them out then I would find about a litre of the water I had drunk. The views from the 2nd lookout point were worth the effort though and on the way back I got my first glimpse of a kangaroo out in the wild. I wasn’t quick enough to get a good photo of it though. Post hike we waited for the coach to return to pick us up to take us to a spot to watch the sunset. There was some liquid refreshment waiting for us at the spot where we got to watch the sunset. I got myself some wine and grabbed one of the little folding seats and found a spot away from the main group to wait for the sun to set. A woman spotted me sat on my own and came to sit near me. She said that she had seen the size of my camera (not a euphemism) and had decided that I obviously knew what I was doing and how to pick a good spot for photos. We chatted for a while as the sun set. It was another spectacular sight and it rounded off a great day. The drive back was almost in silence and even though it wasn’t that late I was ready for bed when I got back.

“Let's find a rock, I mean a big-ass rock”
Lyrics from Big-Ass Rock from the musical The Full Monty

Attention please

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sun, 24 Jun 2012 20:34:00 +0000

May I have your attention please?

May I have your attention please?

After a relaxed Sunday I headed to DT’s to meet Damian and his friends for Sunday Funday. I was on my way there when Damian sent me a message saying he was stuck at work but would get there as soon as he could. By now I felt comfortable heading to DT’s on my own. Since starting my travels I had got much better at being in a gay bar alone but I was certain that there would be some people in there that I knew anyway. I headed in and got myself a beer before heading out the back to the small garden area. Sure enough there were a couple of friendly faces out there and I was welcomed into the group. I managed to remember who everyone was and was introduced to the people I hadn’t met before. I chatted away happily with them until Damian arrived about an hour later than planned. He joined us and asked how I was doing, asking if his friends were looking after me. I said that they had been picking on me as the new boy, hitting me in places where the bruises wouldn’t be noticed. Damian laughed and said what a friendly bunch they were.

We settled in to a seating area out back and as we were chatting away I noticed one of the guys seemed to be constantly glued to his phone, only partly paying attention to the conversation and his friends. Someone made a comment about how he was probably on Grindr. He looked up and admitted that he was but added “I only use it to chat to friends”. It was something that I had heard a few times on my travels from various people. It struck me that even if he was messaging friends he was missing out on talking to the friends he was actually with. Looking back on my travels it had been one of the few constant things that I had seen in gay bars and restaurants across the cities I had visited. I had never given it much thought until now though. Groups of friends stood in a bar or sat at dinner all on their phones, the art of conversation being slowly killed.

I decided there and then that going forward I would make a conscious effort when I was out with friends to leave my phone in my pocket and make the most of the time with the people I was out with. It would be difficult as the devices are addictive and I am just as guilty of using it when I should be paying attention to friends. There is always the thought that you might be missing out on something and while you are busy checking the latest tweets or status updates you are missing out on the life going on around you. The guy still had his phone out even after people had commented on it. I could see his screen reflected in a mirror that was behind him. The photo he was looking at was something only a friend with benefits would send. I thought about saying something but bit my tongue.

After DT’s the group split, some people heading home to have a quiet end to the night while the rest of us headed to The Laird. I got a round of drinks in and was handed four raffle tickets. Apparently with each drink you got a raffle ticket for a draw held later in the evening. We stayed long enough to collect a few more raffle tickets. The raffle draw was a little unusual to say the least. After the first number was called out the lucky winner headed to the DJ to collect his prize. There was a large tombola and it was given a good spin. The guy reached in and pulled out a dildo. I thought that was the prize but it turned out there was a number painted on the bottom of it which corresponded to a prize. None of our numbers were called so I didn’t get to go delve for a dildo. The time came for us to go home I thanked Damian’s friends for being so welcoming before Damian and I found a taxi to take us back to his.

My final day in Melbourne had arrived. I had been messaging the cute guy from the Australia Day party for a couple of days and the messages had turned a little bit flirty to say the least. We had been trying to find a time to meet up but it had been difficult. He said that he was working but I could always head over to the gym he worked at and we could go get a coffee. I thought “Why not?” so made my way out to him. I arrived at the gym and he was waiting outside for me. There was a slightly awkward moment as we greeted each other, unsure whether it would be a handshake, hug or a kiss. We settled on something between a hug and a kiss. I got a little unexpected workout at the gym and it was very enjoyable. Having a fit guy tell you that he thinks you are sexy when you feel a little out of shape is a real ego boost. After the gym we headed for a coffee and spent a very pleasant hour chatting before saying goodbye, this time both going for a kiss. I told him to give me a shout if he ever made it over to London.

My final evening with Damian was a relatively quiet one. I needed an early night as I had an early flight to Uluru via Sydney in the morning. Damian suggested we head for the cinema as there was a film called The Weekend opening and he wanted to see it. I hadn’t been to the cinema since New Orleans although I suspected that in Melbourne I would not be taking in a frozen daiquiri in a cup that needed both hands to hold it in with me. We queued for tickets and plenty of people had turned out to take advantage of it being half price night. I asked Damian what the film was about. It was about gays, which would explain the high proportion of them in the queue. We reached the front of the queue about 10 minutes later and thankfully the gays ahead of us hadn’t bought all the tickets so we got two for ourselves.

We had time for dinner beforehand so headed a couple of doors down to a place called Trotters. The place was fairly busy but we managed to squeeze into a little table for two. As I read through the menu I realised how hungry I was. My little trip to the gym earlier had meant that I had missed lunch. I decided to have The Little Pig burger, which probably had more than enough calories in it to make up for the lack of them so far in the day. I was a little pig and finished the whole thing. I didn’t need to get any popcorn for the film. We returned to the cinema. We didn’t need to check the tickets to see which screen it was on. We headed for the queue that was 90% gay men. The film was good, a sort of love story between two guys who meet in a gay bar and end up spending the weekend together. It was filmed in Nottingham and I recognised a couple of the places in the film. I had a pang of homesickness.

“May I have your attention please”
Lyrics from Pirelli’s Miracle Elixir from the musical Sweeney Todd

You'd have steak

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Tue, 19 Jun 2012 17:40:00 +0000

You'd have steak when the job was done

You'd have steak when the job was done

Saturday kicked off with brunch with Damian and his two housemates, Lara and Fancy. I suspect that Fancy was not the name his parents gave to him but I didn’t get round to asking where the nickname had come from. We walked down to a place called Paragon Café. I ordered my eggs, poached, on toasted sourdough and a big coffee. The three of them talked about work, they all work in the same industry but for three different companies, meaning I could sit back and not have to join in until the caffeine had done its thing. When breakfast arrived we were all ready for the food and we ate for the first couple of minutes in a silence that indicated how good the food was. After a while Fancy asked me where in Australia I had been and still had to visit. I set out my itinerary, which would take me through all the states and territories apart from Western Australia and Tasmania. Lara asked me if I wanted to have a look at her “Map of Tassie”. The others laughed but the reference was lost on me. Lara explained. I declined the offer.

After a quiet afternoon I headed in to town to meet Ben, a friend I used to work with. He was over on business with Will, one of the partners from my old department. He had suggested dinner and a few drinks given we had both ended up in the same bit of the world. It would give us a good chance to catch up and it also meant that he could have a bit of different company for an evening instead of having to dine with just Will, which he had had to do on a number of occasions. I had done an away job with Will once before and had ended up in a rather nice restaurant having a somewhat awkward candlelit dinner with him. I hoped it looked like I was out with a colleague rather than people thinking he was my sugar daddy. I had always got on with Will but having spent a lot of time working with him conversation over dinner was a little stifled. He had mentioned a new project that was about to start and asked if I wanted to work on it. I really didn’t want to end up on the project so I told him that I felt I would be conflicted, as I knew the head of litigation on the opposing side. He asked how I knew them and I replied that it was my ex-boyfriend. That met with an “Aaah” and a minute or five of uncomfortable silence before conversation resumed. I had stumbled upon the perfect way of getting out of any projects I didn’t want to work on in the future.

I arrived at Ben’s hotel and the receptionist called up to let him know I was here. We made a beeline for the hotel bar, grabbed a couple of beers and found a table in the corner. He confessed that he hadn’t really had much time to read my blog and asked for the condensed version to bring him up to speed. I let him off for not reading the blog knowing that he had three young children at home so free time was not something he had much of. I gave him the potted history of my eight months to date. After that conversation turned to what I thought I might do once I returned from my travels. I hadn’t really paid it too much thought, intent on delaying any thoughts of work as long as possible. Whilst we were on the topic of work I asked for an update on the office gossip. It was a typical office so the gossip was typical too – people not getting along with each other, the rumours of an affair or two, who was up for promotion and people being upset about recent changes in where their desk was. Plus ça change…

We were joined a little later by Will, who promptly ordered a round of drinks. He was dressed in his suit trousers and a shirt. I said I felt a little underdressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He explained that he didn’t really do casual, his wardrobe consisting of business attire or clothes he did the gardening in. He was only a few months away from retirement and a lot more relaxed than I had ever seen him. After being asked I gave him an even more condensed (and selectively edited) version of my trip to date. We headed off for dinner, the hotel having recommended a good steak restaurant nearby. Will seemingly survives on a diet of things red – meat and wine. Nothing else. He views vegetables as a decoration and not part of the meal. We found the restaurant, Rare Steakhouse, and were shown to our table. Having looked through the menu I could see why it had appealed. The menu consisted of steaks of various sizes and cuts with a few token other dishes added on. It wasn’t a restaurant you would even consider bringing a vegetarian to and there was one vegetarian option for the main course. It didn’t have a name; it was just called “Vegetarian”. I imagined if you tried to order it some huge alarm would go off and you would be asked to leave. I opted for what I thought would be the lightest starter, a baked mushroom with feta cheese, steering well clear of the pork ribs (available in half or full kilo servings). Main courses were steaks all round and some red wine was ordered, poured and drank. It didn’t take Will long (about half a glass) to give me his thoughts on the office goings on.

The food was amazing although the starter was so big I was feeling quite full before we had even got to our steaks. I was pleased when they said there would be a little bit of a wait for our main course to arrive. That gave us plenty of time to get on to a second bottle of red. As our main courses arrived – steak, cooked to perfection (medium rare) – I was asked about plans for the future and I said that I wasn’t sure at the moment. Will asked me if I planned on turning my blog into a book and I said that it would be nice if that happened, adding that if it was published I was hopeful that a friend of mine would turn it into 80 Gays the stage show. I don’t know if it was the background noise or me not paying enough attention to listening to the conversation but I thought Will said “That will require a lot of sex changes won’t it?”. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “Sex changes?” I queried. “Set changes. Set changes” came back the response. I really do need to get my hearing checked. In lieu of dessert we had a bottle of dessert wine and a coffee.

When the bill arrived I got my wallet out to pay my share but Will insisted on picking up the bill. I thanked him and as we left the restaurant I wished him well for his upcoming retirement, he wished me well for the rest of my trip. I said goodbye to Ben and said that I would hopefully catch up with him upon my return to London. I got back to Damian’s around 10:30pm. Damian was home from work and we filled each other in on our respective days. It was a Saturday night and he asked if I wanted to go out partying. I told him that I was currently nursing a small food baby and it was making me sleepy. I didn’t need any more alcohol and could do with a quiet night after a couple of days of partying. He seemed relieved and we settled in for the evening, putting on a Kath & Kim doy-voy-doy. It was ny-oice, different, un-ewes-yewl.

“You'd have steak when the job was done”
Lyrics from You Can’t Get a Man with a Gun from the musical Annie Get Your

Something has changed

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Fri, 15 Jun 2012 17:01:00 +0000

Something has changed within me

Something has changed within me

I woke the next morning to find myself on a half-deflated airbed. Either I hadn’t blown it up enough while tipsy the previous night or it had been leaking air in the night. I contemplated trying to snooze for a while but could feel something sticking in me (not like that), something under the airbed, and it made it difficult to get comfortable. I finally got up, lifting the airbed to see one of my trainers underneath. Not quite the Princess and the Pea but not far off. Damian was up and headed off to work so I took myself in to town in search of an internet connection and some coffee. I found a coffee shop and settled myself in to a corner table with a late breakfast. I had a few friend requests from the people at the party the previous day, including one from the cute guy. I sent him a message saying it had been nice meeting him and that I hoped to see him again before I left Melbourne. As I was online booking a couple of trips for when I got to Uluru a friend of mine popped up on Skype so we had a bit of a catch up.

My friend told me I looked a little tired (I think his exact words were “F**k you look rough”) and I explained that it was the morning after Australia Day. They asked me how the celebrations had been and I filled them in on the party I had been to and the people I had met. My friend said it sounded like a soap opera storyline, although people would think it too unrealistic. Our conversation got me thinking, something which I hadn’t done too much of on my trip. I had been so busy seeing the sights, meeting people and having fun that I hadn’t had a chance to take a step back and take note of how I had changed. Before I set off travelling I had only ever met one transgender person before. I would have been nervous about meeting trans women but mainly because I would be worried about saying something stupid or finding myself staring at them without realising. By the time I had been travelling for nearly 8 months I was a lot more relaxed in myself and meeting new people was something I had got a lot better at. My travels have made me realise that, whatever differences people have and everyone has them – nobody is “normal”, that the only important thing is "Are they a nice person?" I struggled to think of anyone I had met on my trip who wasn’t a nice person.

With my breakfast all finished I took myself for a wander round the Museum of Melbourne for a couple of hours before I headed to meet up with Leo for a coffee. He was a friend of Gary, my Texas host, and he and his husband had offered to host me if any of my Melbourne gays fell through. I hadn’t needed to take them up on the offer but wanted to meet them so I could at least say thanks in person. Craig was out of town with work so it was just the two of us. We headed to a place with some outdoor seating, thankfully in the shade. My good intentions of having coffee went out the window when I saw the woman on the next table sipping a refreshing looking cider with plenty of ice. I figured in the heat I needed to rehydrate and with all the apples in the cider it must be one of my five a day. We had a good chat over a couple of drinks before I headed off to freshen up before a Friday night out on the town.

Evening plans started with a little more drinking. A bunch of people from the previous day’s celebrations had arranged to meet for drinks at the Arts Centre so I made my way to join them. It was a warm evening and everyone was outside so after getting a drink I headed outside to join them. I said hello to the people who I had met and was introduced to a couple of other people I had not met before. I felt like I was a bona fide member of their circle of friends and felt like I had known them a lot longer than two days. After a couple of drinks at the Arts Centre we jumped into a couple of cabs, with about as much efficiency as the previous day, and headed to a Vietnamese restaurant called Thanh Nga Nine. It was a regular haunt for the gang and I got the impression that Samm and Karen were frequent diners. Samm called them and managed to get a table for 12 on a Friday night with an hours notice.

Our taxi had arrived first so we settled in at the table while a couple of people went to the bottle shop for some provisions. I spent about 10 minutes looking at the menu without actually reading it. With people arriving, chatting, heading to the bottle shop and swapping seats around nobody was really paying much attention to the menu. It had the potential for taking forever to get our order sorted. Thankfully Samm took charge. After having checked that there were no vegetarians in the group she ordered for us, assuring us that everything was delicious and there would be enough to go round. It made it so much easier and I was grateful that the decision was out of my hands. She was right too, the food was amazing and there was more than enough to go round.

Over dinner I chatted with Samm, Karen and Damian about places that I thought I could live. None of them were native Australians and they gave me their experiences of moving across the world. Having been in Australia for just over a month I had come to the conclusion that I didn’t think I would be able to live Down Under. Melbourne was a great city and I think I preferred it to Sydney but I couldn’t see myself living there. I had enjoyed the places I had visited and the people I had met but Australia felt a little bit small (despite it being a huge country) and isolated. I wasn’t sure I wanted to run the risk of picking up an Australian accent either and having everything I said sounding like a question.

We followed dinner with a little bit of a tour of the Melbourne gay scene. We started in DT’s and I came to the conclusion that it was actually a second home for most of the gang. We got drinks and stood chatting, minding our own business when some random drunk guy came over to where we were standing and started to dance about. Karen very politely danced with him for a little while. I was just relived that for once the nutter hadn’t made a beeline for me. The dancing came to an abrupt end when the man fell over. He made a half-hearted attempt to turn his tumble onto the floor into a dance move but gave it up as a bad job. Karen shrugged her shoulders and carried on dancing. After DT’s we went to The Laird where the other clientele made me feel relatively young and in shape. I was even out-bearded by the majority of the other people in there. Our final stop of the evening was the Peel. It was a massive club and had a younger crowd. I probably made them feel relatively young and in shape. We partied until about 3am and then headed home. I checked under the airbed for shoes and hit the sack.

“Something has changed within me”
Lyrics from Defying Gravity from the musical Wicked

Flirt a little maybe

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Fri, 08 Jun 2012 13:14:00 +0000

Flirt a little maybe

Flirt a little maybe

I was up early on Australia Day and following my earlier conversation with Bec and her friends in Brisbane I knew what I would be celebrating later in the day. I thanked Kylie for a fun few days in Adelaide with her and her family before being dropped at the airport. I was on my way back to Melbourne, the place where I had started my Australian adventures over a month previously. I was staying with Damian who I had been introduced to by Other Dale when I was staying with Dale. That was the night we had all gone out and triumphed in the pub quiz. I landed on time, dropping Damian a message to let him know that I was on my way from the airport.

I had directions on how to get to Damian’s but when I arrived into Melbourne I found the road the tram I had to catch was closed for a big procession. I decided to try and get to the end of the procession in the hope that the trams would be running further along the line. I had to go against the flow of people, which with a large suitcase in tow was not such an easy task, especially as the crowds were more interested in watching the procession, rather than watching where they were walking. After a minute or so of making slow progress I decided to try pushing my suitcase in front of me rather than pulling it behind me. It made my progress a little quicker as I used the suitcase a little like a snowplough to part the crowds. I only took out one small child who wasn’t watching where he was going. Thankfully I soon reached the end and the road was open. The tram was running and I hopped on.

I had not had any response from Damian by the time I arrived at his. I knocked on the door and was thrown slightly when a woman opened it. I explained that I was a friend of Damian’s. Her response was “Oh yes, you’re the gay who is staying with us”. At least I had the right house and Damian had briefed whoever the woman was. We did proper introductions and I found out she was Lara, one of Damian’s housemates. She invited me in & offered me a cup of tea. I declined and we instantly bonded over a mutual indifference of the drink. She got me a glass of water and we sat in the lounge and chatted for a while until Damian surfaced. He had been out the night before and it had been a late one. He apologised for not being up and ready for my arrival, I told him not to worry. I asked what the plans were for Australia Day and he said that we were off to a house party for drinks and a barbecue. I was told that this was a fairly standard approach to celebrating Australia Day. I asked who was hosting and Damian said it was some friends of his, Sammantha and Karen. He said they were a lovely couple and that they had extended the invitation to me after hearing about my visit, which was very nice of them. Almost as an afterthought Damian added “Oh, and they are transgender lesbians”.

Once everyone was ready we headed up the road to purchase some beers and food to take with us. Lara said that she was going “to do a bucket of cheese”. I was scared to ask what she meant and was relieved when she picked up a large tub of halloumi cheese in the shop. The shop had an offer on “Rim water” (cue much giggling at the sign) and the butcher next door where we got our meat had a deal on “lamb butts”. Once back at the house we were joined by Ryan and after introductions I recounted the tales of my travels to date. I suspected it would be a story well told by the end of the day after meeting lots of new people at the party. We called for a taxi, loaded it with our supplies and headed over to Samm and Karen’s for the party.

I was introduced to Samm & Karen and I thanked them for the invite. Samm said I was more than welcome and any friend of Damian’s was a friend of theirs. Samm got us all drinks and then showed us out to the back garden. There were already about a dozen people there and having made sure the rest of our beers were on ice introductions were done. I knew I would struggle to remember all of the names but committed the name of one of the guys that I thought was cute to memory. The majority of the other people seemed to know each other and were all chatting away. The day was getting hot and soon the back garden was filling up with people as more guests arrived. After chatting to a few of the people there and telling them my story I needed a bit of a break from talking so I headed into the kitchen to help Lara with her bucket of cheese. It was a good joint effort - Lara sliced the cheese, fried it all, plated it up and gave a good squeeze of a fresh lemon over it. I carried the serving plate out to the waiting gays and took all the credit for it. I made a lap of the garden during which time the plate was quickly emptied. I headed back in to find Lara frying up another batch. She commented on how quickly it had all gone. I said that I had received a number of compliments on how tasty it was and what a good chef I was. Lara took the second plate out.

By the time I headed back out the barbecue was in full swing with Karen taking charge of cooking. I had once had a discussion with some friends as to who is second in the barbecue cooking hierarchy, after straight men. I argued that it would be women. The two women I was with argued it would be gay men. I ended up losing the argument on that occasion and had to do the cooking. I was complimented on having “a neat meat arrangement”. I said that whilst it looked nice and tidy on the barbecue I couldn’t guarantee it was cooked properly. Karen had no such issue on the large gas barbecue she was using. I can see the benefits of a gas barbecue but feel sorry for the generation of children growing up who will never get to toast a marshmallow over the glowing embers and still eat it after accidentally getting ash all over it.

The afternoon was spent eating, drinking and chatting to new friends. It was a scene that would be repeated across the whole of Australia – a group of friends celebrating together, beers chilling in an ice-filled esky, the barbecue going and laughter and conversation filling the air. LGBT people do the same things that straight people do, just better dressed and with a better soundtrack. It was nice to be part of it and I had been made to feel very welcome. I even got to chat to the cute guy for a while. He worked in a gym and it was possible to tell he was fit even without him taking his shirt off. He seemed like a sweet guy so I didn’t subject him to my attempts at flirting and instead we just chatted for a while.

As the party started to wind down a small group of us headed off to DT’s to carry on the celebrations. Trying to get seven tipsy gay men into two taxis seemed to take an inordinate length of time but we were soon on our way. Getting seven tipsy men out of two taxis at the other end when we were close to beer took a lot less time. DT’s was lively when we got there and it looked like a lot of people had been enjoying the day off. I remember we had a few jugs of beer and there was a bit of dancing and singing before we headed back to Damian’s. We got home around midnight which I thought was fairly early until I was reminded we had started at midday. I was awake long enough to blow up the airbed, which I should have done before while sober. Fortunately there was an electric pump so I didn’t have to inflate it manually. I wouldn’t have had enough puff to do it.

“Flirt a little maybe”
Lyrics from Does Your Mother Know from the musical Mamma Mia

I took some grapes

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Mon, 28 May 2012 17:22:00 +0000

I took some grapes and I crushed them to wine

I took some grapes

My time in Brisbane was at an end. I was up early to get to the airport, Bec was up early to get to work. I thanked her again for being such a great host and for taking a giant leap in offering to host me on the basis of out first meeting as strangers in the same bar. I was at the airport with enough time to get some breakfast before my flight to Adelaide, via Melbourne (the indirect flight a result of booking using my miles and paying less than a tenner rather than forking out a few hundred dollars on a direct flight). We were a little late leaving Brisbane and my connection was quite tight but thankfully the gate I arrived into in Melbourne and the gate I was leaving from were right next to each other. They had just started boarding my connecting flight as I got off my flight. I crossed my fingers and hoped that my suitcase had enough time to make the connection. I had gone nearly eight months without my case going astray and the short connection time made this the most likely time so far that I would end up being parted from my luggage. At Adelaide I was pleasantly surprised to see my case amongst the first few on the carousel.

I was in Adelaide to stay with a friend I used to work with, Kylie. I figured no trip to Australia would be complete without staying with at least one person called Kylie and I couldn’t see an invite from Ms Minogue landing in my inbox any time soon. Kylie is straight so I had explained that whilst it would be great to stay with her and catch up she wouldn’t count towards my target of 80 gays for obvious reasons. This didn’t bother her in the slightest so we had arranged my visit. I hadn’t seen her in about seven years since she left London to return to her native Australia. Since she had returned she had met a man, got married and had two kids. I reflected on my achievements in the same period – no husband, no kids but I had grown a beard. Kylie had come to collect me from the airport and after finding her in the car park I put my case in the boot of the car and got into the passenger seat. I was introduced to her two kids who were in the back seats, one looking rather chocolate covered. Once back at the house I was drafted in to help Kylie with the kids. She explained their evening routine and the promise of wine and adult conversation once they were in bed was enough motivation for me to help out. I’m not sure I provided too much assistance but the kids were fed, bathed and put to bed after watching an episode of Fireman Sam. Kylie opened a bottle of wine and poured us both a large glass, asking if I was hungry. After two onboard “meals” on my flights I said that I wasn’t massively hungry but could always pick at something. Kylie laid out a veritable feast of meats, cheeses, olives, crackers and nibbles.

Kylie is really well travelled and we chatted a lot about the various places we had both been. She told me about a trip she had done 15 years previously where she had gone on a big trip around Africa with a friend of hers. At the time Kylie was living in Australia and her friend was living in London. They had organised the entire trip using snail mail, sending letters backwards and forwards, often with copies of travel brochures or photocopies of stuff. This was before the internet had really caught on and before most people had even heard of an email address. If they needed to decide anything quickly they had spoken on the phone. Calls had been brief because of the cost. There was no Skype. I was fortunate that the whole internet thing had caught on. My trip wouldn’t have been possible without it. I couldn’t imagine trying to find 80 Gays to stay with and having to make contact with them all by letter. I had found a number of hosts by sticking a status update saying “I need a gay in such-and-such a place”. It also meant that I could be flexible in my schedule and a number of times on my journey I had made last minute bookings and headed somewhere that I hadn’t originally planned on going.

Given I wasn’t that hungry I helped demolish a good proportion of the food while Kylie opened a second bottle of wine. Her husband, Damien, returned from work and we were introduced. He settled himself down across the table with a glass of wine and we were soon chatting. He was very laid back and easy to chat to and fairly soon a third bottle of wine was being opened. I was fairly tipsy by the time I headed to bed. I woke the following morning and could hear that everyone else was already up. I tried to stay out of the way but once the kids realised I was up there was little chance of staying in bed undisturbed. Once the kids were ready for nursery Kylie left to drop them at nursery on her way to work. Once I was ready I walked into town with Damien. He was off to the cricket. I went to spend a day checking out Adelaide. I had been told that I would probably only really need a day to see the city. Kylie had booked the following day off work so that we could go up to the Barossa Valley to visit a couple of vineyards.

After Damien had pointed me in the right direction from the cricket ground I ambled slowly along by the river for a while. The temperature was already soaring and I sought refuge in the art gallery and had a good look round. I managed to see a lot of it without interruption as the place was quiet. The museum next door was a different matter with kids running around and screaming. I stayed about five minutes. I got myself some lunch and went and found a shaded spot in the Botanic Gardens in which to enjoy it. I had a small post lunch rest listening to my iPod. I must have dozed off because the album I was listening to had finished & I only remembered listening to the first couple of tracks. I had managed to fall asleep partly in the shade, partly in the sun. I was sure one of my legs looked more tanned than the other. Combined with my t shirt tan lines I bore a strong resemblance to a liquorice allsort (a brown and white stripey one not a pink or blue bobbly one). I had a wander round the gardens before making my way back up to Kylie’s. I stopped in at a bottle shop on the way to pick up a couple of bottles to replace the ones we had got through the previous night. Kylie returned from the work complete with children and I once again assisted with the feeding & cleaning routine. We only had the one bottle of wine after the kids had gone to bed.

I crushed them to wine

My final day in Adelaide saw me head out with Kylie to the Barossa Valley. She had very bravely agreed to take me to a couple of vineyards despite me recounting my tales of the Hunter Valley and laughing at every mention of a Semillon. Our day out would see us take in a couple of big name places and our first stop was the Wolf Blass winery. We started our wine tasting. I did the wine tasting, Kylie watched as she was driving and saving herself so that she could have a glass of wine with lunch. It was a lot different to the organised tour that I had done with Claire. Because it was midweek it was quiet and the guy doing our tasting spent a lot of time with us, telling us about the wines and answering my random questions. I found out lots of interesting things such as why they ship so much to the UK, why it is cheaper to buy a bottle in the UK and which wineries ship wine in massive sea container sized pouches rather than bottling it. I pictured getting one delivered once I was back home and getting a tap fixed onto it – the ultimate wine box!

After Wolf Blass, where I bought Kylie a bottle of something to have at home given she couldn’t really drink as she had to drive, we headed to Jacob’s Creek. Kylie had recommended we have lunch there. We had a little time before our lunch to sample some of the wines so we made our way to the bar. My gaydar went off as we approached and even Kylie commented on how the guy serving us had the qualifications to have been one of my hosts. I tried a few different wines, no Semillons, before lunch. Kylie had been right about the food. We had an amazing meal while we sat looking out at the vineyards. It was a great spot. Kylie had a glass of wine with lunch and then sensibly used the breathalyser machine in the bar to check she was ok to drive. I had never seen one before and it seemed like a good idea. I didn't have a go on it, concerned what 8 months of nearly daily drinking would do for my blood alcohol levels. After leaving Jacob's Creek we stopped at a small winery, one of Damien’s favourites, so Kylie could pick him a bottle or two up for their wine cellar. They had some great wines although I had to admit to not being able to tell the difference between a $30 bottle of Shiraz and a $300 bottle. I know that if I had had $300 to spend I would have been leaving the winery with 10 bottles of Shiraz and not one.

We finished our day by heading to Maggie Beer's. When Kylie had mentioned it I had thought it was a brewery but it turned out to be a farm shop run by a woman called Maggie Beer. I had no idea who she is but as far as I can tell she is the Australian equivalent of Delia Smith. We had coffee and some homemade ice cream and then got to see the woman herself. Having seen her in person I was still none the wiser. Once back at Kylie’s I did some admin, booking to climb the Harbour Bridge when I was back in Sydney. My sister and Mother had given me cash for my birthday the previous month and I had decided to use it to do something a little special. That would be their present to me. I checked myself in for my flight for the following day, did some laundry and had an early night ahead of an early start to get to Melbourne ready to celebrate Australia Day.

“I took some grapes and I crushed them to wine”
Lyrics from Go, go, go Joseph from the musical Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat

The name game

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Fri, 18 May 2012 19:30:00 +0000

You found a partner easy, the name game was the only game in town

You found a partner easy
Saturday evening in Brisbane, a week since I had met Bec. She had a birthday party to attend so I was left to my own devices. I had been in touch with Gavin, one of my future hosts for when I got to Canberra, who was in town for work. We had decided to meet up for some dinner to meet face to face before I went to stay with him and his other half, Rob. I was on my best behaviour as I wanted to make sure the invitation to stay wasn’t withdrawn after Gavin had met me. Bec had given me some suggestions for places to go and we had settled on an Indian restaurant. It was BYO and there was a bottle shop next door. We were soon settled in dinner and conversation flowed as easily as the booze. Gavin gave me a potted history of his life and their recent move to Canberra, I gave an even more condensed history of my travels, both of us aware that when I met Rob in a couple of weeks time I would get the same questions. The combination of the warm Brisbane night and the spicy Indian food soon had me sweating like a whore in church. The food and company were both good and afterwards we headed back to our respective accommodation. I was confident that I wasn’t going to be on the receiving end of an email saying that they could no longer host me.

On Sunday Bec suggested we head out of Brisbane to take in a few surrounding places. Bec explained that she didn’t do much driving and that she was a little bit rusty. I said that I couldn’t even drive so was in no position to judge or comment on her driving skills. After a couple of minutes of Bec driving us through suburban Brisbane I felt totally relaxed in the passenger seat. I was even relaxed enough to open my eyes and stop gripping the dashboard. We collected a friend of Bec’s and headed off. I was in charge of navigating. We had looked at the route on the map before we had set off. We had both giggled when we had spotted that the route suggested took us through a place called Bald Knob. The drive up was pleasant and Bec pointed out the Glasshouse Mountains and the Australia Zoo on the way up. We chuckled at the street sign as we passed through Bald Knob. The main street in Maleny, our first stop, was lined with shops and cafés and we parked up to find somewhere for food. We found a table outside one of the cafés and ordered our lunch.

I was still feeling full from the curry of the previous night so I decided to go healthy and ordered a salad. Once the food arrived I had immediate food envy, Bec sat opposite me tucking into a huge burger complete with a multitude of toppings. Including beetroot. Why? To me beetroot should be reserved for use solely in a nice cheese sandwich but I had noticed that in Australia it was liberally shoved into every sandwich going. Even McDonald’s (or Maccies as the Australians with the penchant for shortening everything called it) had a burger with beetroot in it – the McOz. McOdd if you ask me. It still didn’t stop me envying the burger. Bec was kind enough to let me help her with her potato wedges. After lunch we got back in the car and headed to the Kondalilla National Park. We had a really nice hike around the park, stopping to watch people swimming in one of the pools before climbing down the valley to the bottom of the falls. The climb back up was hard work but we made it.

The name game was the only game in town

On the drive back I introduced Bec and her friend to the love/minge song game. Before we knew it we were back in Brisbane. Having parked the car, showered and changed we headed out for a quiet Sunday evening drink. We started out at a place called the Brisbane Powerhouse, an arts centre and theatre with a great bar and terrace overlooking the river. The crowd on a Sunday is mixed and Bec assured me there would be plenty for us both to look at. The outside tables were all full and having got our drinks we hovered for a while, waiting for a space to open up. We stayed outside for a while, picking out people on the other tables and deciding what their story was. After a while the rain drove us inside and we found a spot on a sofa. At the other side of the table from us were two guys. Bec and I agreed it was a second or third date. As we pondered what people would be thinking about us if they were playing the game (we decided on “poor woman, clearly doesn’t realise her boyfriend is a huge homosexual”) Bec filled me in on some of the finer details of dating in the lesbian world. She had enough stories and advice on dating lesbians to write a book. I told her that she should, even coming up with a catchy title – 101 Ways to Crack a Lesbian.

After a drink at a bar on the way back from Powerhouse we decided to have one final nightcap in the Wickham, the place we had first met. It seemed somehow fitting and we even managed to secure the same table we had been sat at. As it was a Sunday evening the place was a lot quieter than the previous time I had visited. Bec headed to the bar to get us some drinks. On the next table was a guy who looked in his early twenties and was sat alone. It was just like me the previous week, apart from the looking like I was in my early twenties bit. I caught his attention and said that if he was on his own he could join us. It was the first time in a long time that I had done that but my trip had given me a new found appreciation for how daunting it can be to sit on your own in a bar. I was surprised at how easy it had been to ask him over and I vowed that I would be better at being nice like that when I got back home. Soho could definitely do with a few more friendly people.

Bec came back from the bar, hanging back from the table slightly, in my eye line. She gave me a look as if to say “Should I leave you two to it?”. I introduced Bec to our new friend, Rowan. He was quite shy but joined in the conversation and I think he appreciated not having to sit on his own. Our nightcap turned out to be a bit longer than planned. We were joined by a couple of other random people Bec had got chatting to when she went to the bar. One of the guys introduced himself as Rhino. I asked him if that was his stage name but he assured me it wasn’t. He said he could show me something to prove he was a Rhino. I was a little scared at what he wanted to show me so I said I believed him. It had been a great final day in Brisbane. Sunday was definitely a funday and we finally returned to the Gaypex at 1am.

“You found a partner easy, the name game was the only game in town”
Lyrics from Continental American from the musical The Boy from Oz

Hush up

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Wed, 16 May 2012 16:44:00 +0000

Hush up, don't tell Mama

Hush up
My journey back to Brisbane on the bus was a lot easier than the previous trip to Mooloolaba. They had my booking details down correctly so I didn’t have to spend the journey being called “Christine” by the driver and I knew how to pronounce “Brisbane” so it was easy to make sure I was on the right bus. I arrived early afternoon and found myself a coffee shop where I could have some lunch and get internet access while I waited for Bec to finish work. I was a little nervous about staying with Bec but more for her sake than mine. This was a new feeling for me on my trip despite staying with a number of hosts I had never met before. I wondered if it was because Bec was female? I had messaged her a couple of times during the week to make sure she was still ok to host me and give her an opportunity to change her mind. I had stayed with people I had only met on my trip before but there had been a couple of months between me meeting them and them hosting me. I had only met Bec six days before but there had been an instant connection.

Bec arrived early evening, finding me in the coffee shop and giving me a big hug. I finished my coffee, packed my laptop away and we headed for the bus to her place. I was about to see the Gaypex, her apartment, so called because it formed a neat triangle with two of Brisbane’s gay venues. On the way to hers Bec told me that she was cooking dinner and that several of her friends would be joining us. It would be a mix of people too – gays, lesbians, a bisexual, straight men and straight women. She also explained that most of the friends who would be joining us were coming to make sure she was ok and that the random gay guy she had invited to stay (me) was not a nutter. I felt reassured that her and her friends were taking some precautions, lovely though that I am. Having dropped off my luggage we headed across the road to the bottle shop so that I could pick up some wine to have with dinner. As I scanned the bottles in the fridge I spotted some wine from one of the vineyards I had visited a couple of weeks before with my friend Claire. They had a Semillon and I started laughing as I picked a couple of bottles out of the fridge. Bec looked at me puzzled and I explained the story. Thankfully she found it amusing and told me that we were going to get on well this weekend. Purchases made we headed back to hers. I went to freshen up while Bec made a start on dinner.

Bec cooked her signature dish, pork tenderloin wrapped in Parma ham, a creation she called Pork Schlong. It certainly lived up to the hype that she had given it and it allowed numerous double entendres to be made over dinner. We polished off every inch of her schlong. Dinner felt a little like a panel interview at times and I think I passed the scrutiny of her friends. Dinner also came with the realisation that of the eight people sat at the table I was the oldest, which at the age of 34, was something novel for me. I could not remember the last time I was the oldest person at a dinner party. Conversation turned to what people had planned for Australia Day the following week. After everyone had discussed the various plans they had I asked, “What does Australia Day actually commemorate?” as I didn’t know and I figured I probably should find out. There was a slight pause before any of the Australians ventured an answer. A couple of people admitted that they had no idea what it actually commemorated, all they knew is they got the day off work. There was a deferral to Wikipedia for a definitive answer (it commemorates the arrival of the First Fleet into Sydney Cove in 1788 in case you were wondering). I think the advent of mobile devices where something can be Googled instantly has altered the art of dinner conversation somewhat. Things no longer need to be discussed and argued when someone can simply look up who is correct.

After dinner there was suggestion of heading to Sporties for some karaoke. We decided to open another bottle of wine while we finalised a plan for the evening. Two hours later, plans for the remainder of the evening had still not been agreed but because of the lateness of the hour Sporties was no longer a viable karaoke spot as there would be a long list of would-be pop stars already signed up waiting for their turn to sing. I couldn’t see the problem in that as it meant I wouldn’t have to sing. Instead we headed over to Paul’s as he had what we needed to continue our evening – wine and Singstar. His place was about a ten-minute walk and the route we took saw us head down a street that was lined with straight pubs and clubs. It was late Friday night and the street was very busy. I had been warned before we left that the place would be “full of bogans”. Having looked around at some of the bogans I introduced Bec to the phrase greyhound skirt, pointing out several great examples. Once at Paul’s we had a few drinks and sat out on the patio before finally calling it a night around 3am. Thankfully the Singstar never made an appearance.

Don't tell Mama

The following morning Bec and I went to get some coffee before getting the bus over to Hamilton. She had suggested a walk along the river and then lunch in one of her favourite restaurants, Byblos. The food was great and we ended up getting a few different dishes to share. I love that style of dining, it feels much friendlier and you get to try more dishes than you would otherwise. One of the topics of conversation over lunch was dating, and in particular, the point at which you tell certain friends and family you are seeing someone. For me there were two or three friends who knew pretty much everything from the start. They are told when I met someone, when I have a first date and how it all went. As I have got older, the length of time between me starting to see someone and me telling Mother about them has increased. I am probably at the point where I would now only tell her about someone if they made it to about the six-month mark. This hadn’t happened in quite a few years and she had stopped asking if I am seeing anyone. There had been a run of four successive boyfriends I had introduced to Mother over the space of a couple of years and within a month of boyfriend and Mother meeting I would be single again. I am sure that it is purely coincidence and no reflection on Mother but it became a standing joke with my friends that if I was dating someone and it wasn’t going that well they would ask “So when are they meeting your mother?”.

“Hush up, don't tell Mama”
Lyrics from Don’t Tell Mama from the musical Cabaret

Two on the shore

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Mon, 14 May 2012 18:38:00 +0000

One in the surf, two on the shore

One in the surf

Sunday in Brisbane was a write-off, thanks to a combination of me getting home at gone 3am after checking out the Brisbane gay scene, a small hangover and the constant rain that was pounding my hotel room window. I decided that it would be the first “duvet day” of my trip and was surprised that I had made it seven and a half months without having had one. I still had another full day in Brisbane to do some more sightseeing so I didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything major by spending the day inside. Thankfully I had all the things necessary for me to cope with a hangover/duvet day – Diet Coke, Haribo Tangfastics, hummus and tortilla chips, some bad films on the TV and a duvet. I got a text from Bec, the lesbian I had met the night before, saying that she was sober, she had thought it her offer through and the invitation to stay the weekend with her at the Gaypex was still valid. I told her in that case I would be delighted to have her as one of my hosts.

By the next morning I was back to my old self and was up and out early. The weather looked like it was going to behave and I made my way down to the South Bank, stopping for a coffee on the way. I headed over to the Queensland Museum but it was closed for renovations. I carried on, heading past the Performing Arts Centre where Mary Poppins was playing. As I looked up at the advertisement for it I smiled as it reminded me of one of the nicknames we had for my sister when we were growing up. We would call her “Mary” on account of her habit of saying that she was “just poppin’ out”. I supposed it stopped the nickname being used for me. I gave the Wheel of Brisbane a miss, the grey skies didn’t bode well for getting great photos from the top. I walked along the South Bank, taking in the Nepalese Peace Pagoda and Streets Beach before getting round to the Kangaroo Point Cliffs. I stopped to get a photo of Dean and Horse next to the river, nearly losing him into the water when an unexpected gust of wind made him topple over. Marcella and Sarah would have never forgiven me had I lost him.

I carried on all the way along the river and it was a great walk. I finally reached the end of the path, ready to cross the Story Bridge, which loomed above me. There didn’t seem to be a way up on to the bridge so I had to retrace my steps until I saw a street that seemed promising. The walk across the river afforded some great views of the downtown area and I got some good photos looking back across the city. I called in at the supermarket on my way back to pick up something for dinner. I avoided picking up a bottle of wine and was impressed by my own self-control. I had a quiet final evening in Brisbane, ready for moving on once again. The following morning I was up and had a coffee, showered and packed before heading down to the bus station. I was off up the Sunshine Coast for a couple of days having got a cheap deal on a hotel in a place called Mooloolaba.

I arrived at the bus stop with plenty of time to spare so took a seat in the shelter trying to stay dry from the drizzle that was falling. Shortly after a minibus pulled up and the driver got out. He headed off, returning five minutes later with his lunch. I asked him if his was the bus to Mooloolaba. I had no idea how the place name should sound, my pronunciation of it was something like “Moo-loo-lar-bar”. He said it wasn’t. I sat back down and waited. Ten minutes later a woman arrived and spoke to the driver, who opened up the trailer at the back of the minibus so she could put her backpack in before she climbed in. I heard him say that he was just waiting on one other passenger although “he didn’t know where she was”. It was getting close to the time that my bus was due to leave so I spoke to the driver once again, this time retrieving the email with my booking confirmation to show him. He looked at it and said “Ah, Ma-lool-aba” before telling me his was the right bus. I was the other passenger he was waiting for. He explained that as I had booked quite late they had phoned my booking through to him, giving him my name. He had misheard them say “Chris Tune” and thought the booking was in the name of “Christine”.

Confusion all sorted out, I got on the bus and we headed north up to The Sunshine Coast. We arrived in torrential rain. I power minced to the hotel, trying my best to slalom around the massive puddles that were forming. Once at the hotel I checked in, the receptionist pointing out the where I would find various facilities including the swimming pool. I looked at her, rainwater dripping from my nose and onto the reception desk and said that I would probably give the pool a miss for the time being. It cleared up long enough that evening for me to go out and get some dinner without getting soaked again. After a night in watching a bit of the tennis and catching up on some writing I headed for bed, hoping that by morning the Sunshine Coast would live up to its name.

Two on the shore

Rescue me...

The following day the skies were still off grey but at least it wasn’t raining. I decided to go out for a walk and to see the area. I wandered all the way down to the far end of the beach and back again. There were a lot of families about because of the school holidays and seeing everyone laughing and chatting with friends and family made me feel a little lonely. I tried to focus on the fact that after Mooloolaba I had hosts lined up in Brisbane, Adelaide, Melbourne, Canberra and Sydney and that apart from a couple of days where I planned to go to Uluru I would have company until I left Australia in just under a month’s time. After lunch, some writing and a snooze I woke to find that the skies had cleared and the sun was finally shining. I headed back down to the beach and did exactly the same walk that I had done several hours earlier. It is amazing how much difference the sun can make. That, and sitting and watching fit men in little Speedos doing their surf lifeguard training. As I was sat watching them training my camera accidentally went off a couple of times. I dined alone once more, cooking dinner for myself and having a fairly early night.

The sun was shining again the following morning so I took advantage and made my way down to the beach with my book and my iPod. I found myself a quiet spot and settled down on the sand, shedding my t-shirt and rolling my shorts up. It gave me a chance to try and get rid of the t-shirt tan lines that I had from walking around in the sun. I managed a couple of hours on the beach before the need for some lunch, and a beer, got the better of me. I headed to one of the little cafés on the front and got myself a sandwich and a cold beer. After lunch I headed back down to the beach to see if there was any more surf lifeguard training going on but there wasn’t. I spent the evening sat on the balcony in the sun having a glass (bottle) of wine and watching the Andy Murray match. The couple of days up the coast had flown by and it was soon time to head back to Brisbane to stay with Bec.

“One in the surf, two on the shore”
Lyrics from Hundreds of Girls from the musical Mack and Mabel

Follow our instinct

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Sun, 13 May 2012 17:14:00 +0000

We can either follow our instinct or take advice from every joker

We can either follow our instinct
After a few quiet days in Cairns I headed to Brisbane for the weekend. An Australian friend from London had tried a couple of his friends as possible hosts but last minute changes of plans meant that I was without a host for the weekend. I decided I might as well still visit so I had looked around for a cheap hotel deal for the weekend. My arrival into Brisbane was the anniversary of the floods that had swept through the city the previous year. I hoped that my arrival into Brisbane would be a little less devastating for them. The trip from airport to city centre was quick and easy and my hotel was close to the station. Having checked in & finding out my room had a little kitchenette I decided to find a supermarket to get some provisions in and check out where the nearest gay bars were. I did some online research and found out the addresses of a couple of gay bars, marking them on the map that the receptionist had given me. I went out for a walk, heading to Fortitude Valley, the area where the gay bars were, so that I could see it in the light and know where I was headed if I decided to go out for a couple of drinks later. It was only a fifteen-minute walk to the first gay bar and was easy enough to find, even for someone like me with a bad sense of direction.

It was early Friday evening and there were already a few people sat outside drinking. I contemplated going in for a quick drink but decided against it, heading back via the supermarket where I picked up some things for dinner and a bottle of wine. Once back at the hotel I put the pasta that I had bought on to cook and set about opening wine. I opened the one drawer in the kitchenette – knives, forks, spoons and a selection of cooking utensils but no bottle opener. Bugger. I opted for the tried and tested method of pushing the cork into the bottle using the handle of a teaspoon. Hotel teaspoons are not what they used to be and my first attempt resulted in a rather bent teaspoon. As I bent it back the other way it snapped in two. Luckily the cutlery in the drawer appeared to be stocked with a random assortment of different styles and sizes of cutlery so I hoped the absence of one teaspoon would not be noticed. My second attempt was more successful and I was soon drinking wine. Out of a coffee mug. Classy. Given the cork was inside the bottle I had no choice but to finish the whole bottle. I didn’t make it out that night.

The following day I was up and out for brunch, finding a little coffee shop just down from the hotel to get my caffeine fix and some food. I had not seen much of Brisbane the previous day so I had a wander round the central business district and the main shopping streets before going for a wander round the Botanical Gardens. Having walked through them I found myself by the river just as the heavens opened. I didn’t have an umbrella and it didn’t look like it was going to be a brief shower so I did my best at trying to run from covered spot to covered spot, heading in the vague direction of the hotel. By the time I made it back I was absolutely soaked, my jeans stuck to my legs and my trainers making a squelchy sound as I walked. They were the only pair I had with me so I needed them to be dry for the evening. I stuck them on the radiator in my room and cranked the heat up as high as it would go. I spent the rest of the afternoon snoozing and writing, but mainly snoozing.

After my snooze and some dinner I showered and made myself look pretty before heading to The Wickham. Thanks to the radiator and a quick blast from the hairdryer in the hotel bathroom my trainers were dry. The weather had cleared and it was a warm and dry evening. and the tables outside the place were full. After showing my ID to the bouncer I headed in to the bar. There was hardly anyone inside although it was still fairly early in the evening and I was hopeful that it would pick up later. Having got my schooner of lager I decided the best place to attempt to get chatting to someone would be outside. I made my way back out, finding a free space on the end of one of tables. I got my phone out to look a little busy while I did a scan of the other people at the tables. It was a mixed crowd – gay boys and gay girls, twinks, older guys, a few straight people. Most people were in small groups; there were a few couples and me, seemingly the only single person there at the moment.

Take advice from every joker

I sat perched on a stool at the end of the table listening in to the conversation of the people next to me on the hope that there would soon be a way into their conversation. A guy on the next table caught my attention and said “You can smile you know?”. I had clearly been sat there with my serious face on while trying to find a way to strike up conversation with someone. My serious face, which I do when I am not relaxed, makes me look a bit scary and unapproachable which might explain why I had yet to speak to anyone. Thankfully someone had taken pity on me and I was soon chatting to the guys at the next table. They were all local and I asked them about the gay scene in Brisbane. They gave me a rundown on the different venues, the sort of people that went to them and what nights tended to be best. They told me that they were planning on heading to another gay pub, The Sportsman Hotel or Sporties for short, later in the evening. As we chatted a group of people asked if they could take the other end of the table and they settled in. I had got to the end of my drink so headed to the bar for a refill.

After a while the guys I were chatting to headed to the bar to get in one more round before leaving for Sporties. One of the guys in the group next to me asked me where I was from. I assume he had heard my accent while I had been chatting. I told him, explaining that I was in Brisbane alone, had come out for a drink and had got chatting to the other guys. I asked him what Sporties was like. He told me he thought I would be better off staying at The Wickham. We did introductions and I was introduced to the other people in his group. They were out celebrating a birthday. The consensus amongst them was that I should stay unless I had a particular thing for older men. I made a snap decision and decided to stay with my new friends of all of five minutes rather than go to Sporties with my new friends of an hour or so. I also knew my way back to the hotel from The Wickham and I wasn’t sure where Sporties was.

The new group thinned out a bit as the evening wore on and soon there were just four of us – me, Paul who had been the first to chat to me, his boyfriend Ryan and a girl called Bec. They asked what on earth had brought me to Brisbane, as the city was not the most obvious of tourist spots. I explained my trip and they were all very enthusiastic about it. Bec told me that I should stay at hers as her apartment formed a triangle with The Wickham and another gay bay called The Beat. Her apartment was the highest point on the triangle so she called it the Gay-pex. We chatted for a couple of hours over a fair few drinks before Paul & Ryan headed off. Bec and I had one more for the road. We carried on chatting for another couple of hours and I felt an instant connection to her. She asked me what my travel plans were for the rest of my time and I told her that I was off up the Sunshine Coast for a few days after Brisbane but then not sure of what else I was doing. She told me that she would put me up at hers in Brisbane the following weekend, as she would love to be part of it. I thanked her and told her to think it over in the morning (or afternoon) when she was sober and that I wouldn’t be offended if she didn’t send a sober offer. We finally parted ways at 3am, heading off to our respective beds. It had been a great night out in Brisbane.

“We can either follow our instinct or take advice from every joker”
Lyrics from Nine People’s Favorite Thing from the musical [Title of Show]

Just a kiss

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Fri, 11 May 2012 12:07:00 +0000

Never shall we meet again, just a kiss and then

Never shall we meet again

My final day in Port Douglas had arrived and it felt like it had come around really quickly. Time does fly when you are having fun and I had made some really good new friends in the little Queensland town. My first three weeks in Australia had been pretty much non-stop and, despite an offer of accommodation from someone in Cairns who had read the article on SameSame, I had booked myself into a gay resort in order to have a bit of “me” time. It seems odd taking a holiday from what is essentially a year-long holiday but I was looking forward to a few idle days of relaxing by a pool and possibly even giving my liver a couple of days off too. My final morning in Port Douglas was spent having breakfast with Jason at the coffee shop that Michael runs before saying goodbye to them both and getting the bus back down to Cairns.

The place I had checked in to was fairly quiet on the day I arrived. I only saw one other person and apart from saying hello to each other as I was shown to my room I didn’t see him again. It got a little busier on subsequent days but the clientele were all about twenty or thirty years older than me. Perhaps this is what gay retirement looked like? I took advantage of the quiet surroundings to catch up on some sleep, some writing and some sunbathing. I did a bit of swimming too and headed in to Cairns for a look around. There didn’t seem to be too much happening in Cairns midweek during rainy season. It was a relaxing couple of days without much to report. The highlight may have been flicking through the television channels and finding an episode of Murder, She Wrote that I hadn’t actually seen. I didn't think that such a thing even existed as I am quite the Angela Lansbury fan so it was a pleasant surprise. It was reassuring to see that there was still the “oh” moment for Jessica Fletcher. It always comes ten minutes before the end of the episode where someone says something seemingly inconsequential to her, she looks quizzical, says something cryptic then rushes off having worked out whodunit.

The morning of my final day I did my routine of morning coffee, a walk to the bakery followed by a swim and then breakfast. Once that had been completed I picked up the book I had been given as my secret Santa present back in Sydney and attempted to read a book for the first time in over seven months. I got a couple of pages in before some new arrivals distracted me. I could hear them before I could see them, their American accents carrying across the quiet pool area. I put my book down. The two of them soon appeared and were shown to their room. They both looked more my age and from the initial look at them I got they looked pleasing on the eye. The day was looking up. I assumed that they were a couple but after getting chatting to one of the two, RJ, later that afternoon I found out that they were friends and housemates. RJ was on a two-week holiday and had met up with Matt who was travelling for a couple of months between jobs. They only had one night in Cairns before Matt flew off to Japan and RJ headed for a few days in Melbourne before returning to the States. They didn’t want to miss exploring Cairns so headed off into town. Having already explored Cairns I declined the invitation to join them but said I would probably see them later as it wouldn’t take them long to explore.

Just a kiss and then

That evening Matt and RJ returned having seen all that Cairns had to offer. RJ went to the room for a sleep, Matt and I headed to bar, got a couple of beers and found a spot to sit by the pool. We chatted about our respective travels and it was really nice to be able to ask someone else about their grand adventures and listen to them as they reeled off the long list of places that they had been to. Matt had been travelling for a couple of months mainly around Southeast Asia, a place that wasn’t on my itinerary. It is somewhere that I would like to visit but think it would be more of a holiday destination with friends for me. After a couple of beers and a lot of chatting we went for a late night swim. Despite the place being quiet and us both being a little tipsy we maintained some respectability and wore swimwear. We had a bit of a snog in the pool (he was a good kisser) but nothing more happened. It was nice to have a bit of a kiss, my first in a couple of months. Sometimes that is all that is needed to boost you up and make you feel good. I was definitely ready to start dating, or at least going out and kissing some boys, when I got home from my travels. After the pool we said goodnight to each other and as Matt walked off I realised he reminded me of someone but I couldn’t for the life of me think who. I went to bed thinking about who it was, falling asleep before an answer had come to me.

My time in Cairns had finally come to an end. I packed my suitcase while I had my morning coffee. It took me all of thirty seconds as I had barely removed anything from my suitcase. I checked out, settling my bill and asking the guy on the reception if he wouldn’t mind ordering me a taxi. The taxi arrived within a couple of minutes and I was soon on the way to the airport for my flight to Brisbane. On the way to the airport I thought about Matt who I guessed was probably boarding his flight already and it suddenly came to me who he reminded me of. I have no idea how it suddenly popped into my head but I realised that Matt resembled Teddy Ruxpin, a cartoon character from the 1980s. It worried me slightly that I potentially found a cartoon bear arousing. It was the short, stocky build, the furriness and the walk that did it. In an attempt to reassure myself that it wasn’t totally weird I posted an update that garnered a few comments from friends as to the cartoon characters they fancied. I was pleased to find it wasn’t just me. Greg, Gay Number 1 also admitted to a Teddy Ruxpin crush while other friends openly admitted theirs. I boarded my plane for Brisbane safe in the knowledge that I was not a freak, or at least if I was a freak I wasn’t alone amongst my friends.

“Never shall we meet again, just a kiss and then”
Lyrics from One More Kiss from the musical Follies

On the ocean floor

noreply@blogger.com (Chris) — Wed, 09 May 2012 15:09:00 +0000

Just look at the world around you, right here on the ocean floor

Just look at the world around you

Blue sky and blue water

I was awake very early the next morning. I had not slept well the night before mainly due to several espresso martinis consumed the previous evening. I think it was more the coffee than the alcohol that kept me awake. They certainly managed to do what they were invented for. The story goes that Kate Moss went to a bar and asked the bartender, a guy by the name of Dick, to make something that would “wake me up and then f**k me up” and so the espresso martini was born. I started my day with a coffee (no vodka this time) despite the fact that I probably didn’t need any more caffeine. Jason was already up and heading to work around the same time I needed to leave so he said he would give me a lift to the wharf. From there I would get the boat for my second trip of my Port Douglas stay, snorkelling on the Great Barrier Reef.

Having been dropped off I made my way to the ticket office and collected my ticket. Mates rates arranged by Michael meant that I got the trip for half price, a definite advantage of staying with locals especially in a small town. Once on board the boat I found myself a seat, leaving my bag on it while I went to get a drink and some breakfast. We would be sailing out to the first reef, a journey of an hour or so. Over the day we would get to snorkel at three different reefs. With the sun streaming in through the window and the calm flat sea it was a very smooth journey and I had a bit of a snooze on the way out. A member of staff who needed me to fill out a form woke me up. I filled in the form without really reading it, assuming it was so I couldn’t sue them if they left me behind in the water. He asked if I wanted to try scuba diving and I declined as I am not the most proficient swimmer. I wasn’t sure if being entirely under the water would freak me out and ruin the whole experience.

Impossible to look good in a stinger suit

After the safety briefing I made my way to the back of the boat to get into my ever so sexy stinger suit and then be fitted for some flippers (I ended up having to get extra large ones), a snorkel and a mask. I caught a reflection of myself in the window on the boat – full lycra suit waddling along in massive flippers. It was not a pretty sight. Thankfully I was a little more graceful once I was in the water. The water was crystal clear and the fish and sea creatures I could see made me think I was in the Finding Nemo cartoon. It was so stunning that I regularly found I had been holding my breath, not wanting to scare off the fish. It took me a while to remember to breath as well as swim. It was another point on my trip when I wished that I had someone there with me to appreciate the beauty of the place. I swam until the horn on the boat went, swimming back and climbing on board with as much grace as I could muster in the flippers. I found a spot on one of the benches to sit while I got out of my flippers and stinger suit. As I sat back up I raised my head to see a rather large woman right in front of me, in the midst of getting out of her stinger suit, revealing her swimming costume. I was treated to a close up view of her thighbrows.

Right here on the ocean floor

Thankfully there was a bit of a gap between seeing the hairy inner thighs of the woman on the boat and lunch so my appetite had returned by the time lunch was served. I had lunch and then went for my second snorkelling session of the day, only slightly concerned that I was going swimming on a full stomach. At the second reef we got to see a shipwreck not far from where we had stopped although there was not much left to see. It had been some sort of wooden fishing boat and all that remained was the anchor and the engine block. At the third and final reef a couple of the guys from the boat company did guided tours in the water, stopping to point things out to the people following them. I stayed with the tour for a while but it was a little crowded so I headed off on my own. Once I was back on board after the final swim I dried off and changed back into my shorts and t-shirt and slept all the way back to Port Douglas. I can’t recommend the trip highly enough if you visit Port Douglas or Cairns. Even if you are not a great swimmer you can see some amazing stuff on the reef not far from the boat.

It was Jason’s birthday so on the way back from the reef trip I called in at the bottle shop to get a couple of bottles of wine for the party he was throwing and a bottle of bubbly as a birthday present. I met him at work where he was getting his hair done for the occasion. Once he was finished we headed back to his where I showered and changed while Jason and Michael set everything up for the party. Drinks, nibbles and Singstar on the Playstation. I figured we were in for a long and potentially drunken night. The other guests starting arriving and I was introduced to a lot of people in a short space of time. I apologised in advance for forgetting names, knowing full well that I wouldn’t be able to remember them all. Everyone was very friendly and welcoming. Nobody seemed fazed by my explanation of how I knew Jason and Michael although hearing myself explain it to them I knew it must sound very strange. Despite having only just met them I felt part of the group and shared a few tales with them that hadn’t quite made it into the blog (I have to save some juicy details for the 80 Gays book….).

Before long the party was in full swing. I have a vague recollection of trying on some platform wedges belonging to one of the girls at the party and doing a bit of a runway walk through the lounge. It was the first time I had been in heels since West Virginia when I had spent the weekend with Robby and his friends and Betty had brought his heels to do a spot of drag for us. I don’t know how women walk in those things or why they subject themselves to it. My calves hurt after less than 30 seconds in them. I came to the conclusion that the heels thing would be the downfall of any potential career as a drag queen along with not being able to sing/mime or dance particularly well, having thighs like tree trunks and being crap at putting on make up – the only time I tired to put eyeliner on I ended up looking like a panda. I am however capable of being a proper bitch but I don’t think that makes up for it. As the night wore people drifted off home leaving the hard-core drinkers sat out on the patio. Around 1am someone cracked open a bottle of Jägermeister and shots were passed around. I am not that keen on the stuff but joined in, to be polite. I headed to bed around 3am, leaving about a half dozen people still up partying.

I surfaced fairly late the next morning, although it was still morning (just). I got up in search of a large glass of water and some coffee. Jason was already up and had cleaned up from the night before. I am not sure where he got his energy from but he was in a very cheery mood. I needed some caffeine before I could be quite so cheery. Michael surfaced just after midday and cooked a late brunch for us. We were joined by Troy who had not made it home after the party but instead had slept in the caravan on Jason’s drive that belonged to their parents. Along with some great eggs benny Michael also cooked some kangaroo steak as I had not had any in Australia so far. I’d never really watched Skippy as a child so I had no qualms about eating it and it was very tasty. The afternoon was spent in typical post party style – laid out on the sofas while we watched a few films. I was introduced to some more Australian classics, Welcome to Woop Woop and Red Dog neither of which I had heard of before. After a lazy afternoon, some dinner and another film I turned in for an early night.

“Just look at the world around you, right here on the ocean floor”
Lyrics from Under the Sea from the musical The Little Mermaid