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Cheers Tara and Shane
Location: Melbourne, Australia
Staying with Muris in Melbourne for a couple of days. Muris is 62, single and a refugee from Bosnia. It is like hearing the SBS news first hand. It's horrible and we have only heard a fraction of what he has been through. Muris claims his suffering has been beyond what you can imagine but does not even compare to what his parents lived through. In WW2 his mother lost babies to starvation, her first husband killed in action. His father, a carpenter was so poor he had no clothes, only rags and his shoes were scraps of timber with canvas straps he made himself. Muris' own stories of horror made us ashamed to be human. Out the front of his house the paramilitary killed his neighbours and used their heads like footballs for a game of soccer. For eighteen months he lived in terror waiting for the same to happen to him and his family. Somehow he escaped. He now lives in Melbourne and is trying to rebuild his life. His place is a typical bachelor pad, in his fridge that rattles and wobbles is a carton of milk, an open can of baked beans and a mysterious sticky brown ring. His cupboards are virtually empty, dishes are washed and left stacked on the draining board, the toilet smells of urine and he loves it that way! Ladies, what a catch! Over breakfast he recalled some happier memories and regailed us with stories of mischief and mayhem, knock shops and girls, lots of girls!
As a young fella in 1979 with a couple of ratbag cheeky mates, Muris did a tour through France. On the bus was an old couple, the wife a real nag, the poor bloke under the thumb. One hot day, hubby had a dodgy chicken sanger for lunch that had been sweating and percolating in the bus and was on the turn. Not long after, with eyes like dinner plates the old man cries stop the bus With the strength and speed of a Queensland backrower he shot out the door and buried his arse in a corn field. After loosing his lunch and fifteen litres of shit a rather frailer and whiter man greeted the bus on his return. The old bloke was so crook that the tour couldn't continue for about two hours.
Later that night, Muris and his posse hit the red light district in Paris and tore it up. By all accounts Muris was a competent and accomplished lover who managed to break a few hearts (and possibly a few pelvises) that night.
The following morning, back with the tour group, Muris and his mates were thumbing through all the calling cards they had collected from the girls the night before and comparing notes. The cards had photos of the girls, phone numbers and a brief but delightful summary of their special talents. The old timer, still looking rough, was tentatively nibbling a croissant for breakfast in an effort to regain some of the strength that had run down his leg the day before... Muris, egged on by his mates slipped a couple of the girls cards into the old boys jacket pocket when he wasn't looking. Funny stuff. Even funnier later that afternoon when the old guy, sporting a welt on his cheek matching the buckle on his wifes handbag, came pleading for the gang to explain to his wife that he's only been spray painting his jocks brown and not out painting the town red!
Location: Melbourne, Australia
Simon is a big unit, at 6"3 he has the body of a Greek God (Hypnos: God of sleep) and the head of a walrus. And typical of a Greek God he also has a small pecker.
Despite having the body of a Greek God, Simon has the bladder of an 85 year old Chinaman and he will piss anywhere. We fondly remember a party at our house where Simon took a sly one in the garden, only it was the herb garden. As Tara eloquently advised him: "you dirty bastard thats the basil for the bruschetta" he spun around fumbling to put his dick away, (it may have been easier if he had put down either his drink or his smoke). He artfully sprayed the shoes of everyone in his vicinity mumbling an apology about trying to stop mid stream..
On another occasion after happy hour at the Sargents Mess Simon passed out at home in bed. Maree (beautiful wife) woke a few hours later to the relaxing sound of next door neighbours water fountain trickling, only it was Simon lying on his back beside her, sound asleep, pissing on his own chest. That was a good one! You would have thought that sex was out of the question for a while but when Maree suggested that they change positions, Simon quickly agreed. She said: "you do the dishes and I'll sit in front of the TV and fart". Simon once farted so wet that it sounded like he said CANIFILLYOURHOTWATERBOTTLE. Luckily for everyone the only causality was his jocks and pride.
Well that's enough about Simon and his bad habits, so let's now relive his 40th birthday party held in Melbourne recently. Simon supplied mobs of piss and food for about 35 of his closest friends, mostly Army who in true Army style drank as fast as possible before the tap was turned off. A bloody hoot of a night with lots of reminiscing and story telling. Although I wasn't invited to give a speech (which was probably smart of Simon), I'm doing so now;
He's a great bloke who as an adult has pissed the bed more times than a two year old and cried at least five times. It takes real skill to fall upstairs, choke on air, foul yourself more than once and trip over completely nothing. Simon you have that skill.
Your neither a half empty glass or a half full glass type of guy, you just drink whatever is in the glass. Thanks for the great night and we all love you. Happy birthday and smile while you have teeth.
Location: Adelaide and Halls Gap, Australia
To avoid the February Adelaide heat wave we drove into the fly blown heat of a Victorian January. What dickheads!! I think its hotter in Victoria. One day its 42 degrees the next 19. Apparently it was the hotest and coldest days in Victoria ever recorded that was only a day apart. So at the Grampians in Halls Gap by the pool after a particularly grueling trek I will now try to recount our Christmas in Aldinga Beach.
This year we had some guests namely Big Pete and Dee (real name is Deanne but is only called that if she's in trouble), Rob and Charlie (real name Charlotte and is never never called by her French name, but is called Carlotta when in South America). We all had a big fat Xmas lunch followed by round after round of cocktails. My favourite was the pina colada slushie style. After what may have been my third cocktail (whose counting its Chrismas) we played a round of 80's music trivia, which conviently came in a box set with DVD. Thanks Santa (AKA Rob and Charlie) for giving it to Pete. Although Rob and Charlie won every game suprisingly Pete knew a lot of the obscure questions and especially knew a lot about the iconic gay group Bronski Beat.
Later in the week Rob and I went mountain biking in the forest. To be fair Rob went mountain biking and I did a lot of mountain walking, pushing my bike for the last few stages. It was great fun but after Xmas and a couple of years without any physical exersise I was stuffed. Not forgetting my extremely sore 'fact or gouch' (the bit between your but hole and ball bag) which after the ride had me walking like a cowboy for about three days.
Just in case anyones interested santa gave me a soap with a hole in it. Printed in bold blue was 'Willy Washer, One Size Fits All'. Bloody brilliant pressie Santa but it might take a few months of washing before the hole is large enough!
So back to the Halls Gap swimming pool where kids are running around like they were on fire, crying, pulling each others hair. Ten minutes of watching this and then thinking out loud that having brats like that I would want to glue the eye of my penis shut.
But before the pool we walked from Halls Gap up to the Pinnacles and back, a hot four hour walk. But we were granted with amazing views of the valley and the Pinnacles rock formations. Further on from the Pinnacles Tara remembered a challenge called 'the nerve test'. If youre game you can walk the fifteen metre rock arch way where some parts are a mere twenty centimetres wide while not looking down to a solid rock foundation some ten metres below.
Well of coures I had to have a go! I got as far as where it got skinny and thats where I failed the nerve test. Like a dog with worms and a relieving hard surface I did get to the end but I slid on my backside most of the way.
We did some great rock climbing at Mt Arapalies. With super grippy sandstone to hold I shimmied easily up ten metres. No shoes and like a man with diarrhea chancing a fart I showed no fear, well not until I had to come down. I was stuck fast like BO to a Mexican bus driver. I did eventually make it down with encouraging words from Tara: Put your right foot down about six feet and left about four, said a laughing Tara. No sorry your left foot, hang on, no your right. Funny stuff for Tara but we did get some good photos to prove it. If you look closely you will see me using my navel like a suction cap. Now at the bottom with a deflated ego I had the confidience of a man whose fly was stuck open.
Weve entered into a new phase of our travels, I like to call it the OPP Shop period. Town by town we go in search of a Vinnies or Salvos or even local country ones run by the town Vicar which seem to have rare exotic nick nacks. In Stawell Western Victora an old musty Thrift Shop where the afternoon sun lights dust particles floating in the air. Something about it made me feel like I was walking into a giant nostril.
Location: Victora, Australia
About an hour south we are on the Mornington peninsular. Getting a bit historical and not to be confused with hysterical (something Tara does when theres a mosquito inside the car at night), Port Nepean at the very pointy end of the Mornington Peninsular has the honour of firing the very first shots in anger for both WW1 and WW2 for the British Empire. Bet you didn't know that? Sitting back in Apex Park watching some female endurance walking challenge while drinking our 7 Eleven coffee. From what we can gather this park is the halfway point and clearly a toilet break by the massive queue lining up outside the female dunnies. Some ol girl who can't wait has taken the initiatve and bolted for the gents. Now the line has split and by the look of some of these chicks and the size of their thighs some could stand to piss. Standing to piss in my active wear .
Philips Island, what a bloody windy spot. It's a nice spot with plenty to see. My favorite moment was when a couple of chinese tourists (or possibily local) was savagely attacked by at least 200 bastard seagulls. The gulls were so vicious that the tourists bolted for cover unloading handfulls of chips as they ran hoping to divert the flock away from the battered flake. If you've ever seen the Alfred Hitchcock movie The Birds then youv'e seen what we seen but the only difference is that the Philip Island birds ended up with eight dollars worth of chips with chicken salt.
Moving on to Wilson's Promontory and yet another spectacular coast line. This Victorian coast is impressing the shit out of me and I'm quietly surprised. Only down side is the wind which hasn't stopped now for a week. Bloody annoying, but by cripes the scenery is first rate. We had plans to camp at the Prom National Park but the fifty eight dollar rate had us parked up outside the Park gates and scooting in during the day to see the sights. A hefty climb to MT Oberon with worth it views was the highlight.
One freezing night beside a clear stream camping at Falls Creek and then to Wodonga to catch up with friends. Staying with Sandy a gorgeous singer who's sweet smooth voice is currently shot and out of action. On the plus she now has a larger vocal range because now she sounds like Joe Cocker who just gargled a hand full of rock salt. She's such a great singer that she doesnt sing in the shower, she performs. Shes so good that she does the main lyrics, back-up vocals and also sings the guitar part. Rest, tongue exercises and gargling coconut oil is apparently the remedy but unfortinuatly for Sandies voice she's unable to stop talking so it looks like she wont get a singing gig until 2020.
Morris Winery at Rutherglen where again we talked the talk. Things like yeild and tonnage, balance pruning and black rot (and no im not talking about whats left in my jocks after a night on the rumbo's) were banded around like a couple of winemakers swapping notes. The difference this time however was they may have believed the verbal diarrhea spilling out of our mouths. Parting the cellar door the manager gifted us a bottle of their best and gave us a personal tour of the cellar. Unfortunately for us there was no back tastings (which is another wanky wine term for tasting all the good old stuff). By this stage Tara was three parts pissed from the more than generous tastings and we needed to leave before she said something daft. Also luckily for us they didn't poke their heads out into the car park and see our battered bongo van. Both would have given the game away.
Merry Christmas to those who believe in it and if you don't then have a good day. So in parting I give you a couple of Chuck Norris jokes....Chuck Norris threw a grenade and killed 50 people, then it exploded, and Chuck Norris doesn't cheat death. He wins fair and square.
Location: Melbourne, Australia
In Melbourne where we spent six days walking the CBD visiting all the highlights. Probably our favourites were up the same dingy alley. These were the Shanghai Dumpling House and some trendy bar. The dumpling house where service is fast and impersonal.
You sit said the young chinese dude while disgarding a couple of well used menus on the greasy table. About thirty seconds later he returns with wha you wan?
We want a little more time to look at the menu thanks replys Tara. Another thirty seconds pass and he's at it again like a stuck recording.
Wha u wan?
Shit no pressure! Ill have the steamed fish with lemon grass.
What about the Sichuan poached fish fillets in hot chilli oil
No ha fis
Do you have rice?
Fried rice and vegetables and 20 steamed mushroom dumplings thanks China
Just as I returned from grabbing a couple of cups of tea from the help yourself urn by the front door, he's back with our food and slides the plates on the table salon style. Its was a quick dinner and we were both watered, fed and out the door within half and hour. But thats Chinese effeciency for you, very authentic restaurant, even down to the overflowing urinals which are situated 3 floors up and the bum burning diarrhea a day later. The cool bar was right next door and a long neck of Coopers Pale was waiting for us. With an old shipping container for the bar and old Chep pallets stacked willy nilly are the seating. It a great funky/grungy joint where all the hipster crowd gather and drink stubbies of Melbourne Bitter and smoke like its no tomorrow. A DJ mixes with a plastic cup of Belgian Ale while everyone tries to speak over the top of the music and smoke. What is it with every bugger with a durrie? I guess its as hard to give up smoking as it is to start flossing..
Tara's favouite band Mojo Juju was playing while we were in town so we popped along to have a look. As usual they put on a great show. Not since Herb Alpert and The Tijuana Brass's 1965 smash hit 'Spanish flea' has Tara been more excited. So much of a good show that if I was wearing jocks then I would have thrown them on the stage.
We are parked in upmarket St Kilda where we found free parking (rare in Melbourne) next to a dunny block and only a two minute walk to funky Ackland Street. Only down side is the dunnies are a mine field of needles, used condoms and DNA splatter. One particular morning we found all of the formentioned plus a pair of leggings and a bycicle helmet. Some wierd shit is going down at the St Kilda Gardens!! Its a safe bet that its a crack house and a poofters beat! Maybe also a bike shop, or a gay cyclist poofter junkie just needed a dump!!
Every morning we make a cup of tea and sit back while a poor little Indian cleaner wearing full HAZMAT gear enter the shitters, we just shake our heads knowing the disgrace he's about to encounter. Still, its better than most toilets we encountered in India. But even in cool Ackland Street we dodged a massive runny turd (not a dogs) outside an upmarket clothes shop. Ahh melbourne we loved our stay (except the big runny shit on the foot path) and will be back again real soon.