Australia this, Australia that...

I'm here. In Melbourne. Making it my home.

They're a nice bunch, the Aussies I mean. Although I'm not sure that they'd say the same for us. I somehow feel that they'd rather be fat than a pomme! This in fact, is a mis-heard quote that I mis-heard on TV advert....it didn't actually say this, but knowing how much they (the Aussies) hate us (the dirty Pommes) then it wouldn't have come as shock if this is what they actually said.

I know that I haven't blogged about my new home (amazing), job interviews (yes, I have 2!) etc... but this has been chipping away at me for some time now! All the food in the supermarket advertises itself as 100% Australian. 99% wouldn't even get a look in. The carrier bags...made from 100% Australian trash. The toilet roll- Australian. The spices-Australian. The nuts-Australian.

'Buy Australian. Keep your children in Jobs"

The beds, hand-made with the finest Australian woods. The mattress-Australian.

One advert says the word 'Australia' 6 times in about 45 seconds.

An Aussie wouldn't eat English fish and chips- we don't change our oil enough according to the annoying guy on the 7pm project.

But, the Australian TV is made up of English and American programs...apart from the AFL of course (you know, proper football, where they fight and play on a round pitch?!) Top Gear (UK), Dr Phil (USA), History of rock music (UK), Days of Our lives (USA).
Neighbours? 100% Australian mate!


Despite this, and possibly because of this, I love Melbourne and those 'sanga' eating Aussies!

I love how they say 'bastard' at 5pm. I love how they advertise a help line for impotence at 2.30pm. I love how they air an advert at 7.45pm that show 2 men playing the piano with their man-hood.

I love the word "crook", "R.A.N.G.A" and I love more than anything that they actually say...

"G'day mate!"

Yes, this cheese is called 'coon'. 

 

7th Febuary 2010

The view from our hotel room told us that today wouldn’t be the hottest on record. Dressed modestly, we headed in a taxi to the souks in Deira City. Hit with the smell of spices on opening the taxi door, we knew which souk we were at. I’d say that no more than 10 minutes into our first day in Dubai, Adam had been totally converted to Sheik Al Bin Newton, Arabian Prince and potential buyer of Sheffield United football club (had he also been give the money of a prince)…

It was too easy to get lost in the souks, every ally looking the same. Piled with 9ct diamonds, the goldest gold, textiles, spices and watches (both fake and genuine).

We escaped along the river, where the pirate-style boats docked and piles upon piles of who-knows-what filled every possible gap.

Crossing onto the other side of the river, the souks had started to shut down and so had we. Feeling exhausted, we retired to a courtyard hideaway where we hid from the Middle Eastern bustle of the markets and busy roads.

Winding down for the day, we knew we needed a power nap to get through the evening plans, arranged by Adam.

Ok, so the evening didn’t go quite to plan (we got totally lost, not sure where the restaurant even was and never found out) but ended up seeing an amazing view of New Dubai by night and stumbled onto Fashion Avenue where the manager of a flag-ship Chanel store gave Adam his business card in case he ever wanted to come back and work in Dubai. The mall was filled with shops selling the most ‘bling’ that you could imagine; yet the polite staff were extremely welcoming…we felt at home here!! Rolex, Armani, Gucci, D & G. What we didn’t realise at the time is that we had only touched on a tiny part of Dubai Mall.

We swiftly ate some, urm, interesting Chinese cuisine and tiredly made our way back to the hotel… in style! A blacked out Lexus… it was Dubai after all! Oh, and to end the night we popped open a bottle of Moet. (Should we admit that we sipped the champagne out of plastic cups whilst watching Benidorm Series One on DVD?! You can take Adam and Kate out of England, but you cant…)

Currently flying at 35,000 Feet.

First things first… we both safely survived The UAE and both have our hands still attached to our arms. Phew!

 

What isn’t there to say about Dubai, or even the drama at Manchester airport prior to the ‘big adventures’ official start? As many of you women out there will know, packing for a holiday or break is a nightmare. Packing for a whole year…. well, lets just say that I went a little bit overboard with what I decided to take…

Adam and I were more than happy with our 30kg weight allowance. However, I had an idea that I might have been ever so slightly over. But I did not expect to be £600 worth over. Nor did Adam. But I don’t think that Adam had realised that I would then proceed to layer my clothing in the middle of a very busy airport in order to avoid having to send home any clothing with my entourage (Grandma, Aunt, Mother, Father and Brother.) There was no chance that I was going to have to leave any of my 3 pairs of flip-flops behind. Sadly, I had to leave something. It was a tough choice. I selected the Collins Pocket French Dictionary, Lonely Planet guide to Fiji and a handy book on Soviet Politics (who wants their brain to go to mush really?!)

After the embarrassment of having to unload my travel library, it was back to the check-in desk for weighing in time. I stood sweating (due to the mount of clothes I was wearing) and Adam was, I presume, still a little embarrassed. But I was underweight! I then proceeded to load back into my case the necessities (sun cream and some shorts).

We boarded the B777-300 and flew with Emirates to Dubai.

On arriving at the space station commonly known as Dubai International Airport, we were promptly greeted by the worlds shiniest metals and Arabs dressed in pristine white robes. After picking up our chins from the floor, I pushed Kate into taking a tourist shot of me in (drum roll please)….. in the queue for the taxi!!

The taxi ride was short and sweet and we finally crawled into out beds at approximately 2am local time.

Not Gone Down Under Just Yet

So, here it is. I'm doing a blog.

I'm due to go 'Down Under' via Dubai on Saturday 6th February. I say due, because the law of the UAE seems so strict that I'm afraid that I will trip on one of the many strict laws and end up in a roach filled cell with some breast flashing, drug smuggling 'innocent' young British backpacker.

Damn 'Banged up Abroad'. Will I ever travel without fear again?

If they ask me to take a briefcase through customs, remember Kate...just say 'no'.

Here's to new adventures.....