Something has changed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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]