I've been banished to travellers' hell.

G'Day faithful blog readers, I report to you today from g-g-g-gorgeous Airlie Beach. But this, I promise, is a much rewarded gift from the gods of vacation. Getting here has proved to be the most difficult and angering travel experience I have ever been unfortunate enough to come upon. Allow me to elaborate.

The whole schpeal started Tuesday night, I reckon. I had a final night out at Irish Murphy's with Rach and Justin, and was back, in bed, and mildly intoxicated by 11. No dramas. The next morning was an early one, and Erin was kind enough to help me with my baggage and get to the bus station, where I was to take the Gull bus to Tullemarine, grab a cab, drop off my heavier bags to be shipped, and jump back to the airport in time to board my flight to Proserpine Airport in the Whitsundays. Easy as, right? Wrong. I got on the Gull bus a-ok, and departed Geelong without much difficulty. Things started to go downhill when I arrived at Tullemarine. Now, let me paint a little picture for you. Here's me, 21 year old, arguably smaller-sized female, juggling one 38 kilo (I know the exact weight because of shipping) hockey bag, two of those annoying rolley suitcases, one bag stuffed with a blanket and pillow spilling over the top, and my trusty Flyers reload strapped to my back. Yeah, movement wasn't exactly something that came too easily to me. I struggled to hail a cab, but ended up being shooed an extra 5o-odd meters to actually get in the damn taxi, and was finally off to Jetta Express. Well, the two-minute cab ride I was promised turned into a ten minute excursion after the cabbie had no idea where we were going. When we were finally there, I hauled all of my belongings, which had become as annoying as inanimate objects can possibly be, into the Jetty place. Their "easy as" process ended up taking far longer than they or I anticipated, and after overpaying to try and enjoy myself on a post-semester abroad holiday, I had to wait an extra five minutes for the guy to drive me back to the airport.

Timecheck: 1o:15 a.m. Flight departs at 1o:3o.

Yeah, needless to say, that flight didn't happen. So, here I am, stranded at the Melbourne airport with a suitcase and two bags worth of living, with no option but to fly to the Whitsundays the next day at eight a.m. The start to the farewell tour was looking less than stellar. After an hour-long conversation with my Dad and a turkey sandwich, I was feeling a little bit better about things, and decided to go into Melbourne to find a hostel instead of waiting out the 20-odd hours in Tullemarine domestic's arrival section. I found what I thought was a reasonable hostel, and SkyBussed into Melbourne without much difficulty. Czeched into my hostel, the "hotel discovery" (sidenote: I have no idea what they were discovering, but I did not want any part in such and expedition. This place was by far the worst hostel I've come across thus far), and decided to make a day of it and head to St. Kilda to explore. I'd intended to do this ages ago, but the timing, weather, and company never seemed to come together. So, after befriending two Canadian guys who stopped me in the lobby by saying "Flyers?" (we had a spectacular twenty minute conversation discussing the ins and outs of the 2oo7-o8 lineup), I was on my way. Remembering it was 7-11 Day (the dates are "backwards" to most of you), I stopped in the Sev across the street from my hostel and wished the clerk a happy seven eleven day, and was rewarded with a free small slurpee. I proceeded to do this another four times throughout the day, and varying 7-11's in Melbourne. Whoever said nothing's free obviously wasn't around a seven eleven on November 7th or July 11th, respectively. I was into it.

So from there, I found my way onto a tram heading towards St. Kilda. The ride there was uneventful, although there was a kid on the tram that looked like he could've been the lovechild of Conan and Wilson. Like the free slurpee action, I was into it. St. Kilda ended up being a super cute little suburb, though, and I'm glad I got a chance to check it out. I popped in and out of a few stores, wandered by the beach and on various rooftops, and ended up having a delicious pasta dinner at a spaghetti bar. All in all, not a bad day. I was back in Melbourne by 8-ish, and went about seeking a place to watch House after finding that my idiot roach hostel didn't even have a television I could watch. I wandered in and out of bars around the block of the hotel discovery, and ended up sneaking into a neighboring hostel. To my dismay, although they had a television, it didn't have channel ten, and thus, did not have my weekly dose of House. In a last-ditch attempt, I went down the street and started asking people if they knew of a place that had a place that I could watch my beloved medical drama. One guy suggested I head to an Asian cafe about a block down, because they normally had a tv on. Praise the doc himself, they had a plasma showing this week's episode, and had the volume on. So, in true Housewatching form, I ordered a cup of tea and watched House in some random Asian cafe. I'm pretty sure that was the highlight of my day, as per usual. After that little excursion, I went back, did a bit of reading, and went to sleep, well aware of the fact that I had to be up at 6:1o the next day.

Well, in the true spirit of the trainwreck that has been this trip so far, I didn't wake up until 6:2o, and was forced to throw on the first ensemble in my suitcase (I later regretted this... greatly), quickly pack my belongings, and rush downstairs to check out and grab the cab that I had to take because the damn hostel failed me yet again in contacting SkyBus for my free pick-up. The taxi driver was a certifiable imbecile himself. He tried to talk me into letting him drive me all the way to the airport (no, sir, I already bought my return SkyBus ticket), then didn't have change when we finally got to the station. So, I ended up missing the SkyBus I had originally intended to take, because I was busy buying a bottle of water from 7-11 to make change for this idiot. I swear, if he would've said "You no have change?" one more time, I would've been forced to go gangsta on him. It was extreeeemely frustrating.

I caught the next SkyBus, though, and ended up almost missing my flight again, but luckily made it. I was seated first row, middle seat, which was interesting, but did not bode well for my intentions to sleep off the flight. We arrived in Brisbane at a still early hour, and I spent the majority of my layover wondering why time was an hour behind, paying to make a collect call, and drinking tea to try and soothe my nerves. My connecting flight also ended up being a thorn in my side, offering another delay. Apparently some all-powerful deity did not want me to get to the Whitsundays. The only good thing about the flight was that we were given free inflight television, where I was ecstatic to find FoxTel broadcasting a Thrashers/Red Wings game. Sweet, sweet, NHL action, at last!! This heightened mood did not last long, though... this I promise. See, when I finally got off the plane and was thoroughly engaged in being really, really lost, I hear my name butchered over the loudspeaker. "Maybe I won a prize or something," my optimistic side offers. Of course not. The Virgin Blue rep was very sorry to inform me that they had sent my bag to the Gold Coast, instead of Proserpine, and that it would be sent to my hostel by tomorrow. All I could do was laugh. So, I took my meager belongings and boarded the bus into town in a quite foul mood. I checked into Koalas, already sweating bullets in the tropical heat, and went into town to try and find some shorts and a t-shirt to change into. Being a tourist town, everything here is insanely expensive, so I overpayed for a pair of board shorts and an Airlie Beach t-shirt. I grabbed some dinner at a little cafe (quite tasty, actually), and went back to Koalas to change. I had every intention of going back out to check out the nightlife, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. So, I laid down in my new garments and fell asleep after about an hour of reading and another emotionally exhausting day.

Today has proved to be the first real positive of the trip. I woke up early, having fallen asleep before ten the night before, did a bit more reading and checked to make sure Virgin Blue hadn't dropped of my bag (of course not). My next task was finding a pair of flip flops, because my newly acquired Ugg Boots (don't hate) weren't exactly cutting it in the heat. Plus, I looked completely ridiculous wearing them with board shorts. What else is new, really. I ended up finding a pair in Jay Jay's, as well as a tank top to wear throughout the day, and changed in the store's dressing room. From there, I headed beachside, where I found a swanky little cafe that had an appetizing-sounding brekky. One mango smoothie, some fruit, yoghurt, and raisin toast later, I was was off to explore. I did a bit more reading and some beach wandering before reluctantly purchasing another towel and some sunscreen, allowing me a glorious afternoon by the lagoon. I've already put a decent amount of work on my tan... at this rate, I'm going to be borderline Aboriginal by the time I get back to the States. And now, I'm at the travel agent, where I confirmed my pirate cruise (!!!) for tomorrow. I'm super, super pumped about it. Well, this has been beyond lengthy, but I felt it necessary to update you all on the trials and tribulations of the farewell tour thus far. Don't be surprised if, next update, I tell you the boat sank. With my luck, I wouldn't put it past it. But the weather's far too gorgeous to remain inside, and your eyes are already straining to read the print, I can tell. So until next time...

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