Wolf Creek…

 

Wolf Creek… Pinjarra, Australia

Pinjarra, Australia

So, I landed in Perth on the Friday morning. As we queued up at border patrol, every single episode of Border Patrol came flashing through my mind.

‘Do I have rice in my bag? No. Have I been anywhere near freshwater in the last 30 days? No. Do I have drugs inserted up my anus? Well, unless one of the girls snuck it up there whilst I was sleeping, I think it’s safe to say the answer is a resounding no.’

As it turns out, it was relatively easy. We were out within 5 minutes. Apart from getting dive bombed by a parrot (according to Laura), the journey to our hostel was a smooth journey. We arrived at Banjos backpacker hostel, dropped our bags and left to sort out our bank accounts.

So, we sat in the bank, all excited about our upcoming travels when the girls decided to create a backstory that would have the all the girls swooning and falling over at their feet. The army. Yes, they’ve decided that if someone asks them what they do back home, they’re going to reply with, “We were in the army. I don’t want to talk about it – it’s too painful.” and then turn the crocodile tears on. I think if you know me, you’d know that the thought of me being in the army is quite laughable, so we had to come up with a different backstory for me. “I think you should say you’re a glamour model/porn star back in London.” Sammy said as the bank teller called us to come and open our accounts. “That’s believable, look at my tits.” I told her as we approached the counter. “I’ve done a bit of it before, by the way.” I whispered. “WHAT?! YOU’VE DONE PORN BEFORE?!” Sammy shouted quite loudly in my face. You could hear a pin drop (well, I wouldn’t be able to, but..) as Ben the bank teller turned crimson red and tried to ignore what had just happened. “Modelling, I meant.. not ******* porn.” I hissed at Sammy. Looks like all my transactions will have to be done online from now on.

Within 15 minutes of leaving the bank, we had decided we weren’t too keen on Perth. It was too quiet and boring. But to be fair, it was only 9.30am – we had to give it a chance.

Later in that evening, we decided we would pay a visit to Perth deaf club which was only 5 minutes away. 2 ******* hours later, we found it. Don’t ask, I don’t want to talk about it, it’s too painful.

We met a lovely girl called Drisana who introduced us to the youngsters, explained a bit about the aboriginal deaf people, gave us tips on what we could do in Perth and reassured us that we wouldn’t get chlamydia from koala bears at Perth Zoo.

We said our goodbyes and made our way to The Court, which is meant to be one of the best gay bars/nightclubs in Perth, where we were rejected. In Perth, you HAVE to have ID with you all the time, regardless of how old you are. I even tried sticking my breasts out, but to no avail. I also showed him my GAY membership card hoping that that it would have some standing. Apparently not. Sorry Jeremy Joseph, it means nothing to them. So, we went back to the hostel to get a good nights sleep.

The next day, we decided we would make the most of Perth before leaving. The girls were eager to leave to go to Sydney when the weekend was over, but I wanted to wait until Rikki arrived and then we could make a decision together. So we waited. We decided to go to Fremantle, which is on the coast. It was a delightful day (‘ow very Eliza Dolittle do I sound?), we went to the pier, had some ciders, and took a stroll down the beach, We found a market, and knowing it was the AFL match between Fremantle and the Sydney Swans that afternoon, in my tipsy stupor, I purchased a Fremantle top, walked into a bar and chanted “FREOS! FREOS!” with the best of them. The girls supported the Sydney Swans. Traitors. Fremantle won. In your face.

We went back to the hostel to get ready for our big night out at The Court. We were all glammed up – single, and ready to mingle.

How was the night?

Well, imagine a place where all the inbreds, bogans, heifers and buck-toothed people were wearing your grandmother’s curtains from the 60s, and that’s exactly where I went. I’m not going to lie – I was VERY uncomfortable. I stood there, tapping my foot and downed my Vodkas like there was no tomorrow. I did this for a good 3 hours or so. Why we stayed there for so long, I have NO idea.

We got back to the hostel and the girls were adamant that there was money to be made in Sydney, we were haemorrhaging money like Bob after two plates of vindaloo on a night at the curry house.

So.. they booked their flights to Sydney. I decided I would stay behind wait for Rikki and look for farm work.

Rikki arrived the next day and told me he would be staying with an Irish couple called Liz and Dan, and that it was the All Irish Final and they would be going out that evening. That was settled. I would join him and go out the Irish lot – I always end up gravitating toward the Irish. So, I said my farewells to the girls and agreed to meet up with them in Sydney when I arrived.
Liz, Dan, Rikki and I went out. We had a great night – Dublin won. Up the Dubs!

The next day was spent relaxing and figuring out what we would do. We decided we would buy a car. So, we did. A Toyota Echo called Ellie. My very first car. I felt very maternal towards it (yes, I’m aware I’m very broody right now) and was looking forward to our road trip the next day to see our friend Loranc in Manjimup. We would try and look for farm-work.

ROAD TRIP DAY! We eagerly packed our things into Ellie, and set off on our first road trip.

One hour later. ******* lost. We spent 20 minutes trying to find the service station (which we found out later it didn’t exist anymore..) before Ellie had what I would describe as a heart attack. She threw a wobbly fit, spluttered and started singing Roy Orbison.

#As I travel down this road, it’s a heavy load, it’s a heavy load#

She had decided that enough was enough.

The road-trip was short lived and my relationship with Ellie was the shortest relationship I’ve ever had, apart from going out with Sebastian Cunliffe in year 7 and dumping him after an hour.

#R.I.P to the car you used to see. Her days are over, baby she’s over..#

Rikki and I couldn’t help but laugh. Hysterically. It could only happen to me. So.. we sat in the car for 4 hours, waiting to be rescued.. contemplating life, and watching the cows moo. Whilst I was getting ‘Wolf creek….’ messages from my friends, Rikki decided that fate had intervened and that Australia wasn’t for him – so he’s running off to Asia.

As for me? Well, that’s still a mystery.

I might make mistakes, but I will take them as learning experiences. I’m human, not perfect.

Until next time, folks.