There are three drunk Americans on this bus … in Cairns

As I may have mentioned in a previous post, there was a serious outbreak of swine flu in Australia a few months back. As I prepped for my return to the States, it was decided that I should plan to stay away from the kids for my first week back in Oz. In case I was carrying pig sickness.

When the time came, it seemed like this was unnecessary and I could go straight back to work after 4 weeks off. Buuut, I already had a ticket to the Great Barrier Reef. Oh well.

Thanks to a delayed flight to LA from Detroit … and an even longer delay in LA to Sydney … I wasn’t even in Australia for 24 hours before getting on an early ass plane to Cairns. I met Schrama and Ufer in the airport around 5:30am or some shit. By 10am we were in Cairns, ready for trouble.

We checked into the hostel, got our keys and went to the room. And were met by a terrible drunk boy stench and some near-dead kids in a couple of dorm beds.

Three hours later, we returned to find them in the same exact state. As we quietly went about unpacking, I discovered a condom wrapper in my “clean” bed, wrapped in my “new” yet crumpled sheets.

No discussion necessary. In a blink of an eye we packed again, and were quickly moved into a girls only dorm on the other side of the building.

Ahh. Much better.

Our roommate was still weird, and woke up really early, and insisted on turning the fan off in the middle of the night and closing the door so I woke up sweating and annoyed. But at least she didn’t smell bad or have sex in my bed. That I know of.

I don’t think she thought much of us either. She told Schrama on our first day that she was staying a while. Then quietly slipped off at the crack of dawn on our second night.

Whatevs. We basically had the place to ourselves the rest of the time.

During our first day in we booked a couple of great tours. One was the obligatory snorkeling and diving on the reef. The second was a totally random tablelands trip that the girls had heard of in Sydney.

On day 2 we woke early in anticipation of our waterfall adventure. After watching many well-maintained tour buses drive by our place, we were a little worried we’d been left behind.

A few minutes later a raggedy-old hippie looking minivan pulls up, and out hops our crazy dreadlock-and-Thai-fisherman-pants-sporting Kiwi tour guide.

In case you don’t know, Kiwi means from New Zealand.

“Those are some nice teeth,” he says to Amanda. “Where you guys from?”

“Umm, thanks. The States.”

“How you guys feeling this morning?”

“We’re great, but the one with the teeth was out late last night. With an Aussie. She’s struggling.”

“Watch out everyone. We’ve got Americans.”

And that’s how the day started. And Team America was born.

We quickly made friends with our Kiwi guide. He was married the week before, to a Welsh girl who gave him a threesome for their 3-week dating anniversary. That’s when he knew she was the one.

He had everyone do a roll call as we drove to the tablelands, so we could get to know each other. Key points included country of origin, relationship status and whether you fold or scrunch your toilet paper.

I’m gonna propose that as an addition to the Facebook basic info page.

I said “depends on the job.” For the record.

We went to three sites throughout the day, for swimming/hiking/generally getting into trouble. At the first stop we had breakfast and the Kiwi taught me how to squeeze the butts off of green ants and eat them.

Tastes like lemon.

After dominating the natural waterslide and busting up both of my knees on boulders, we went to lunch. Seeing as we were so entertaining sober, our guide decided to buy us tequila shots to see what other stupid shit we would say.

I was instantly drunk. So I ordered soco and lime shots all around. And a beer.

And then I was wasted. “Whatever we do guys, do NOT let me swim.”

You guys are terrible friends.

As we boarded the bus again, our guide informed us of our next stop. “Oh, and you guys, there are 3 drunk Americans on this bus. I’m not gonna name names …”

As we pulled out, the super nice bar lady comes running out the door holding a purse. “It’s gotta belong to someone on Team America,” replies the Kiwi.

“LISA!”

“Aw, shit guys. Thanks. Seriously, I’m not allowed to swim”

Twenty minutes later I was swimming again, this time in the COLDEST effing water ever, into a fairly strong waterfall current.

I wasn’t going to go in, but, you know. It’s easy to convince me.

Sydney and I decided to swim for it. Her name wasn’t Sydney, but I bet you can guess where she was from.

Schrama went in, and Caitlin was forced in. As you’ll see in the video below. I drunkenly escaped, but went back in later.

You notice in this little clip that there’s a creepy old dude taking pictures. Before we got in the water, he tried to get us girls to pose for a bikini picture. He even offered some monies. We politely declined.

Apparently, that didn’t stop him.

No one noticed this happening at the time. It was only later, on the bus, that the evidence was discovered.

After swimming we went to the cheese and chocolate factory, where Caitlin and I drunkenly gorged ourselves on cheese and crackers. And felt immediately ill.

Last stop was a gorgeous lake that I didn’t catch on film. It was quiet, and warm, and I peed in it.

After a late drive back, we grabbed some dinner, and Schrama cashed early. Caitlin and I went out to meet some friends of hers from Sydney.

These guys had hit on the girls on a ferry in Sydney, and I hear that the whole day was a blast. Caitlin and her dude ended up having a good time, but Schrama’s man turned out to be crazy. I wasn’t sure I believed her story, and I was willing to give homeboy a second chance.

I gave it the old college try, for Caitlin’s sake. I couldn’t let her show up at the bar alone.

5 minutes in, and he was going on and on and on about how Schrama had broken his heart … after knowing her for 15 hours. 10 minutes after that, he was yelling at me – literally – for liking tequila.

I smiled knowingly at Cait, said my goodbyes, and walked home.

And that was our first full day in Cairns.

I’ll think I’ll make this a 2-parter. Or maybe 3. I think that would be fitting …

Lisa’s triumphant return. For reals this time.

Yup yup, she’s doing it again. Sadly, a month earlier than planned.

Due to unexpected (and unethical) increases in airfare during the month of December, I will be returning to the States in November. November 18, to be specific.

This time will be “for good.” Or, until I get restless again.

Want to see more of me? Find me a job and an apartment, and I’m there.

Seriously. Anywhere. Gimme.

This will also mean that Expat Escapades will have to retire. I’m considering throwing a retirement party.

People bring presents to retirement parties, right?

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Home to the world’s most memorable cab drivers.

After the successful bus rundown we boarded a night train to KL. Despite a few mishaps, this proved to be the most comfortable mode of transportation in SE Asia. Besides flying.

Following a restless night of yelling at people to close the goddamn door because they were too dumb to push the freakin’ automatic close button, I finally managed to get some shut eye. Probably around 3am.

At 4:30 we awoke to pounding on the windows and yelling in our ears.

Time to get off the train.

In the mad dash we managed to loose the stupid bag thing I had strapped to the outside of my pack. Key items included my running shoes and the underwater camera from Phi Phi.

Sadpants.

Once into town we went on a crazy search for accommodation. Things were quite pricey here, in comparison to Thailand.

After we settled in and took a nap, we started a 3 day stint in the city.

It was raining a lot, putting a damper on the trip.

Pun.

We took a stroll around Chinatown, which looked like every other Chinatown I've ever seen anywhere else in the world.

Adam tricked me into getting under a huge gutter stream with an umbrella. And then made me think he was taking a picture and not a video.

Ass.

As a result of the rain, we ate a lot. Because the cheapest (and best) food was in the tents, which also happened to be the best place to hang out in a rainstorm.

I think we had 6 meals one day. And waaaaay too much Indian food the whole time we were there.

We also got a bit daring on day one and got fish pedicures. They have them in the States too, but I’ve never seen them.

Basically, you stick your feet in a big fish tank, and the fish eat the dead skin off.

Yup, it’s as gross and uncomfortable as it sounds.

Not painful. Just ticklish and weird and wrong. But fun. I wouldn’t make it a habit, but they sure did get the job done.

Besides rain and Indian food, this city had a pretty great bird park. The world’s largest covered bird park, or something. I don’t remember what it is officially.

Unofficially, this city has the world’s most memorable cab drivers.

They had them all. Politicos spewing on about Hindu/Muslim racism, uber helpful guides, and the asshole who tried to make us think he was doing us a favor by driving us around. Like it wasn’t his job and we weren’t paying him.

But the BEST was the karaoke guy.

He had karaoke. In the car. Screen (with lyrics) was located on the inside of his passenger sun-visor-flap-thing. Microphone was plugged into the dash.

He expertly navigated traffic and carried a karaoke turn without skipping a beat.

As a pop culture blogger would say – AMAZEBALLS.

Even if he DID take us to the wrong museum. It was worth it.

We hit up the bird park, like I said. It rained, per usual. But I had fun, chased some birds, and fed a few. They scared me.

The icon of KL is (are?) the Petronas Towers, aka Petronas gasoline. Or petrol. You know.

They are the world’s largest twin towers. You can go to a little deck 30ish floors up and see a great view of the city. But you can’t go to the top, which is lame.

There’s a great little aquarium underneath though. Which is cool.

We did lots of animal things in this city, apparently.

I feel like this entry isn’t about the words. The videos are the true highlight.

So sorry if my verbal skills are impaired by the wine I've been sipping.

All in all, KL was a really, beautiful modern city with too much curry and a real Hindu/Muslim battle. Wish we had more time.

After a couple of nights we boarded ANOTHER night train – this time to Singapore. Where they speak English and lash people.

But BEFORE we got on the train to Malaysia …

I almost forgot about this part. Dammit.

So, in order to get on the train to Malaysia, one must travel very far south into the not-so-stable border states of Thailand.

I snagged a little bus van thing, packed to the brim, for the uncomfortable ride down from Krabi. We had ordered train tickets online, so we asked to be dropped right out front of the train station.

They literally drop us on the side of the road, and we hop out. Van drives away.

As I struggle to find the tickets to check the train time, I realize that they are in my wallet. In my purse. Which is NOT on my shoulder.

I had stuffed it into a shelf in front of me on the van. And failed to retrieve it upon exiting the vehicle.

EFLJH*&!@)*MKJFO(*&$@)(U#@*&*& T!!!!

This could possibly be the WORST place and time to loose a passport. And all of your money. And other forms of identification.

I look up at Adam, scream about my purse and start running down the dirt road. He yells at me to drop my backpack. I dramatically chuck it down and get a move on.

I’ve never ever put so much effort into a sprint in my whole life. I was in the middle of the road, dodging tuk-tuks, motorbikes and cabs. Drivers honked, cheered me on and stared.

I caught up to the van as it got stuck in the turn lane. Just as it entered the intersection, I pitched my water bottle into the back window.

The driver just slowed a second and kept driving. But it was enough for me to catch up and start POUNDING on all of the windows.

Everyone still in the van looks on, terrified, as I slide open the door, grab my purse, and walk away. Without saying a word.

Observing tuk-tuk drivers gave me the thumbs up on my walk back to the corner.

And THEN we had lunch and got on a night train. To Kuala Lumpur.

For those of you who don’t get it…

At this point, I’m writing 2 kinds of entries. The ones about Australia (recent) or the ones about Asia (not so recent). Since I got backed up during the backpacking, I’m having to retrace my steps.

Sorry for the confusion.

Another boyfriend ...

Here's another video of a typical day on the "job."

Koh Phi Phi – You know, where they filmed “The Beach.” Duh.

After our near-robbery in Phuket, we snagged an early tour ferry to Phi Phi. It looked like we’d be fighting for accommodation, since it looked like 1000ish people were getting off our boat alone.

As they starting labeling everyone with huge colored stickers, indicating the snorkeling time slots, we realized that almost everyone on board was part of a TERRIBLE day trip. Lucky us, we were the first stop off.

We were greeted on the island by an unbelievably calm, helpful travel agent who helped us find a place to stay and someone to carry our luggage. Since, you know, there are NO vehicles allowed on the island.

After full days and nights of honking traffic in Hanoi, it was a welcome change. The weather was a little weird, and hot, but still a complete paradise. We meant to stay for a day or two … which turned into 5 or 6. Oh well.

The schedule basically went like this:
12pm – wake up
12:45pm – get out of bed
1:30pm – get breakfast
2pm – dodge rain
3pm – lay on beach
4pm – get lunch
5pm – get snack
6pm – read
8pm – get dinner
8:30pm – get a bucket of liquor
9pm – go to fire show
12am – get drunken food
2am – stumble home, avoiding huge crabs, dogs and drunk people trying to convince you that’s it’s a great morning to get a tattoo.

After a few weeks of intense sightseeing and moving around, this place was just RELAXING and beautiful. I was in love.

I mean, we did do things. We went on a snorkeling trip, and saw the famous Maya Bay (made famous by Leonardo DiCaprio) and other great reef sights. We had some awesome coverage of this portion, but we lost the underwater camera on a train in Malaysia.

The fire shows, and buckets of liquor, were a blast. And, yes, I mean buckets. Like, for making sand castles.

You order a sand pail, filled with a pint of liquor and mixer of your choice. It’s buy one get one free. And one is enough to kill a horse.

We made the mistake of ordering a second round the first night. A centimeter in we were rolling on the beach and don’t remember the walk home.

Fire shows also included drunken fire jump rope and watching people fall on their asses. See below.

The guy in the khaki shorts, at the end of the vid, is Adam. Sadly, I have no footage of him falling on his ass.

On the 3rd or 4th night there, we met up with Damonz, who had been a friend of Kim’s while she was in PP. He introduced us to a few friends, joined us for a bucket and gave us this great idea.

He suggested that we rent kayaks and take a trip around the island, stopping on the small beaches. Since the island is really just a huge limestone cliff with a few small beaches on the far edges, it costs a lot to hire a fishing boat to take you around. This way, we’d save money and see more.

In theory.

Either we went off the wrong end or we’re just stupid. Probably both. In any case, as we headed out around 2pm, neither of us thought to look at a map first. Or a weather forecast.

After making it out of the bay, we suddenly felt the waves get much stronger and the clouds look much darker. Ah, well, a little rain never hurt anyone.

Waves get even stronger and we move further out into the wide, wide ocean. Sky turns black. Fisherman in boat points at the clouds and us. Laughs wildly.

Once the storm actually got started, we hit panic mode. Started packing up our stuff, paddling like crazy and looking for SOMEWHERE to beach this thing.

Apparently, all of the beaches are on the OTHER side of the island.

The boat was filling up with waves, and I had honestly stopped paddling. We were going nowhere, even with both of us working for our lives.

Mind you, there are tons of boats flying around us and motors turning up more and more waves, making everything THAT much easier.

Out of nowhere, the nicest man alive pulls up next to us in a fisherman boat he has clearly chartered for himself and his family. In a gorgeous South African accent, he asks us if we need help and offers to put us – and our kayak – on board the boat to get us to shore again.

Even in this situation, my pride almost gets the best of me. A quick look at Adam and we silently concede to our stupidity.

We awkwardly apologize, laugh and roll our eyes at each other as we make it back to the beach. Even with a motor and a lifetime of experience on the island, the driver still seems to have a hard time getting us back in.

It becomes very clear that, without this dude, we would have been toast.

Apologies continue, and we try to figure out how much a life-saving rescue is worth in baht. We hand it to the driver, apologize again, and drag the damn kayak back to the hut where we rented it.

Lesson learned.

On some other night, we saw this huge crab on our walk back up. Evil children that we are, we tried to convince the neighborhood dog to battle with it. He lost, but only got a small scratch on the nose.

Events all blur together for me during this portion of the trip. 6 pints of SangSom will do that to a girl.

After the islands, I was meant to head back up north to see the girls. Buuut, somewhere along the line, I was convinced to head south to Malaysia and Singapore instead. Sorry Marianne.

And as simply as that, I was crossing another border on a night train headed to Kuala Lumpur.