I went on a holiday up north a week ago. Apparently this area is not only infested by crocodiles (you cant go swimming), but also Cane Toads which have poisonous skin.
So it sounded like it was going to be fun! I was going with bf and some of his family (mainly boys) so there wasn’t going to be any cocktails by the pool. We were going to get adventurous.
Lunch of the first day was interesting. Here we were with a couple of grandparents at the local RSL, eating and drinking. I was at one end of the table and the oldies were at the other. After finishing my conversation with a couple of the boys, I turned around to get back into the other conversation. It sounded like the oldies were talking about their new camping spot. They were saying they tended to the little garden they had around their caravan. I say “oh that sounds nice, how often do you go there? Like once a year?”
The gran says “no no, once a month, sometimes more”. I notice everyone’s looking at me horrified.. The subject gets changed quickly, we finish up lunch and head to the car. Bf’s dad breaks the silence “Wow, nudist colony!! Didn’t see that coming!”
So apparently I sounded overly keen to hear about a couple in their 70’s/80’s getting nude and doing gardening. Oh and it’s a colony so they hang out with other nudists.
Funny sidenote on that – I made mention of this as a funny facebook status update (“it’s only awkward if you make it awkward”) and my 83 year old nan ‘liked’ my post. Yeah, she’s on fb and is apparently loving oldies being nudists. Not going to think about that for any longer than I need to!
At this amphibian adventure park, we also found out we could meet a croc and get a photo. Yesssss!! I’m there.
It’s actually more like this:
Right before I was meant to hold my little croc, there was a wet sloppy noise and the handler got coated in shit. So much so that he noted “ugh, that’s definitely wet my phone..”. Also, as he went to hand me the thing, it was thrashing around in his hands. So I was both disgusted and freaked out.
Well the area I was told to put my left hand was absolutely, positively, the anus. I asked if I could move my hand up further but the request was denied. So there’s your old pal RG wrapping her hand over (and gripping tightly) a crocs butt. A crocs butt that had just taken a shit and not had any sort of clean up.
So yeah, handed the thing back after my photo (I’m not sure what was scarier – the croc or my jowls and hairy arms, you’re meant to make me look hot you stupid photographer!), and we know how it ends up; I had croc shit all over my hand. It wasn’t on my bucket list but I guess I’ll have to add it so I can tick it off. Uhhhh yay?
The next day we headed to the Great Barrier Reef for a day of snorkling. Bf’s dad told us it’d be flat and it’s a reef so the boat ride out would be nice. It wasn’t.
Normally I don’t get seasick but I’ve since discovered my trifecta of necessary requirements for a good ol chuck chunder;
1. Other people vomiting. Hearing a whole bunch of people vomiting, smelling the vomit and seeing someone holding a bag full of vomit is not cool.
2. Toilet water on my feet. So the waves knocked the boat around a fair bit and on one of these particular waves, the water got knocked out of the toilet, spilling on the floor and then my feet. Which also leads onto..
3. Toes. Not only were my toes covered in toilet water but I looked out of the window and someone on the second level had their feet hanging over the edge and they were wiggling their toes.
And my toe phobia really amped up that combination because before you know it, I was outside next to bf’s dad’s gf (who herself was holding backing vomit) projectile vomiting my pancake breakfast into the Great Barrier Reef.
Worst part? There was a gap in the solid railing wall where my feet were and I happened to get vomit on my toes. No kidding.
No exaggeration. There weren’t sexy girls in bikinis and tanned men playfully splashing the water, there was a shitload of wind, 90% of people wearing wetsuits and people either using pool noodles to help them float or wearing life jackets. There was even a group of people all holding on to a life ring with a ‘guide’ pulling them.
I went out with bf and with the waves and current, he lasted like 15 mins then gave up and went back to the boat. As there were 6 of us, we’d decided to have partners but mine just left me! As I was waiting for his 2 brothers to come hang with me, I realised I was just hanging out in the deep water between the boat and the shallower reef. It took them maybe 10 mins to get to me, and in the meanwhile I was just treading water and floating around. Enter phobia #2 – sharks.
Now I dont know about you guys, but the sound of water and being shit scared are both ways to make me need to piss. I couldn’t remember if pee attracts sharks but I held that baby tight until the boys got out to me.
I sussed it out. “Does pee attract sharks?” “Dunno”. Good enough for me. Ladies and gentleman, I pissed in the Great Barrier Reef. And I heard a while ago that it warms up wetsuits – yep, confirmed.
Later on, I even did it again. No shark bites, just fish swimming in my urine (and vomit from earlier). Sorry sea life! I feel like on a mere technicality, it kind of cancels out because I too had vomit on me and swam in urine that day.
Oh yeah, another lovely holiday!