Thursday, November 22, 2012

Captains Log. Day 9 in the Outback. 08 hundred hours. Lame Crocodile Dundee Meets Wolf Creek Murderer Incarnate

Captains Log. Day 9 in the Outback. 08 hundred hours. Lame Crocodile Dundee Meets Wolf Creek Murderer Incarnate

Day 9 in the outback and it has been determined with unquestionable precision that THIS New Yorker is not cut out for life in "the bush". Post managing to sprain BOTH ankles on hikes through Australia's red center, the only appropriate nickname for yours truly from here on out is "Lame Crocodile Dundee" (with which our tour guide wholeheartedly agrees). Yes, my dear friends, the Outback is unrivaled in its complete and total smack down on Manhattan in what has been an epic battle between big city vs what could be earth's final unexplored frontier (or Mars, depending on your perspective). Yes, the outback reigns supreme with a complete shut out... outback: 3 (killer ants, AKA: assholes + 2 sprained ankles) NYC not even making it onto the board. #epicfail. However, though the outback seems to have emerged victorious in the rugged outdoors competition, New York managed to eek out a victory of its own by witnessing some of the most stunning scenery in the country and possibly the world. In that way, we are both winners (but only one of us is limping)

On the bright side, with the ankles convalescing nicely, the 10k hikes behind us, and the close of our Outback adventure approaching rapidly, we can collectively heave a sigh of relief that we are still alive...for now...For as we embark from Alice Springs on the final leg of our epic (fail) journey, it has become disturbingly apparent that our friendly tour guide may or may not be the "wolf creek murderer", as I've so fondly dubbed him. Not familiar with the movie Wolf Creek? Allow me to enlighten you. There was a dude with long hair and beard who gruesomely murdered a bunch of backpackers traveling through Australia, one of which got away to describe her attacker (who happens to look suspiciously similar to our beloved tour guide) to the police. This formed the basis for the movie Wolf Creek, which occurred in a charming little one shop town called Barrow Creek. Not surprisingly, our guide was questioned in the case, given that he too has long hair and a beard (and may or may not have actually murdered unruly tourists who refused to get up on time or wash dishes). I am merely basing this potential scenario on the number of murder jokes that have arisen over the last 24 hours...(currently in the double digits with no signs of stopping anytime soon) Kinda funny. But not funny like "haha" but funny like "uh-oh". Apparently murder is on many a mind round these parts...dun dun!

As the group collectively wonders whether we will make it to Darwin alive, we continue to take in quintessential Aussie outback scenery...such as the Devils Marbles, quaint roadhouses and miles and miles of not really much of anything (except a sea of termite hills, a kangaroo here and there and the occasional "elusive dingo", which "Murderer Número UNO" continues to point out and I continue to NOT see). Luckily we are tantalizingly close to the maturanka Thermal pool where we hope to avoid becoming crocodile bait while swimming in a lagoon.

Captain signing off. Over and out for now. More updates to follow (unless we are eaten by crocodiles, bitten by snakes, abducted by aliens, or murdered in our sleep at the hands of our friendly tour guide...only time will tell)



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Sunday, November 18, 2012

Sunset in the Outback

Garden of Eden

Captains Log. Day 4 in the Outback. 0 11 hundred hours. Opals are Awesome, Ayer's Rock ROCKS, Ants Remain Assholes and Sprained ankles are a bitch.

Captains Log. Day 4 in the Outback. 0 11 hundred hours. Opals are Awesome, Ayer's Rock ROCKS, Ants Remain Assholes and Sprained ankles are a bitch.

After a successful invasion of Coober Pedy and its opal mines, we emerge enlightened on the process of extracting opals from the earth, preparing them for sale and finally, a few hundred dollars poorer with the inevitable purchase of said opals. When in Rome..However, let the record show that yours truly effectively haggled the price down from exorbitant to somewhat palatable. Unfortunately, I was NOT so successful in trying my hand at noodling for opals in the hills and managed to effectively sprain an ankle in the process. Which is a bitch in the outback given the sweltering heat and distinct lack of bodegas with ice, bandages, ibuprofen and anything else that could prove useful in such a situation. Taxis? Nowhere to be seen :) A real bitch for sure. Score one more for the outback. Manhattan still at 0.

However, in happier news Ayer's Rock (AKA: Ularu) has lived up to all the hype. It's massive facade can be seen for miles protruding out of the desert like an alien spaceship...which may or may not be too far from the truth, given that apparently it's a sacred place for the Aborigines who believe that our celestial creators created it to teach us how to live in harmony with the land and the earth...an interesting theory for sure. I, for one, can see where they're coming from. It's easy to imagine aliens (or celestial beings) descending to earth, carving up this massive structure (that apparently plunges 5 kilometers below the surface of the earth BTW), and leaving the local Aborigines with some words of wisdom before zipping back to space. (Such as, "love mother earth, respect father sky, and kill whitey", perhaps?? Just a stab in the dark here...) Who really knows for sure, but I tend to prefer this explanation to the scientific: two faluvial fans colliding over millions of years. Celestial creators has a certain ring to it. A certain je ne say quoi...

In other news, ants are STILL assholes, as yours truly donned an Australian swag and slept among the biting swarms the last two nights. Their numbers remain strong, and no amount of swatting, stamping, kicking or cursing have proven to deter their race to bite the shit outta anyone who happens to cross their path. Outback: 3. Manhattan still 0. However, the Germans have decided to launch countermeasures of their own, in a series of complex maneuvers, they have collaborated to sing "Gangham Style" in such an accent that would confuse and bewilder even the most traveled tourist, while dousing themselves in sauerkraut and bratwurst. Time will tell if their mission will be successful, but in the meantime, the English and Americans are prepared for Plan B: giving up completely and booking a swank hotel in the desert. Will be sure to report more once further developments emerge.

Captain signing off. Over and out. More updates to follow.




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