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roodiaries · 7 years ago

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Tropical Thunder

The Journey North

I'm not talking of a Game of Thrones journey north, where the bitter cold whips one's bones to the brittle core as they pass beyond The Wall and into the icy depths of the unforgiving wildling realms. No. A nice gentle tropical journey north towards the equator, where beaches and tourists are plentiful, the palm trees nestled along an expansive Pacific coastline and the state of relaxation knows no bounds as yet another shrimp is procured from the figurative barbie. Stereotypes aside, the East Coast is fun, but a little too popular and similar at times. You have to make it your own, with good travel mates and a random journey.

Fresh from my incredible holiday in Vanuatu, I left Sydney with Yusuke on 11 September, excited to jump in the Nissan and plough northwards. I had to be in Cairns (2400km away) in 9 days for my new job. We didn't bother messing about too much in New South Wales, as we'd both spent a lot of time here and seen all we wanted to see. We Byron Bayed for a night, and enjoyed the tremendous views on offer there, before a short jump over the Queensland border to Brisbane, where we spent two nights and almost got towed.

The real journey into the unknown began after this, along with an epic 14-hour driving day where we ended up talking to a local woman about the effects of the recent cyclone in Rockhampton (which lies on the Tropic of Capricorn) and eventually reached Airlie Beach. Its electric atmosphere was unfortunately wasted on us tired travellers, as all we wanted to do was go to bed and shovel food down without the pressure and distraction of hostel kitchen chit-chat. Of course, we were awoken by an Aussie guy screaming – “I'll fucken' cut ye open, yer cunt!” – to a guy who had boldly told him to quieten down. Next day was the legendary Whitsunday Islands trip. All prior knowledge about this archipelago and national park had conjured up images of a calm sandy paradise, but we were in for a huge surprise as it turned out to be the ferry ride from hell and one of the roughest sea journeys I've ever experienced. I'm never sure whether I'm just being overly affected by things (scientifically known as OABT Syndrome), but it was bumpy as. Whitehaven Beach was a real treat, however.

It was more driving, driving in our car, north past the dispersing Great Dividing Range and glinty inland sunsets, through forests and fields, over sugar cane train tracks and past vast banana plantations. Townsville & Magnetic Island was the highlight of the trip for me. Mostly because the hostel was good quality – a good balance between social and quiet – and we met spirited Dutch Oz-newbie Jenny, who joined us for the sunset hike up Castle Rock, a towering and majestic hill over Townsville. The Maggie Island daytrip involved joining forces with Jenny's friend Lizzy, renting a mini open-top 4x4, a hot hike past wild koalas to WWII fortifications (I think I bored the others with any over-zealous talk of wartime history), one incredible sunset at West Point, a shy echidna and two brown tree snakes.

Cairns

Named after Irishman & Governor of Queensland, William Wellington Cairns, and unpronounceable without adopting an Aussie accent, this modest city of 140,000 inhabitants is a surprisingly pumping tourist mega-hotspot. Go more than 200m from the ocean and everything basically becomes shit (e.g. classic highways lined with industrial outlets and nothingy commercial suburbs), but the heart of the city is the marina and downtown area. Despite a smaller size, it has a nightlife to compete with most other Australian cities and a huge mix of nationalities. Steamy nights at Salt House, Pier Bar, The Reef Casino, Three Wolves and even The Woolshed will stay with me for a long time. The gorgeous green hills provide a tropical backdrop, and the Trinity Inlet is a beautiful spot to the south, while the beachside suburbs to the north – Trinity Beach, Kewarra, Palm Cove to name just three – are incredibly chilled out and enjoyable. Fishing with fun work-mates Max, Tun & Rankin on a boat trip up the river was a real privilege; as well as trips to Shangri-La's North Bar overlooking the marina with ex-Pullmanites and great friends Caitlin & Davide; the work-mate pool party at Caitlin & Max's house with poker and Cards Against Humanity was yet another reminder that this is not a normal life for an Englishman.

Nothing makes you feel more like you're in the tropics than the pungent smell of bat shit outside the Cairns Library, where hundreds of them gather before fleeing and feeding across the night sky. They are the animal that most represent Cairns for me, along with the ominous curlew, a gangly and awkward flightless bird that drifts in a ghostly way by night. I discovered the city by bicycle and was able to experience the city in all its hot, heavy, pungent glory.

The Winkworth Way

I moved in to 45 Winkworth Street in the western suburbs, paying $135 per week for a single room with a double-bed and air-conditioning. It was by far the best accommodation I've had in Australia. I loved the house for its airy openness and traditional Queenslander ambience, but mostly because of the fantastic people I lived with. I don't say this often, because I generally seem to end up in accommodation that's less than ideal. We were all travellers in the house, and all worked a lot so often wouldn't see each other for days at a time. But that made it all the more special when we did meet and hang out. There was Yukie, a Japanese lady from downstairs who dropped her keys in a bush when she fell down the stairs drunk one time; Ander from the Basque Country, who enjoys parties, bed bugs and violently offering biscuits as well as taking me on some excellent and fun day-trips; Leonie whose surname and town of origin (Ter Stege and Enschede respectively) Ander and I always enjoyed repeating back to her in a Dutch accent for immature amusement, who works too much but has a heart of gold; Tim, an Austin Powersy German dive instructor and goon connoisseur as well as a valued source of Stephen Colbert episodes; and Kacie from Texas, who is a rock of a friend and proves the Trump-American stereotypes wrong with a kind, fair outlook on life, and loves Australia if only it weren't for the cockroaches constantly falling on her head.

Even Andrew, the landlord, was pretty cool. Except for the occasions when he simply could not stop swearing in anger for minutes at a time, over some trivial thing that's happened with the roof or his phone. “Oh no. You baaastard!”

Pullmania

Working took up the bulk of my time. 39% of my waking hours over three months in Cairns were spent in the Pullman Cairns International Hotel. I actually calculated it. I had transferred up here from Sydney to fill the same role (a Food & Beverage Attendant, in Banquets), so technically should have known what I was doing. However, a few factors made PCI more challenging than PSHP: the climate was hotter, the furniture heavier, and many of the events much bigger and more challenging. It was a hectic & sweaty 3 months, and below I've chosen some events to paint a picture:

Friday 22 September: my first shift. I found my way through the labyrinthine back-of-house corridors in time for briefing, simultaneously meeting my manager, Karen, and the staff working tonight (most of the banquets team). In addition, we had lots of staff from Coco's (the restaurant in the lobby) and Staffing Solutions (a hospitality agency). I was behind the main bar with Italian sage Davide for a 400-pax cocktail reception, meaning canapés and free drinks for a bunch of lairy let-loose corporate types. Since it was the pool-deck, we couldn't serve glass bottles, so had to pour every single beer into a plastic cup. The queue was infinite, with murmurs of disapproval when not getting served immediately, and over the fact they had to drink beer out of plastic glasses. The struggle was very real and lasted for hours: one guy simply sighed, while another shook his head and laughed in disgust at my occasionally over-foamy beers. An arrogant racktastic blonde kept appearing at the bar, clicking her fingers and demanding to be served her rum & Coke (she knew it was my first day and that I would be a soft touch). I really felt shell-shocked when the event finally ended, and then overwhelmed with fatigue and frustration for the next few hours when we had to replace all of the furniture and polish all of the glasses we'd used tonight, which took us until 2am. 10-hour physical shift, no breaks. I soon realised this was not unusual.

Tiffany & Gareth: The Unhappy Bride. The grand ballroom was used to host the wedding reception of Tiffany and Gareth, an aboriginal couple who had married earlier today. Most of the guests were indigenous, too, and I always enjoyed doing events with aboriginal people, since I had seldom met any during my time in the South-East. However, Tiffany decided she wanted to ruin her own day by complaining about everything and causing problems in a truly bogan manner. Why didn't everyone have champagne for the toast!? This wasn't what I asked for on the buffet! Why are people getting too many free drinks!? Why did I get married!? The banquets team was on edge, and people snapped at each other, while our trooper of a supervisor, Shontelle, bore the brunt of the complaints (she had met with Tiffany several times before the event, and none of the things she was complaining about had ever been mentioned). She wanted a Fairytale Wedding, but wasn't the fairytale bride.

Melbourne Cup Day: I hadn't slept well the night before, and my body and mind weren't ready for a rare daytime shift. Some of the richest people in Cairns came to the hotel to mingle with fellow poshos over lunch, look fancy and watch the Melbourne Cup horse race on big TV screens. I was put in the fenced-off VIP section with my Team Leader, Harumi. All we had to do was pour drinks for them, or fetch beers from the bar, then clear their plates when they were finished with their buffet lunch. But things went wrong early on when I opened a bottle of champagne and the cork literally flew up to hit the ceiling, bouncing off it and landing in someone's lap on the other side of the ballroom. I could have melted with embarrassment, but played it off as the fault of the bottle (“she was a fizzy one!”) to the gawkingly judgemental woman I was serving. Luckily, neither the General Manager of the hotel, my F&B Manager nor the Banquets Manager had noticed, but I still felt traumatised and on-edge for the rest of the day. I over-compensated by being especially servile and smiley, and somehow managed to gain a $10 tip for my efforts. It was a horrible shift and I felt very alone. Some staff, like Tun, were supportive, patient and helpful, some were less understanding, while others simply didn't care. I hate the pressure not to mess up in these kind of VIP environments, constantly being on display and concentrating hard not to bump into stuff, drop things or spill drinks (difficult for me). And to look busy, even if you're inconveniencing the customer by reaching over unnecessarily to grab that one extra glass. It made me question whether the job was for me. But is this my career? Hell no. I decided to try meditation to relieve stress, which was reaching unhealthy levels during some shifts, like this one. It would have been nice to have some kind of feedback on your work, and to be told you had done well, or how to improve in certain areas. But that didn't seem to happen much here.