Tag Archives: Australia

Departure Time

In just five days my trip to Australia will be transformed into a blur of memories, a tie-dyed shirt with a couple of koalas and a kangaroo; a shitload of photos I’ll scroll through on Facebook from time to time and feel nostalgic… or relieved… or possibly confused? Fragmented thoughts: words exchanged, receipts, pay cheques, and Australian dollar bills, a scrapbook in my mind of all the magical places, and faces, and moments that changed me, forever.

And to think, I only came here because I didn’t know what else to do. I finished my Bachelor’s and thought, oh shit, this is where my plans end, like a sentence with no punctuation just hanging there waiting, stressing, hoping, hoping, hoping, wanting, waiting, for an answer, an instruction manual for how to live in the “real world”. It’s not like I expected to get a job right away with a Creative Writing degree, I mean, I may be  a dreamer and totally delusional at times but I’m not that unrealistic. So anyway, travelling seemed like the best option. Flying away from the mother bird, nesting in a new territory… eating [tequila] worms, experiencing life somewhere else. They say that “Life Experience” gives you wisdom and credibility, I don’t know about those things, but it definitely gives you more things to write about!

So I came to a place that I could speak the language and get a work visa. My goals were minimal: live, learn, see, work, and don’t run out of money!!! With two hundred dollars in my Australian bank account, a roof over my head, and sixteen meals give or take until I board the plane back to Canada, I think my trip has been a success 🙂 It has definitely been an exciting year with lots of ups and downs and sweat and tears, and I’ve learned A LOT about myself, and about Australia. Well, okay, not a lot about Australia, I mean, if you asked me to play the Australian version of Trivial Pursuit I would have to decline or spend hours living in silent agony… God, I HATE losing.

I definitely had a vision of Australia and its citizens before I arrived, and although some of what I imagined had its similarities in real life, most of it was pure fantastical fiction. Now, eight months later, the non-fiction I’ve discovered in every step, sip, bite, and pattern on every seashell will translate well into the realistic fiction I plan to write.

And who knows, maybe one of the characters in my novel will resemble a genuine Australian bogan.

Good, bad, ugly, beautiful.

If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t change a thing.

From bustling Sydney to laid-back Brissy, the discovery of douchey Surfer’s, magical Noosa, and beautiful Byron Bay, all of my wonderful adventures in Artsy Fartsy Melbourne, and back again to where it all began…

Sydney Kingsford (SYD) to Vancouver (YVR)

Departing May 12, 2013 at 10:25

sydneysunrise

Thanks for everything, Australia, it’s been fun!

Xox,

Heidi J. Loos

P.S. I’m coming home!

P.S.S. I’M COMING HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.P.S.S. TELL THE WORLD I’M COMING HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

4. Flip Me Over and Hear Me Scream

Dear Blogosphere,

Today I was told that I look like a screamer… Apparently my face, even in a totally composed state, screams, “Screamer.” Not moaner, or crier, or silent, bug-eyed rider, no, somehow, I definitely look like a screamer. I was just unaware that I wear a Screamer pride badge on my sleeve, until today. But, like duh-

OF COURSE I’M A SCREAMER!!!!!

Why the heck would I hold it in? Why would anyone want to hold it in? Screams should NOT be kept in cages and fed pellets and week-old vegetables. Screams should run wild and free. They should fizz and pop and explode. So if there is a scream hiding out, nesting somewhere inside of you, for fuck sake, LET IT OUT!!! And if you don’t think you have one in you, Fuck off! You’re totally lying.

LET LOOSE PEOPLE, and let those screams take you places you’ve never been. Allow those screams to fill your head with endorphins and make you dizzy and giddy and free. Don’t worry about what people will think of you or if you’re going to hurt someone’s precious little eardrums. It feels damn good to be a  screamer! And I’m almost-probably sure there are multiple health benefits to regular screaming sessions. I mean, I would know, I spent the whole day doing it and I feel great!

screamers

Oh come on! Get your mind out of the gutter! I was screaming all day because I went to an amusement park on the Gold Coast called DreamWorld and it was magically epic. Probably even more epic than it would have been because I didn’t have to pay full price. And if you ask me, the day-passes are ridiculously overpriced, like most things here in Australia but anyway… the kind gentlemen standing in line in front of us gave my girlfriend and I half price tickets!

THANK-YOU SUPERHERO EFRON, you made our day 😉 and I wish millions of good karma points to you, your family, and your loved ones! (As if he will ever read this blog… and as if his name is actually spelled like that…) but whatever.  I sincerely hope that he was not one of the unfortunate people who were trapped on a ride beside me, and deafened by all of my soprano blasts.

It seems that my screams only get louder with age. Rides that would have induced a small hiccough of a scream from six or seven or eight-year old me now induce shrill maniac panic. Rides terrify and excite me. The child in me, forever young, urges me to go on the really speedy, flippy, spinny, twisted giants and for every year of my life there is a new voice asking another question, why not just stay off and watch? Who builds these rides? Are they really safe? How often do they get maintenance? What kind of mechanic builds amusement park rides and not car parts anyway? Wait, no, don’t think that, that’s problematic! What is that horrible creaking sound?  Is that the engine? Is it supposed to stop like this, while we are hanging upside down? Has something malfunctioned?  OH MY GOD WE’RE GOING TO DIE!!!!!!

These voices can’t stop my inner child from getting what she wants because everyone, (or at least everyone that has known me for more than ten years), knows that little Heidi Loos was a Brat. So Bratty, and proud of it, I once owned a shirt that had Brat written on it in silver sparkly letters, or, it may have said “princess” but same dif- so all day I rode, and I screamed and I got thrown around, splashed in the face, tipped upside down, flipped backwards and sideways and jerked, creaked, zipped, zapped, splooshed and thrilled to the freaking bone.

And then,

IMG_6038  < I lost my voice!

Silent screams are soo not satisfying.

Maybe I need a screaming coach.

Until Next Time!

xOxO, (SCREAMS and kisses),

Heidi J. Loos