About Sally

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ok im back, back in Australia, back blogging and back (after 2 years) in a city...lets see how this thing works....join me!

Saturday, February 19, 2011

sunday 20th feb

20th feb 2011 – Melbourne

And so, back to the blog she goes.

a very quick recap for you all…… so I hot footed it out of Nelson within the two week mark, headed to Melbourne for a quick 14 day holiday of drunken stupidity with my dear friend Jess and then, finally, headed with the most enthusiasm I had had in the entire month, back to my beloved Byron, where my beautiful friends awaited me with open arms and knowing smiles, they had, of course all been following my hallowed tales dans la blog.

In between the tequila shots and champagne that Melbs held for me, I also stumbled upon a hairdressing course that far outweighed the measley looking one amongst the strip clubs and Mc Donalds of the Gold Coast.

Back in Byron I decided that this was the course for me, so after a lengthy enrolment process, and the visa complications that I live my life by, I am finally here, back in the city of Melbourne.

Alas, things never work out quite as dream like as one hopes….. for one, the shock of the city is one that im not sure I will ever get used to. Within 10 minutes of ‘Sal in the City’ I was sneezed on by a, not entirely clean looking, woman. I then headed to my school to say hi and collect/drop off some paperwork. Upon entering the school I was confronted by 10 “Shazzas” (as my friend Jessica would call them) half a dozen of the beasts were more than overweight, with the customary hacked off mullet hair doo, token blonde streaks gleaming in the neon salon lighting, in the over straightened fringe…… “my god, what have I done!” I thought rather loudly to myself, this thought was accompanied by a matching facial expression I am sure.

As I reached for my paper bag to prevent hyperventilation, Colleen, the school accounts lady, swooped in and ushered me upstairs to sign away my life for the next 18 months….oh well….im sure it’ll all work out.

As far a as accomadation is concerned I have had even less luck.

I had already booked into the aptly named ‘Space’ hostel for 2 nights. Upon arrival I realised that the ‘space’ part, was mainly because it was still under construction…. a building site, complete with dust sheets and brick dust throughout.

my shared room happened to be with 5 other boys. Stark white walls surrounded, with air conditioning blasting my eyeballs out. I had 2 mediocre nights sleep, after which I decided to head somewhere else…..on my way out I bid the receptionist adeau and trotted off towards the even more aptly named “Hotel Discovery”.

Now this, my dear readers was an experience to behold, and proved in everyway that Sally can pretty much cope with anything…officially.

After being checked in by the surprisingly rude Indian man at reception I headed thru the bright yellow door towards my fate. I clattered into the old rusty lift, the only way up to the 3rd floor, and clumsily stumbled around until I found room 333. I walked in and the smell hit me. Damp, sweat and teenage boys combined, to create a musty stench that lingers in the nostrils.

A rather obese man lying on one of the 4 sets of metal bunk beds rolled over and said “welcome to hotel shithole, you look far too pretty to be in here love…”

“Just like prison, its actually like prison” I thought, as my best hospitality smile spread across my face before I could stop it.

I literally dropped my bags, bundled my laptop, passport and anything else too precious to be stolen, into my backpack and bolted out the door.

I then spent the rest of the day at the library frantically searching for houses, emailing friends and family to let them know where to find my body should I not escape alive, and wandering around wishing I could disappear into one of the many book shelves, nestled safely between the warm musty pages.

This was followed by yet another bag of liquorice (my second in two days..my only comfort, and source of food right now) and a walk thru the city streets, day dreaming of having my own little studio hidden down one of the many cobbled back streets, far away from backpackers and obese people alike.

By 7.30pm I had been walking for a good 4 hours and decided I had to head back and face the music at some point. Back at “Hotel Disgusting” I headed up to the room of sin. A rather disjointed german couple had joined the scene. He, a scrawny looking 19 year old with bad highlights and a love of cheap aftershave, and her, a rather rotund looking female, was squeezing herself zealously into a rather snug LBD with the help of said boyfriend, who was now sweating profusely, and with this, was leaking his terrible eau de yuck, all over the place.

“Hello” I chirruped, trying desperately to stop judging them before they had even opened their mouths.

They stared at me like I was an alien and then started whispering to each other and carried on jimmying the dress into position. I climbed onto my rickety bunk and surveyed the scene. 4 sets of equally dodgy black metal bunks were dotted around the edge of the room, the entire centre area, normally left for activity, or standing space, was filled with back packers crap…..clothes, deodorant, straighteners, shoes, hair brushes, make up and general shit.

I piled my things neatly into a corner and draped my blue velvet jacket over the whole lot in the hope it would not be either vomited on, or stolen within the next 48 hrs.

After an hour blogging with gusto, all the above reprobates had left the building headed for a night of happy slapping and rohypnol no doubt. I revelled in the silence. I then showered, brushed toothy pegs and clambered into bed to read.

“ah, not too bad” I thought to myself as I pulled the covers up to my ears and rolled over for a much needed sleep.

However, this tale could never end well, for if it did, I surely would have nothing to blog about and you, my dear readers, would never tune in.

At around 3am I stirred in my sleep aware of others in the room. As my senses returned and my ears started to tune in I recognised the familiar heavy breathing that only ever accompanies one when either climbing a very steep set of stairs, or shagging…..

I kid you not my darling ones, less that 100 meters away from me, the fat German and twiglet boy were playing ‘hide the Brotwurst’ in a very unglamourus fashion. I rolled over and covered my head with my pillow, trying to drown out, not only the sounds of the muskrat love, but also the ear piercing, glass smashing, blood curdling screams that were playing over and over in my head as I tried desperately to think of anything else and return to my happy place.

Once the carnal urges had ‘surpassed’ shall we say, both of the offenders konked out immediately snoring like villians while I was left feeling dirty and abused like some sort of victim of mental rape.

Slowly but surely sleepyness arrived once more and I welcomed it with open arms….

4am, now this one really took the proverbial biscuit…..

3 loud, loutish, Irish youths barged into our room, smashed the light on, and started screaming at each other in their slurred Gaylic tongue. Startled, I woke immediately, pulled my sheets up around me as a sort of protective nest, and reached for Unyun in the fear they may trample him, should he throw himself to his mercy.

The tiresome threesome then proceeded to shout at each other, whilst brawling on the floor. Im not sure quite how, but one of them ended up naked, the other two then pounced on him, laughing and slapping his scrawny irish body. The sound track to this was that of burping, bordering on vomiting noises, and loud boyish farts which they were aiming at each other faces, whilst howling with laughter.

After 30 minutes of this the hoodlums finally make their ways to bed, only ot pass out instantly and spend the rest of the night drowning in alcohol laced spittle.

I awoke this morn not a happy bunny. One of the boys woke up at my alarm which, I must say, I let ring a little longer than normal, a slight revenge but one all the same.

“Morning” he muttered.

No apology, nothing. I simply glared at the disgusting figure of a male that was slumped before me, climbed down the edge of the bunk, collected my showering implements and stormed out of the door.

After scrubbing myself industriously, drying and dressing, I headed back to the cess pit, where lay the slumbering 6 people I disliked the most at that precise time.

I grabbed my backpack from the locker I had safely locked, and kept the keys tied to my person all night, and headed to reception to complain, then out onto the streets to begin house hunting…it was 7.30am on Sunday morning…..


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