When a priest can see your nipples, you know something has gone a little awry. Fortunately as my nipples and I crossed the threshold into the church, instead of being met with a barrage of angrily thrown bibles and hymn books, I was met with wide eyes, open mouths, and stifled laughter – much better...
Cannonball and Uncle Bulgaria dragged us away from the growing crowds, up the gently sloping beach, and onto the back of a waiting pickup truck which then drove us all of 300m down the dirt track which passes as the main road, to the room which I was to call home for the next six weeks. That first night we were treated like kings and welcomed into the community like long lost brothers. A feast had been prepared, and my stomach rejoiced at the thought of some sustenance after being empty for almost three days – little did I know that this was to begin the longest food binge I have ever been asked to undertake
During the 25 hour trip from London’s Heathrow (Via Seoul, South Korea) I had plenty of time to think about what arriving in Sydney would be like, and by the time the plane had touched down in the southern hemisphere, I had been expecting to walk off the plane straight into a Ramsey Street pool party, complete with Dr Carl playing his guitar, Toadie throwing some shrimps on the BBQ, and Felicity Scully handing me an ice-cold beer; instead I was met by a lengthy immigration form, a man wanting to know everywhere my shoes had been in the last six months, and a journalist who interviewed me for Sydney radio.
explore v. (ɛkˈsplɔː) 1. The action of travelling through an unfamiliar area in order to learn more about it
