There is something unbecoming of a man my age that still resorts to his mother’s help when eating fish. Ever since I was a kid, I have never been one to eat fish without my mother breaking it apart for me and removing any bones that might impale my esophageus. I would be met with raised eyebrows and looks of concern when I am out in public with my parents as I order bangus (fried fish) and rice. My mom would reach over the table and break it up for me in manageable, bite sized pieces. I resign to the fact that I am in deed, and will forever be a MAMA’S BOY. My dad laughs about it, I benefit from it and my mother – well, my mother is none the wiser. As far as she is concerned, she is simply being a mom.

Day 6 – Sipaka the Great

My mother took a much needed break after our trip to Camiguin, and I took a break from being a spoiled mama’s boy to being a self sufficient adventurous boy. We planned a trip to climb Sipaka (see Part I of my trip if you forgot) with my dad, Bernard, Loloy and his son Allan. So, of course anything you do in the Philippine summer must be done in the early morning because if you don’t, you will have to face the wrath of the island’s staunch humidity and heat. We set forth on this mini adventure just after breakfast, and by the time we hit the base of Sipaka, I was already shirtless and showing signs of sunburn.

My dad’s love affair with Sipaka is genuine and definitely warranted. It is indeed a spectacular little gem that the sleepy little town of Talisayan has to offer. The mini mountain is a buzz with tropical fauna and has the most interesting and breathtaking vantage points of the coastline. Every inch we took, every slippery step we forged, brought us to another spectacular view. I went a bit camera crazy whilst up there as my excitement being elevated above the town made me trigger happy. High above you can see the crystal clear blue water and the coral reef below. I felt bad for Bernard because every vantage point we walked to, I had to ask him to take a picture of me with the beautiful landscape below. I needed to ensure that I was capturing this moment and be able to give it justice on film.

The climb to the top was one thing; the climb back down was another. It was at this point that I wished there was a trolley to bring us back down as I wasn’t looking forward to sliding down this steep hillside. At the top we befriended these 4 little boys who were playing with a branch and disc and asked them if there was an easier way to get down. Knowing that we were hiking in their playground, I was almost certain that they knew of one, so my dad sweetened the deal, by offering a payment for their troubles. 20 minutes later we found ourselves at the bottom of the mountain and had 4 very happy boys with chocolate covered lips and 5 pesos sticking out of their pockets.

Day 7 – On the road again, destination – the surf beaches of Siargao

The use of the horn in an automobile is imperative when driving in the Philippines. Unlike the western world, the horn is not used as an outlet of road rage and anger; rather it is used to inform other drivers of your position and location on the road. In Australia or Canada you would honk the horn in a – “FUCK YOU ASSHOLE DRIVER! WHERE DID YOU LEARN HOW TO DRIVE!” kind of manner, whereas in the Philippines you would honk the horn to say – “AH EXCUSE ME, I AM RIGHT BEHIND YOU AND I AM GOING TO PASS YOU, SO KINDLY MOVE.”

The only problem with that is when you have to sit on the bus for hours on end, the repetitive blaring sound of the horn becomes unbearable and highly annoying.

After enduring a 10 hour bus ride to Suriago via Butuan we found ourselves at the ferry destination and port of entrance to get to the very popular surf beach Siargao.

Day 8 – Surfs up! Siargao!

The very next morning we boarded a ferry to get us to this popular tourist destination. 3 hours later we landed in General Luna (or simply GL to the locals) and stayed at this lovely beach resort called Patrick’s on the Beach, run by a German and Filipina, Andreas and Elizabeth. Patrick was the name of their very cute and adorable, half breed child. Our cottage sat 2m outside the beach and was adjacent to the resort bar – arms reach to a cold San Miguel beer. Could it get any better than this? I think not.

Siargao is one of those places in the Philippines that got lucky. The only reason it was developed was because of the foresight of an Australian tourist, who saw the marketability of the town and saw that the surf here was something not to be missed by any surfer. Siargao is now on the world map as it joins places like Australia and Hawaii as part of the pro Billabong Surf Tour.

My fascination with Siargao was met with a bit of disappointment. I really didn’t know what to expect coming here but when I saw Cloud Nine (the hot spot for surfers here in Siargao) I didn’t really think it was anything special. But then again, I live in Australia, home to some awesome surf beaches, so my standards are set quite high. I reckon Siargao, as beautiful as it was, was a bit lack lustre for my taste.

Day 9 – Heading further south – Davao, Muslim territory…

Davao is the city in Mindinao that instilled a bit of fear to the travelling tourist. Back in 2003, a bomb blast in the international airport deterred travel to the Philippines and brought the face of terrorism to a once quiet city. After travelling 3 hours on ferry from Siargao and then enduring a 7 hour bus ride to Davao, I was ready to just drink a cold San Miguel beer and hit the sack. Instead, Tito Boy (Loloy’s brother in law and Bernard’s uncle) picked us up at the bus terminal and brought us to Jack’s Ridge; a lovely lookout ridge restaurant where in the 2^nd World War, Japanese soldiers would hideout.

Day 10 – Samal Island – in search of pearls

Samal Island is one of those places in the world that you have to wonder, ‘how the hell did this beautiful beach appear out of nowhere?!’ Pearl Island Beach Resort is one of those magical places that you only seem to know the location of. It’s like the mystical story of Shangri La – the hidden mysterious land that no one has managed to find yet, but you have. This 5 star resort is full of adventure and excitement. There is a beautiful white sand beach, 2 lagoon swimming pools, beach houses on stilts above the water, beautiful coral, 2 sunken World War II ships to go scuba diving. You name it, Pearl Island Resort has it – only thing missing – pearls. Oddly enough, the pearl farm is not open to the public and the resort doesn’t even sell any in the gift shop!

Our day of lavish riches continued into the evening as we checked ourselves into the Waterfront Insular Hotel – another shi shi pooh pooh place where it’s all about living like a king in the Philippines. I indulged in some seafood treats and of course San Miguel beer whilst my parents tried their luck at the casino down the street.

Day 11 – full circle, back to where I started – Cagayan de Oro

My father comes from a very typical large provincial family that would put the Brady bunch to shame. The last time I was in the Philippines, my father and I drew out the Aquino family tree and at last count (and remember this is dating back to the mid 90’s) had over 36 first cousins. 36! That number has multiplied even more so now that my cousins started having their own families. In any case, the point that I am making here is that I have a very large and exponentially increased family in the Philippines. So, going to Cagayan de Oro, the land of the Aquinos, you could imagine the large warm reception I would receive.

After a 7 hour bus ride up the mountainous region of Mindinao, we passed by sleepy little towns like Quezon, Valencia and Malaybalay (which I really love saying!). We finally hit the city with the golden name – Cagayan de Oro, known historically for its gold that the Spaniards found in the river. We stayed at my Aunt Lucy and Mila’s house that they built a couple of years back which is conveniently located by the SM Mall.

My Tita Peling (Uncle Motie’s wife) greeted us at the door and prepared our welcome home meal.  Soon after, the welcome wagon came rolling in – my cousin Jhean, her husband Carlo, their children Miso, my god daughter Lynn and James (aka Happy); my cousin Tehanie and her daughter, and finally my other cousin Jelf. The expected warm reception was beyond what I expected. There is nothing like seeing family together, laughing, reminiscing, and seeing the excitement in their eyes in anticipation of the events over the next couple days of my visit. We had so much to do, and in so little time. I had only 3 days there and 12 years of catching up with my cousins.

Day 12 – Fam Jam: The Philippines Edition

It was once known as SHOE MART and now it’s simply called SM. Either way, whenever anyone mentions those two letters, you think one thing: SHOPPING! I am not much of a shopper. Don’t really care much for it, unless I actually need something, then I will prepare myself to battle the mad rush of people in malls and venture into a shopping centre. But there is something about shopping in the Philippines that just gets me all riled up and energized. I reckon it’s the fact that my money goes a long way in Asia. Go to Thailand with 100 Australian dollars and you could live like a king for a month. Go to Cambodia with 20 Canadian dollars and I am sure you could get a week’s accommodation in a 5 star beach resort. So here I am, in the Philippines, not really needing anything, yet wanting to buy everything. Most things are reasonably cheap, or cheaper than what you would pay for if you were in Sydney or Toronto. Shopping in the Philippines is like buying a sale item, not really needing the item, but buying it because it’s a steal. I needed to focus though; I needed to just buy things that were essential and necessary. (Side note, next time you see me, ask me to wear these pretty cool skinny jeans that I found at Bench for just 20 bucks! Not essential, but pretty damn hot!)

My cousin Jhean is quite the character. She is absolutely stunning (as all Aquino’s are – we are genetically predisposed to be ridiculously good looking – don’t laugh, it’s true!) and very funny. The mother of 3 (also good looking children), Jhean has a lot on her plate, but yet took the time to be my tour guide for the day. She picked me up from the house and dropped me off to where? You guessed it – the mall.

Time lapse: 3 hours

Although my legs were sore from marching to every store in the mall, I stayed with Jhean to hook up with my other cousin (Jhean’s younger sister) Cherry Pink – who simply goes by Pink now. She wanted to meet me at her old university stomping grounds where she graduated because she wanted to show me the school’s museum. I am a glutton for history and enjoy these sorts of things, so I didn’t want to pass up this opportunity. When I saw Pink standing outside the front gates of her school, my mouth just dropped. I couldn’t believe my eyes, this little girl who I remember as this small little tom boy who would punch the snout of a pig, has become this full fledged woman! Little Cherry Pink has become a smart, attractive, beautiful (remember the Aquino gene?) woman. Time really does fly.

All the cousins had planned to get together for dinner tonight, minus the parentals, for dinner, drinks, karaoke, billiards and more drinks. So there we were - all 8 of us - Myself, Jhean, Pink, Tehanie, Jelf, Beethoven, his wife Sheila and Carlo. We had a traditional Filipino bbq meal topped with the coldest San Miguel beer you could find in Cagayan de Oro. Surrounded by laughter and smiling faces as we jovially enjoyed each other’s company.

By the time the night was over, I had my baby cousin Jelf drunk as a skunk, Tehanie who is a terrible drinker in stitches laughing and Pink singing her lungs out for the final karaoke song of the evening. By the time I finally hit the sack, it was 4am. 2 more hours and I had to get up for white water rafting. Ugh. I am too old for this shit! I guess I am a glutton for punishment hey…

I have quickly come to realise that living and working in Australia is much like living in and working in any part of the world. It’s the same shit. You wake up, go to work, come home and get ready for another day in the office. Whether you are living on the beautiful beaches of Sydney or living in a manic concrete city like Toronto – it’s the same shit.

Travelling is really where my heart finds joy and awakens my sleeping soul.

I had planned a huge Asian trip this year, complete with Filipino cock-fighting, Vietnamese killing fields, Laotian temples, and Thai girls with ping pong balls. But my plans were thwarted when my sister and her boyfriend got engaged in Vegas last August. Their wedding date was set for 2009, so all my annual leave (vacation day,s for you Canadians) and my resources (money) was allocated for this trip instead. Asia will always be there, but your sister’s wedding is a once in a lifetime thing, so it was a no- brainer for me.

After carefully examining my financial situation and annual leave hours, I decided to do a 3.5 week trip to the Philippines. Timing had it, so that I was able to meet up with my folks, who in their retired years, was chasing the summer and living on their newly built farm in Calamcam, Mindanao. So, on the afternoon of March 23, I boarded a Qantas plane to awaken my sleeping soul.

The last time I was in the Philippines, I was a pimple faced 18 year old . So, needless to say, travelling to the Philippines as an adult certainly gave me a whole new perspective and appreciation for the country of my ethnic roots. This was also probably the last time that I had travelled anywhere with my parents on holidays. So, this trip was already shaping up to be something really fantastic, or something really agonising. I was hoping for the former but expecting the latter.

Let me tell you people, if you ever get a chance to travel with your parents at an adult age – DO IT. Not only was everything FREE, old people are actually fun to travel around with! I had such a good time with my mom and dad. We laughed, we reminisced, we talked, we toured, we discovered, we even roughed it at times but more importantly – we did all this TOGETHER. It was truly a blessing.

Day One – The Arrival

The plan was for my mom and my Aunt (who is a nun, whom we adoringly call ‘Aunty Madre’) to pick me up at the airport. If anybody knows anything about Filipinos, they know that when it comes to travelling to the Philippines, they get scared for you. It’s like they think that every kidnapping attempt will be made on your life at that particular juncture. Trusting us to our own devices, is not an option. So, there they were, my mom and my aunt waiting with big smiles at the gate at NAIP (Ninoy Aquino International Airport) embracing me with open arms.

Day Two – The second Arrival – Cagayan de Oro

My dad has been quite elusive the last couple of years. Very Polkaroo like. Everytime I am in Canada he’s in the Philippines. When I go back to Sydney, he goes back to Toronto. In the last 3 years, I probably saw my dad a total of 2 times. He’s been very busy building his dream farm in his home town province. So needless to say, when I saw my dad at the Cagayan de Oro airport he was definitely a sight for sore eyes.

After a brief moment at my Tita Lucy and Mila’s place for breakfast, we began the 2 hour trek east of Cagayan de Oro to my dad’s hometown of Calamcam, Talisayan. The winding roads and the warm provincial air was reason enough to fall asleep in the passenger seat, missing the whole trek to the farm. When I finally managed to open my eyes, we found ourselves  on this uphill driveway that lead to this enormous, giant green gate with the words ‘Villa Estrella’ prominently displayed in fantastic white lettering. Joey (our driver) honks this horn and within seconds 3 guys appear from across the street opening the gates for us. The rock laiden driveway lead to the house, circling at the door (quite reminiscent of our family cottage back in Canada). It was a spectacular site, and an anomaly at that. You have to think – where did this beautiful house appear from? It came out of no where! Here in the quiet, little township of Calamcam, emerges this gated little ‘Villa Estrella’ that looks and feels like paradise. Quite astonishing.

I got out of the car and introduced myself to the guys who had opened up the gate for us. They were - my Uncle Motie, who I haven’t seen in ages. I gave him a big hug and felt the lump in my throat as he hugged me with welled eyes. Bernard, who is my dad’s helper in the house, with his limited english, was able to say hello to me. Finally, Loloy, my dad’s gardener who just lives across the street with his wife and 7 children.

After taking a quick tour around the house, I took a much needed shower and rest before hitting White Beach with my dad as we spent the hour floating, soaking in the warm sun, talking and catching up on things.

Day 3 – Sipaka, the next big thing?

When I was writing these notes for my blog, my dad said (on numerous occasions), “Make sure you write about Sipaka in your blog! That way everyone will know about this beautiful place!” Well, he wasn’t lying. It really was spectacular and one of Talisayan’s hidden gems.

We hired a boat and crew to take us out to the island of Sipaka, a volcanic island just off the coast of Talisayan. The tall, cascading trees, climbing vines and grandios rock face gave this island a Jurassic Park feel to it. I was convinced that somewhere in the jungles of Sipaka, lay the tyrannosaurus rex awaiting its next visitor prey. We were it and I was going to be his next chicken adobo.

We docked the boat on this secluded beach and stationed ourselves by some rocks that we used as a table. My mom - fully dressed in a fisherman’s hat, long sleeves and pants – so as to avoid getting dark, planted herself by the rock and cooly laid her feet in the water. My dad and I on the other hand, dove straight into the water with our goggles and snorkelled the coral reef. We then got out and with the boat crew, Bernard and Loloy, ventured along the coast of the island finding water holes, crabs, and finding rock faces that we jumped off of into the blue water below. I even managed to convince my dad, who has vertigo to jump off the cliff as well! Ha!

The heat was pretty intense as the afternoon sun was above us. We had our lunch back at the beach and drank some coconut liquor on the beach then headed back to the mainland. On the way back however, the boat broke down and if it weren’t for my dad’s brilliant idea of bringing his mobile phone, I reckon we would have been drifting out into the open sea like a refugees fleeing their country. We called in another boat to tow us in, and thank god – only 2 days into my vacation and I think I already turned 2 shades darker!  I was turning bleck.

Day 4 – Enroute to Camiguin

One of the greatest things about the Philippines is their leniency (or lack) of rules and regulations. In Canada, alcohol can only be served at 11am. Here in the Philippines, I had a beer for breakfast at 6:30am! Love the San Miguel beer.

Day 4 had us travelling from Talisayan to Balingoan, the port of entry to the island of Camiguin. From there we jumped on a ferry headed to Benoni Port. We hired a mulitcab with Jeffrey, our new driver and pseudo tour guide. He suggested we check into these cottages by White Island beach. We agreed without even looking at other alternatives as we were just tired of travelling on the bus and ferry. We just wanted to sight see. In making that rash decision, we missed out on the opportunity to stay at Paras. This newly developed resort just down the street from where we were staying, had everything from parasailing to all night swimming pool facilities. Instead, we got a 1 bedroom shack with a toilet shower.

In any case, we didn’t care – we were in Camiguin! Whoo hoo! What’s so exciting about Camiguin you ask? As it happens, Camiguin was one of those places whose history was so fascinating that I couldn’t be helped being drawn to it’s alluring story.

The island is made up of a series of volcanoes, one still active today but showing no signs of busting a nut. The first stop on this tiny volcanic island was the Stations of the Cross. Carving through the side off the mountain are giant sculptures of the Lord’s journey on that fateful day. Larger than life sculptures line this winding trail until you reach the pinnacle at the very top of the mountain. Unfortunately, the heat and rough terrain hampered my quest of seeing the final station. But it’s okay, I know how it ends!

From there we made our way to the Sunken Cemetery. Once upon a time there was a cemetery by the sea. One day, a giant earthquake rocked the island and the cemetery sunk to the bottom of the ocean. All that remains of this cemetery is a lone cross, piercing out of the water, reminding the world of what it once was. The end.

All joking aside, this was one of my favourite discoveries. I hired a boat to go the lone cross that stands out in the middle of the sea and on the way there, was able to see through the crystal clear water, some fallen tombstones. A hundred years in this watery grave gave way to new coral, covering some of the old epitaphs etched on the headstones of the deceased. It was quite surreal and spiritual at the same time.

Another historical site at Camiguin, are the church ruins. One of the oldest churches in the Philippines, this church was built in 1871 only to be destroyed by hot ash from the eruption of one of the island volcanoes. Some say that the eventual fate of the church was no coincidence. Islanders believed that the church met its doom simply because of what happened there for many years. Apparently, (and this is all speculation, but I seriously wouldn’t put it past them) Spanish priests used the church as a place for their sexual escapes. The whole Sodom and Gammorah thing was totally happening back in the old church and the big G wasn’t going to have any more of that nonsense. So he blew a gasket and just like that, the volcano burned the old church down.

Other notable highlights of Camiguin are the cold springs and hot springs where we spent most of the afternoon relaxing our muscles from all the sight seeing. We ended the night by beautiful sunset with, of course, a cold San Miguel beer in hand.

Day 5 – Camiguin – Giant Sandbank and Giant Clams

We woke up at 4am the following morning to catch the sun rise on a beautiful stretch of beach (well, really sand bank) off the coast of Camiguin. The U-shaped sand bank is a 5 minute boat ride out and a wondrous sight first thing in the morning. Everything just seemed so vibrant at that time - the sand so white, the water so blue, the sunlight a warm and gentle orange. Everything on that island was as beautiful as the moment we had there. Then because of all the beer I had the night before, I could feel my stomach yearning for a toilet. We called for the boat to come pick us up and I asked my dad if he could if they had a speed boat to send for us instead.

Before heading back to the farm, I had one last tourist stop on the list that came highly recommended by the manager at Paras - swimming with the giant clams at the Kibila Giant Clam Sanctuary. And that I did. Honestly, I felt like Arial and Sebastian were going to come swimming out of these giant clams singing ‘Under the Sea’ – that’s how massive these clams were! Then I thought to myself, that these things probably have giant pearls in them and if I could somehow pry one of these clams open, I could be rich! It was the daughter of the sanctuary manager who quickly corrected me, “Umm, sir, clams don’t have pearls – oysters do!”

I hate smart kids.

A wise person once told me that you should always remember your 30th birthday, as it is for obvious reasons, the beginning of a new decade in one’s life. Your 20’s were all about self discovery and playing with fate, whereas your 30’s is a celebration of life where one is comfortable in their own skin. I don’t know how much of this is true, seeing as how I am 27 years old. (Ehem… 6 times over. But whatever. ) In any case, you understand my point. There is great importance in celebrating your 3oth birthday in style, grace, joyous exuberance, copious amounts of vodka and above all else - inappropriate times of doing the “running man.” This is the story of my weekend away with friends as we celebrated the anniversary of the birth of a good mate… Jo Tan.

Byron Bay is located 759km north of Sydney and just 2 hours south of Brisbane and is the most easternly point in all of Australia. Named after the the famous grandfather of poet Lord Byron (who wrote the poem Don Juan - my hero), the town is primarily full of tourists, backpackers and hippies - as it’s a great destination spot for surfers and surfers alike. As autumn was in full swing, it was easy to find accommodation at this time. We managed to find this beautiful summer home to hire out for the week, just a hop skip and a jump away from the beach.

The Cast:
(In order of appearance ,based on who was at the airport first)

Mark Aquino
as the annoying team leader and music provider

Sam Lee
as the perpetually sick girl

Jo Tan
as the Birthday Girl and star of the show

Daryl Tan 
as the quiet, cool tempered brother of the birthday girl

Fran Dwyer
as the sister in law, notorious for making up words

Darren Chek (aka Checker)
as the poker teacher and the bourban drinker

Steven Dal Molin (aka Steve)
as the guy who just wanted to watch AVP: Requiem

Sue Dal Molin
as the cinnamon french toast maker and cousin of Jo and Daz

Adrian Chua
as the “I am still working but on holidays” IBM staffer

After a close brush with death, we landed with whiplash and concussions, as our pilot (who I believe might have been Stevie Wonder) landed our plane on a very windy Ballina Airport strip. After sharding our shorts and peeing our pants, we managed to find a safe mode of transportation to take us to our summer house. It was during this 2o minute drive to Byron Bay that I discovered from my fellow housemates, that they have never been to Byron before, or that they don’t remember much of Byron. I soon realised that it was I, the tourist, the foreigner, would have to be the one to enlighten. As you might remember, I was already here about a year ago with my backpacker mate Sue (revisit my post under the category Beautiful Byron Bay) and I stayed at a hostel by the beach. So, needless to say, I had no qualms taking up the challenge of playing tour guide. I love playing host. I just reiterate a couple of things that I read from the first paragraph of a Lonely Planet and sound like I am the biggest nerd in the world. Too easy!

We finally arrived at party central. A summer home with 4 bedrooms and 3 baths. A large kitchen and lounge area. Definitely party central. At the door was the already arrived Sue and Steve. We greeted eachother with familiar hugs and kisses and as I came through the door, I shook Steve’s hand and said, “Hello. What’s your name mate?” To which he replied, “Steve. What’s your name?” To which I responded, “Oh, my name is Mark.” “Morrick?” “No, Mark.” “Oh. Maaaark. Got it.” I reckon that was the best ice breaker ever.

We took no time at all getting into party mode as we found ourselves at our first pub rather early - like 4pm early! The Byron Hotel. We drank, we conversed, we drank some more, we conversed a little more loosely, we drank a little more, then the food came, thank god. I was about ready to upchuck some of this alcohol and it was only 8:30pm! As we continued our jovial conversations, poor little Sam was in the corner fevering up a sweat. I told her to drink some alcohol as a remedy to her ailment, cause I figure it makes sense - alcohol is strong enough to rid your system of any bacteria right? So why not drink?!

Close to 6 hours later, we found ourselves walking the streets of Byron Bay as a loud obnoxious group of asians and one white person, who I am sure everyone thought was our tour guide or translator. We came across a pedestrian crossing, to which the birthday girl took as a stage for her dance. Without even realising what was happening, we turned around to find Jo in the middle of the street, blocking traffic as she did the “running man” the way the “running man” was supposed to be danced - like M.C Hammer. We yelled at her and told her to come back to us, but she was gone. She finally managed to cross the street, and venture into a lonely club that played RnB music - music to Jo’s ears. As we were the first ones there, we took the opportunity and danced every inch of that club. Before you knew it, the club started filling up. Clearly, people saw how much fun we were having in there, that they needed to come in and follow us.

There is something about overtly drunk people finding the like. It’s like they have a honing device that allows them to easily find other equally drunk people to join forces to make bigger asses of themselves to us amused semi-sober folk. Well Jo did just that. Let’s see, first there was DRUNK FALLING DOWN GIRL, who tried to keep up with Jo’s Janet Jackson dancing ways, who always fell down on her ass and needed to be picked up. Literally. Then there was SCARY MOTORCYCLE MAN whose dance moves were time warped from the 1970’s. Oh god bless him, he was dancing like he was going to pick up Jo, but little did he know that his seductive dance moves was also his biggest demise.

I woke up at 6am the next morning and ran on the beach. The sun was still warming the morning dew and I had to pick up the pace a bit in my run to muster enough heat to keep me mobile, but other than that, the morning was majestic. There is something about the rising sun and the sound of surf washing the sand that makes me happy to be living in Australia. Byron is beautiful. I needed that run in the morning to remind myself of that.

Adrian joined us that night as he flew in from Brisbane via Los Angeles. Quite jetlagged and groggy, he had no qualms joining us drinking beers almost immediately. Night 2 had us cooking up a storm at home for dinner. As the annoying team leader, there was a format for the evening. There was a team who was on pizza. Another team on salad. A team on SPAM sandwiches and for those not associated on a team had to clean up. Guess who was the leader of that group??!! ME! Whoo hoo!

After enjoying the delicious effort put in by all teams, we congregated around the table for some great conversations, more booze and my favourite part of the evening - a singalong. I busted out my favourite party trick and played some old 80’s music. Good value. We reminisced about some good times and tugged at our nostalgic heart strings. I even played some great 80’s television theme songs that I had on my iPod, from Family Ties - sha la la la, to Growing Pains - show me that smile again… ooh show me that smile. I even had The Greatest American Hero - believe it or not, I’m walking on air, I never thought I would be so free…. Ah. The memories. Good times, good times.

The next morning was a lazy morning. I was up again at an ungodly hour, and everyone took their time getting up. By the time it was 10:30am everyone was awake with the notable exception of  Jo and Sam. Sue and Fran didn’t want to knock on Jo’s door cause they knew Jo too well. She was never up before midday. Well, I decided that I was going to wake them up and so I barged outside to their loft and pounded on the door. Next thing you know, I see Sam’s face through the window glaring at me like I had murdered the family dog or something. I knocked another 3 times to no avail. We ended up leaving them at the house and took the group for a tour of the beach and lighthouse.

So, Sue, Steve, Check, Daz, Fran and I packed up our swimmers in our packs and headed out to the warm inviting sunshine. We walked along the beach and watched as the school of fish surfed the waves. Daz showed his talent of stone skipper off to the rest of the lot, whilst Check and I walked along the beach discussing life, relationships and work. Sue and Steve were still busy trying to figure out how to pronounce my name (ha!) and Fran was happily taking pictures in the background. We walked to the very end of the beach and found a lookout point.

We took the paved roadway up the hill to the lighthouse on our way to the easternly point of Australia. The tall free standing structure of the lighthouse was drawing closer and closer to us, and the more it did, the more beautiful the sights around us got. We were higher in elevation now and we could see as far as the blue sky can reach. From above, we can see dolphins playing a game of “Look - I’m a shark!” whilst the sea turtles took turns bopping their heads above the surface of water for air. We kept our eyes on the horizon in the event we might see a passing whale, but alas it wasn’t going to happen. It would have helped if it was whale watching season, but whatever. We dared to dream. Ha! We took pics at the most easternly point of the country, and enjoyed our gummy worms overlooking the bay. Down below was the last of our trek to the beach. We hiked another 40 minutes down the hill and jumped into the cooling waters.

Day 4 was the last day for some of us as we had to go back to work the next day. So, we made the most of it and hired bikes for a couple of hours. Just picture it. We looked like the VonTrapp family on bikes in their curtain made dress as we rode around town singing Do Re Mi. We were happy as larks. We hightailed it into a the manufacturing disctrict of Byron where we shopped to our hearts content, err well, some of us did. We bought cookies, shoes, and even managed to get a meat pie in there as well.

And as quickly and easy as the party started, it was now time to go. For Sue, Steve, Adrian, Sam and I, work was lurking its hideous face around the bend. Whilst Daz, Fran Checker and Jo got to enjoy the next 3 days without me waking them up early and in complete relaxation mode. Ha ha!

I often wonder who that person was that told me that you had to remember your 30th birthday. It’s bloody great advice if you ask me. What they failed to tell me though, is that your memory tends to faulter after 30, so I reckon you really need to celebrate your 30th with a big shabang cause otherwise, you would simply forget. Make it memorable. Make it good. Make it fun. Jo surely did.

This is Morrick signing off.

Here are the cold hard facts:

1. I moved to Balmain and didn’t have internet connection for a few days.
2. I was in Melbourne for business for 5 days so I haven’t been home to do blog work.
3. Work has been busy so I haven’t been able to bludge and do markumentary stuff.
4. My mate Michele (super cool hot Bajan friend from Canada who I worked at Club Monaco with and went to uni with) came to visit me and we did a road trip to Tasmania - which is a great lead in to my blog entry today…

It’s been a good 10 months since I actually packed my back pack and travelled around this great country of theirs (not mine, theirs). So, when my friend Michele came to visit me from Canada, I took this opportunity to do just that. I had 4 days to spare from work, so when I told Michele (who had a week to play with) she said one thing - LET’S GO TO NEW ZEALAND! To which I replied. Jigga wha?

So here’s the itinerary that Michele conjured up for New Zealand:

Day 1 - Fly to Queenstown, drive to Milford Sound (where they filmed The Lord of the Rings) which was a 13 hour drive, do all of Milford Sound, traverse the mountains, and drive back around the mountain (another 13 hours), past Queenstown and up the west coast to Franz Jozef which was an additional 6 hours away. Umm… perhaps I should tell Michele that there are only 24 hours in a day.

Day 2 - After crashing our car off the cliff of the treacherous mountains of New Zealand, we were to resurrect from the dead because Michele wanted us to be at Franz Jozef so as we can see the glaciers. Glaciers - because she hadn’t seen any before.  This coming from the girl who was raised in CANADA! Where we we have our own damn glaciers in British Columbia, Yukon, Northwest Territories, Alberta and I am sure the lovely people of Nunavut have a couple of glaciers that they snowboard off of themselves. But no… she wanted to see the glaciers! Cha.

Day 3 and Day 4 - Killing each other.

So as you can see New Zealand wasn’t in the cards for us, but surely if God closes a door, it is almost certain that He will open a window. That window came in the shape and form of Tasmania. One of the 6 states in Australia and home to the world famous Tasmanian Devil.

The next morning we found ourselves in Tasmania. Yay!

We had a 4 day road trip planned out (thanks to Michele - who had gotten much better at doing up itineraries by the way!). It was going to be action packed, fun, adventurous, exciting and new. We were both excited! So what happened as soon as we got there?

We got lost.

Michele will have you believe that it was all my fault. But of course, if you want the truth, you would listen to me. I don’t embellish at all. I tell the truth. So the truth of it was, Michele can’t read maps. So we got lost.

But - the upside to all this, is that I saved the day, and I swallowed my pride and decided to pull over to a petrol station and ask for directions. Then we were on our way…

First destination - Freycinet National Park to see Wineglass Bay. Doesn’t it just sound delisicious? Well, it was. The only problem was was that I got us lost and Michele got mad at me. Ha ha! You see, Michele has a problem with her knees after many years of cross country running, her knees were pretty much shot. So, when I decided that we were going to walk this way (pointing right), we were in fact taking the 4 hour hike to Wineglass Bay instead of going this way (pointing left) which was the 1 hour short cut to Wineglass Bay. Oops. My bad.

What made it worse was that I forced Michele to take pictures of me with the beautiful backdrop, whilst she was trying to concentrate on not cutting her legs off at the knees. But at the end of the day, we got this other couple to take a picture of us with the Bay behind us, with the sun slowly setting. It was brilliant. It was happy. It was the end of day one. 3 more to go.

After spending the night driving amid the Tasmanian night sky, we managed to dodge wallabies, possums and echidnas. We finally found a hostel. We rested and fended off the weirdos on our floor. Day 2 had us start in Launceston, the second largest city in Tasmania. Where we drove to Stanley to see the Nut. It was a good drive up to the Nut (which is a giant table top land mass, a la Ayers Rock in Alice Springs otherwise known as Uluru). Found in this quaint sleepy little town of Stanley was this giant land mass that gave us a birds eye view of the northern coast line of Tasmania. It was spectacular. On the way down to our next destination Cradle Mountain, Michele decided that we were going to take a short cut and chose this dirt road, off the beaten path, otherwise known as the road to death! We both got scared and decided to turn around and take the long way. Michele called me a scaredy cat, and I told her that I couldn’t stand her driving. After hours of name calling, we started singing show tunes in the car to keep our mind off the fact that we spent most of the day LOST than actually sight seeing.

Day 3 Michele wasn’t feeling well at all, as she was fighting off a sore throat and headache. So we spent the morning doing the famous Salamanca Markets and then travelling to Port Arthur where we did an about face as soon as we found out that we would have to pay $35 for a walking tour that both of us didn’t want to do. But it was actually a blessing in disguise because we had lunch at this cute little cafe where this kind waiter told us where to go instead. We discovered Cape Pillar and the Awesome Caves. You will have to check out the pictures on markumentary.com to see what how ‘awesome’ this cave was, cause seriously, this place was AWESOME hey.

Day 4 was the end of our end of Tasmanian trip.  The end of our Amazing Race. The end of Tassie. But not the end of our friendship as you may think. Amid our arguing and bickering, I would have to say that I would rate that trip as one of my best, most memorable trips I have ever had the opportunity of taking with a friend.

So that, my friends, is the reason why I haven’t been able to blog for sometime. I have been quite consumed with work and moving flats that I have even forgotten why I came to Australia in the first place! TO TRAVEL AND DISCOVER! So I am glad that Michele came to visit me, and I am even more happier that I have done this trip with her, because there is nothing like living in Paradise and having to share it with those that you care for and love.

Until the next road trip mates… Any takers? Ha ha… seriously. I can drive and have a great sense of direction. Really I do! 

So the anticipation of going back home was eating away at me probably 2 weeks prior to me leaving for Toron”ah” - as I so often say.  I was stoked! I was looking forward to giving my mom a giant kiss, giving my sister her pressies, seeing all my friends and giving them monsterous bear hugs, walking my dog, seeing my old officemates, eating my mom’s home cooked meals… My “to do list” was just as long as Pamela Anderson’s divorce count, so needless to say, I was raring to go.

Here’s how my visit back to Canada went in funny bullet point form:

- Cousin  Vince picked me up because sister and mother were not available. So much for my fanfare. At least Vince and I got to eat on my mother’s dime.
- Mom couldn’t hug me, she was full on sick. Still no fanfare.
- Kathy “I’m not fat, I’m pregnant” and Mario the lumberjack Podaru threw me a party. Finally - a fanfare.
- Saw the cousins at Nathan’s baptism. Who’s Nathan?!? Apparently my cousin had a baby whilst I was away.
- Drove to Steph and Jay’s house. Bear hugged Steph. Or was that the other way around?
- Jay attacked me for the Tim Tams that I brought him. He didn’t share any.
- Finally saw my sister. That bitch is still skinny!
- Tuesday was a day of rest for me. That, and none of my friends could play on Tuesday, so I was lonely.
- Played with a newly born, plasmatic, crying nephew. Aidan Bolos. Hairy as.
- Parents were doing well. Venette looked tired as, and Dante had a perma-smile like Rick Dees.
- Had drinks with Lily and Dan. Lily is beautiful as ever, and Dan went from scrawny little kid to the Incredible Hulk who is studying to become a cop. Ixnay on the drug talksay!
- Visited my old office at Canada Life. I haven’t worked there a year, and yet they threw me a potluck luncheon. I love them!
- Went clubbing in Mississauga. Umm… ya,  you read that right. I went clubbing in the Saug with the old Markham gang. I showed them my new dance moves that I use in Australia.
- Helped organise and helped ruin Rhia’s 30th surprise party. Damn pizza man!
- My friends from Windsor drove up to Markham to see me. God bless them. They drove home that night in sleet, wind, snow, freezing rain, and I think Hurricane Katrina as well. They made it safe. How much do I love them?
- Had dinner with Marie, Jay, Mikey, Maureen, Krissy, and Rachelle. Tried to convince Krissy to move Australia. Marie was not pleased. Ha ha!
- Went to the cottage and tobogganed down the driveway with my sister and Belle.
- It suddenly feels like Christmas now.
- Baby Jam at my goddaughter’s birthday party. All I have to say is bouncy ball playground and cupcakes. I was sold. Loved it.
- Fam  Jam at Venette and Dante’s. Did our annual gift exchange.
- Tracy and Joe announce their engagement. Okay, Roselle - we gotta do something here with our side of the family. Whatayareckon I join the circus or you get pregnant or something?! Come on!
- Met up with my mate Aiyana. Good laughs, good stories, good company.
- Flew to Vancouver. Stayed at Chateau Pernia. I had a coupon.
- Met up with Marty, his new bride Eileen, and of course my family. Nothing has changed, except of course people are getting married left right and centre and people are having children as often as I buy books.
- Did a Christmas Carol Cruise with my old Harbour Cruise friends thanks to Maki, Lilia, Rob, Elaine and Jo. Good times, good times. I was able to sing opera again without having to be judged.
- Reminded myself why I am going to move back to Vancouver, eventually.
- Flew Air New Zealand to come back home and all I have to say is - touch screen individual entertainment units? Uh huh. That’s the shit right there mate!
- Back home in Australia for Christmas and New Years…. life is grand.  

I want to tell you about the day I had yesterday. I want to tell you about it, because I don’t think it was anything special. It had nothing to do about being in Australia. It had nothing to do with a beach, a surfboard, sand or sun. None of that. It had everything to do with company.

My new gym friend is Reena. She is this drop dead gorgeous woman who is of Indian and Fijian descent, but full on Aussie. She has travelled to Canada on numerous occassions and for that reason alone we were already bonded. It was nice to share stories of Canadia with an Aussie who can relate to my experiences. On Saturday, Reena invited me to her 30th birthday party slash going away party. Yes, she is going away, but I will get to that story later. Patience grasshopper. So the theme of the party (and we all know I am a sucker for any THEME parties) was Bollywood. I told Reena that I didn’t have anything Indianesque to wear, so asked what should I do. She flat out told me to wear cotton pants and throw a towel on my head. I laughed and thought, “was this girl fer real? Cause trust me, I have no qualms walking around town with a towel on my head - but will that be offensive?” I opted to wear my bohemian shirt and linen pants, and that was as Bollywood I was going to get. I attended the party with my mate Geramae and we had a great time. Ironically enough, all the Indian guys at the party donned a pair of jeans and a dress shirt. All the rest of us blokes came in our lame attempt to look Bollywood! Pretty funny.

The next day, the hungover Reena sms’d me and asked if I wanted to meet her and her mate Nic for lunch. I agreed and this my friends, was the beginning of a great day.

We met at the local pub where we sat in the warm spring sun and sipped on a couple of lemons, lime and bitters (a refreshing Aussie non alcoholic drink - yes, there are non aloholic drinks here!) and we munched on $10 steaks. As we quenched our thirsts and satisfied our stomachs, we sat there without a care in the world - without any regard for time or space. It was great. We all had nothing to do, no items on our agendas, no items to cross off on our “things to do” list, it was easy.

We sat, we talked, we laughed, we shared stories. I sat there talking freely, without any angst, without any prejudice, giving of myself to these strangers - really. I mean, I only knew Reena for a total of what - 6 hours at best?! And Nic I had just met that day.

We ended up moving the conversation and company to Darling Harbour where we decided that we were going to read our books in the park. We grabbed a cup of coffee, or tea in my case seeing as how I now no longer drink coffee, and sat there under the same spring sun that we first met under. However, our plan in wanting to spend the afternoon reading became an impossible feat. WE WERE TOO BUSY TALKING ALL THE TIME!

Here’s the deal:

Reena - is taking off to go to India to work with tigers. How cool is that hey?! She is going to travel to various Indian tiger reserves where she will volunteer her time for the upbringing of endangered tigers. Whilst her heart yearns for the betterment of an endangered animal, I sat there listening to her with a guilty conscience. I hate cats. Is that bad? I was chased by a cat when I was a young lad and hated the fact that cats were so god damn tempermental and had such sharp claws that could claw my eyes out. Didn’t like them then, don’t really like them now - but I do have to give props to Reena though. She is doing the world some good and God bless her for that, but in the event that she fails - hey, I won’t be too sad. Ha ha!

Nic - a soulful man with an interesting parallel life story to mine. He has great insight on things and is a spiritual man. He is the “been there and done that” type of guy who retrospectively looks back at life and smiles. I reckon I have a lot to learn from Nic. Without even knowing it, he has already given me great advice just from what he says about his own life. He too is a travelling man like me and is in fact heading out to India and England in the new year. I love what he has to say about India. He says, “India is one of those places that sucks you in and then spits you out when its done with you.” It’s all a part of his love/hate relationship with India. He goes there to these holy places where he meditates. I haven’t learned anything yet about the art of meditating. I reckon it’s because I have the attention span of a - hey look - a butterfly!

It was a great day indeed. We sat there until the cool wind and the dusk sky told us it was time to go home. We threw on our jumpers and parted our separate ways. I miss my friends back in Canada. I wish they could come out here, if even for a day - just to sit out in the park with me and talk.

Another summer day
Has come and gone away
In Paris and Rome
But I wanna go home
Mmmmmmmm

Maybe surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel all alone
I just wanna go home
Oh, I miss you, you know
- Michael Buble, Home

Is this home?
Is this where I should learn to be happy?
Never dreamed
That a home could be dark and cold
I was told
Ev’ry day in my childhood:
Even when you grow old
Home should be where the heart is
Never where words so true!
My heart’s far, far away
Home is too
- Belle, Home

Well I’m going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I’m not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don’t regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old,
So I’m going home.
Well I’m going home.
- Chris Daughtry, Home

…. for a vist though.

November 23rd for 3 weeks.

I will see you all then. Whoo hoo!

you found out that you had 1 month left in Australia? That you knew that you were forced to leave Australia at the end of November because you weren’t allowed to stay in the country any longer. What would you do?

Things I still have to do in this country:

1. Go to Western Australia, simply known as “WA” - and travel the west coast.
2. Play with the kangaroos on Kangaroo Island in Adelaide.
3. Snorkel and scuba dive some more.
4. Hire a car and drive up through the heart of the country - from Adelaide to Alice Springs, and pick up Swedish backpackers named Inga and Helena. Sweet as.
5. Visit the sacred land of Ulurru, but I promise not to climb it.
6. Go back to Melbourne and visit my new found family.
7. Go to Perth and Darwin - they are touted as the new Melbourne and Sydney of Australia now.
8. Learn how to kite surf. Just cause I did so well in my attempt at regular surfing. (In case you missed it, there was a hint of sarcasm in that sentence)
9. Audition for Australian Idol. Auditions begin early 2008. Fingers crossed!
10. Go back to 1770, cause it’s the best damn place in this country.

What would you do if you found out that you had 1 month left in Australia? What would you do if you knew you had to leave in November? What would you do if you couldn’t do the things you still wanted to do in Australia?

I wouldn’t know.

I just found out today that my visa sponsorship was approved.

Sweet as.

G’day, g’day…. and how you goin’?

Can you believe that it has been 10 months since I left Canada and entered paradise? I sure as hell can’t. Time really does fly when you have fun hey.

So? What has happened since I stepped in dog shit? Well, I am glad that you asked.

I was feeling like shit.

I wasn’t feeling Australia anymore. I wasn’t sure if I wanted sponsorship. I didn’t know if I liked work. I didn’t even know if work liked me for that matter. I had no one to talk to about this in Sydney. I didn’t have Chua (my old flatty) or Michelle (my previous flatty) or Sue (my travelling mate) to talk to. It was just shit. I reckon I was probably feeling a combination of many things. One, I was no longer travelling. I was working. Ugh. (I am not asking for sympathy here - but you know what I mean… when you come back from holidays, the last thing you want to do, is come back to work!) And secondly I think for the first time in 10 months, I felt… dare I say it?… I felt

HOME SICK.

I missed my mom, I missed my dad, I missed my sister, I missed my dog, I missed my friends, I missed my family. I even missed the weather. Actually, who am I kidding?! I would miss chicken pox before I miss the cold weather in Canada! Ha!

So, needless to say, I was in a bit of a quandary. To put it simply - I was in a rut. Then something happened on Facebook, that would change everything. I got a message from two mates. One from one of my brother’s best mates - Elliott. And the other from Eileen and Donald Presto - cousins. (Well, not really, but it’s heaps easy to say that they are my cousins as opposed to actually explaining HOW I really know them!) Both messages were the same:

Dear Mark, I am coming to Sydney. Want to meet?

My answer was a resounding - HELL YA! And like that - poof - my depression became a thing of the past. Mark was back in the game.

My cousin Venette and I, when we were living in Vancouver, prided ourselves on the tours that we gave to our guests when visiting us. I was going to continue that legacy here in Sydney. I was going to make Venette proud. So, as soon as I found about my future guests, I put together a little something something so that by the time Elliott, Eileen and Donald came to Sydney, I would blow them away with the complete sights and sounds of this beautiful city.

The new pictures in my album should attest to that. They are gone now, but, having them here for that short period of time meant a lot to me. Being away from home for this long is hard, but seeing familiar faces here in Oz, is worth it all.

To my friends and family back home… I miss you heaps. Now stop being cheap buggers and pay the two grand to get your asses down here to see my depressed, sorry arse.

I stepped in dog shit today.

Me.

Dog shit.

Can someone tell me how a grown up, 31 year old man allows himself to step in dog shit? I mean, I had no reason to not avoid it. I still have my eyesight. I was looking ahead and not looking elsewhere. I didn’t have my iPod, so I had all my senses in tact while walking - yet, I still managed to step in dog shit. Unbelievable.

How can we live in a world where people don’t pick up dog shit? That’s just not right. If I weren’t so Canadian, I would be wreaking some serious havoc, let me tell you. I’d swear a couple of times and then apologize to some random passerby of my lewd and crude behaviour.

So needless to say, the ride home on the train raised a lot of eyebrows, as everyone’s olfactories were sniffing out the culprit. I felt like shouting out, “It was me! It was me! Shit! What? What do you want from me?! I am sorry!” But I didn’t. Instead, I stuck my head in the newspaper that doubled as my emotional shield of shame.

31 years old people… 31 years old and I still step in dog shit.

See? I can still manage to live in PARADISE, but still have shitty days.

Oh, the reason for this blog entry - There are new photos posted of my new flatties!! Finally, you will be able to meet Chua - my first flatty. And my current flatties, Marcus and Cindy.

Excuse me while I wipe the shit off my shoes.