We finally touched down at Sunshine Coast Airport after our dangerous mission, exhausted but relieved. I braced myself for the next dilemma. Finding our accommodation. I may have mentioned that I cannot read maps.
First of all we had to pick up our car, which wasn't located at the airport. We called and they arranged to pick us up. Since there were five of us I had to wait while Micky Blue Eyes took the boys back to their office to organise the paperwork.
Pacing backwards and forwards in the intense sun, I briefly toyed with the absurd notion of heading back into the airport to jump on the next flight to Melbourne to surprise an online friend. I could deal with the resulting divorce later. Didn't do it, dammit. For I was about to become more stressed. I do not fear flying. I do fear maps. With good reason.
We circled around various areas in search of our accommodation, bewildered. It was supposed to be on the Esplanade. Should be simple, right? Wrong. There appeared to be more than one Esplanade. We were on the wrong one. Which was fortunate because it was looking a bit dodgy. Eventually we found the place only to be directed to an even more dodgy car park underneath the apartments with an extremely tight narrow space. We all waited with bated breath as Mick backed in. Being a hire car, we were very cautious about procuring even the slightest scratch.
The next morning I staggered out of bed feeling like a zombie and saw all of these
demented fit, energetic people jogging up and down the esplanade. Bugger that. These bogans were headed for the beach however. At which point, I discovered I'd forgotten to pack my bikini. Possibly due to the fact that I've never owned one in my life ever. Fortunately, as I'd forgotten to have the lipo-suction, boob lift, tummy tuck, spay tan, waxing extravaganza which would be required for me to be seen dead in one. So I settled for the daily routine of dousing myself in approximately 675 layers of 30 plus sunblock, putting on boardies and a t-shirt and being done with it.
Day two meant a trip to Australia Zoo. A most entertaining day out if you enjoy becoming bankrupt (crikey, it's expensive) while melting in excruciating heat that would make the 7th circle of hell seem like the arctic. You know, with a few animals thrown in for good measure. Leaving there, we travelled further afield to a dairy farm. There were quite a ridiculous number of cows. We just missed the actual tour which would have included being able to milk the bovine beasts. This meant we could just skip to the best part. Tasting. Ice cream. Yum!
Another outing involved a cruise on the canal gawking at the multi-million dollar mansions that most likely feature walk in closets the size of our entire bogan box. One was the three million dollar home purchased by Steve and Terri Irwin, which Terri now apparently just uses as a holiday home. Reportedly Russell Crowe had recently been staying there. This may explain why, when, a few days later we dropped into a bakery for a cakie fix, we discovered Russell Crowe had been there just the week before.
As we drifted past we also saw the boat which Steve Irwin supposedly died on, The Croc One, parked outside the mansion. Frankly, at this point I couldn't be bothered moving to take a photo and neither could Mr11 apparently. He managed to get this half arsed shot as we sailed past. Seriously I do not know where that child gets his lazy tendencies from. Ahem.
Our next destination was Hervey Bay where we were staying at a place called The Coconut Palms. A more appropriate name would have been The Inconvenient Poles. There were poles a plenty. You were meant to park in between them. Just when you thought you'd spotted every pole there was yet another pole seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Yep, you guessed it. The inevitable happened. Mick hit a pole when reversing into our spot. Luckily he'd taken insurance so we were covered but it was still a proverbial pain the posterior.
We spent most of the time in Hervey Bay visiting Mick's sister. I celebrated my birthday there. 42 was just another number and not the enlightening experience I had hoped. Sigh. My sister-in-law was kind enough to give me a gift of various goodies, including chocolates, mascara, sun block and an intensive anti-wrinkle moisturiser. But I choose not to take offence at the latter. She just gave them to me because she works in a pharmacy, so she gets her hands on this stuff easily, right?
Leaving Hervey Bay, we headed back to Coolum. The most exciting thing that happened there was that Micky Blue Eyes took the boys to Brisbane to see a soccer game at Suncorp Stadium, so consequently I had some quiet time. Yes, that
is exciting. Shut up. On the last day there we went for a drive to Eumundi. Spotting a bakery/cafe, we decided coffee and cakies would be most welcome and pulled up in front of the establishment. At which point, a woman promptly appeared and shut the doors to close up, glaring at us she did so, as if appalled at the idea of any bogan customers. Hmph. I should have stomped up to her huffily a la Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman exclaiming "You just shut your door on us! Big mistake, HUGE mistake, you just missed out on business from the Cakie Queen! You would have at least trippled your daily profits! And we went to the same bakery as RUSSELL CROWE, so yours isn't even good enough for us!! So ner!"
Driving on we ended up at Noosa Heads, where obviously we were not about to attempt to enter any of the posh restaurants lining the street, and being glared at yet again like the pathetic (but hungry) bogans we were (or are). Instead we ended up in a deserted food court where the only shop open was a kebab place so we feasted on kebabs and hot chips. Classy. Hunger pangs satisfied, we headed to the beach. We sat down while the boys frolicked on the sand. It was a most beautiful scene, with the sun beginning to set lazily over the ocean, but I am not very good at descriptions (or photography) so you'll just have to imagine it.
There were many people and sand castles dotting the beach, including a most impressive one, resembling an Indian Temple. Obviously it had been painstakingly created by some nearby Indian men. As we sat admiring it, Mr4 barrelled towards it. Cringing, I tensed as the inevitable happened before I could move to stop him and he pounced on it, destroying it immediately. The Indian men looked on, but luckily did not comment. It was a good time to leave.
Twenty four hours later, we were back in Boganville where we belong. Until another bogan holiday.
Linking up with
The Lounge which is being hosted this week by Rachel from
The Very Inappropriate Blog.
Do you think that woman in the bakery/cafe was a snooty bitch, or do you run for cover when you see bogans coming too?
