Tag Archives: ferry

Hakuna Matata! Welcome to Tanzania!

After learning I was heading to Dar es Salaam, my good friend (and convicted abuser of homeless people) Scott called me from his presidential suite inside Parklea Prison.
“Hey bro, you go to Tanzania?” he asked, whilst whitling a shiv from a toothbrush. “You must meet my cousin, Sinbad. He look just like me. He also have massive penis, like me. He show you around. He meet you at airport.
“Also, if you can smuggle some rhinoceros scrotum back to Australia for me, I pay you big dollar. I must go now, my cellmate Big Joe has already taken he pants off.”

With a hint of jealousy at the robustness of Scott’s locked-up sex life (if not the partners), I flew off to Dar es Salaam for the next chapter in the World Tour of Africa. Scott had told me his cousin looked just like him, but he’s full of shit, so after making it through customs (an effort in itself) I looked for someone who was the opposite of him. A tall, handsome, intelligent-looking man who appeared to have a baseball bat stuffed down his trousers was an immediate suspect, and he soon introduced himself as Sinbad.

“Hakuna matata, my friend,” Sinbad smoothly said, taking my hand and leading me out of the airport and into the steamy night. “My cousin Scott is very bad man. When he live in Tanzania, he rob people, beat up old lady. He even put a baboons up his anus. You can believe this?”
I told him that yes, I could believe this. In fact, I’ve seen Scott do similar things with bilbies.

“This man Scott, he bring great shame to my family, with his masturbating in public and suggestive dancing in front of schools. He also steal my identity in order to run for president of Tanzania. He did not win, but still has a great deal of public support. It is a curse on me that we look so similar.”

I took a closer look at Sinbad as he unlocked his car, and decided it would be possible to confuse him with Scott… if it was dark, you only had one eye, and had been drinking metho since sunrise.

Sinbad took me straight to his favourite bar, a swinging spot in a converted ballroom that was full of heartbreakingly gorgeous African women. I wanted to get out on the dancefloor and wow them with my sick moves, but Sinbad wouldn’t let go of my hand. Every time I tried to leave he held it tighter, and every time an ebony goddess smiled at me he gave me a glare. It was weird. It was also uncomfortable when he escorted me to the toilet and didn’t let me go the whole time.

Finally Sinbad cracked the shits at all the attention I was getting from the ladies and demanded we leave. I told him to head off so that I could get jiggy with a dark-skinned darl, and that’s when he snapped.
“No! I will not stand for this anymore! I try to love you and all you do is drink, look at lady and talk about how disappointing Canberra Raider are this season. My cousin Scott say you are best gay in Australia and perfect boyfriend for me, but you are not. This is what you walk away from, my friend.”
And with that, he dropped his trousers and smacked his cock on the ground – without crouching.

Exploring Dar was a big shock after being in Zimbabwe, Zambia and Malawi, because it’s a proper city. There are tall buildings, heaps of cars, and people everywhere. I’m not used to crowds after spending time in comparatively deserted places like Livingstone and Lilongwe, and I found it a bit oppressive. It’s totally different from the other places I’ve been in Africa and definitely feels more Asian or middle eastern than anything else. With mosques, Indians and little blokes in dresses, it felt like Dubai’s old town all over again.

I only spent a few hours exploring Dar, and for me that was enough. There’s plenty to see, but it’s a bit too hot and crowded, so I decided to head to Zanzibar. I was just about to climb aboard the ferry to the island when I heard a familiar voice calling out to me, and looked around to see a tall black man cutting through the crowd with a huge bouquet of roses in his hands and tears in his eyes. Looks like this story is to be continued…

A ferry unusual evening


Japan isn’t a big country, but you’d be bloody tired if you tried to walk from one end to the other. You’d probably also get attacked by wolves and Godzillas, so it’s best to make the most of The Nippon’s world-class public transportation network. Everybody knows about the bullet trains, but they’re bloody expensive, so when I needed to get from Miyazaki to Kobe, I decided to go by overnight ferry. It was an eventful evening.

The ferry is actually a pretty fun way to travel between the islands of Kyushu and Honshu. When I stepped onboard the massive ship, I was pointed towards my sleeping quarters, which was a big open room with hundreds of tiny mattresses on the floor, somw occupied by sleepy Japanese people. It’s a bit like having a giant slumber party, but instead of Fantales and pillow fights there’s sushi and respectful quietness.

My luxurious accommodation for the night

There was plenty of space so I chose a mattress in the corner and settled in. More Japs dawdled in, and I soon realised they had absolutely no interest in spending the night near me. They’d walk over to my side of the room, see there was a white dude, and then cram into a spot on the opposite side. Alright, maybe the fact I haven’t washed my clothes in three weeks had something to do with it, but I’m claiming racism.

After watching the ship depart the port, I checked out th eonboard services. It was what you’d expect; pachinko machines, some video game cabinets, and a hot chip vending machine. That’s right, a HOT FUCKIN’ CHIP VENDING MACHINE. The Japs really do have everything. For the record, the chips tasted like chicken scrotums.

Works better than Metamucil

When I returned, a very unusual man was sitting cross-legged on the mattress next to mine, watching me with hopeful eyes. I did my best to ignore him and plonked myself down, but the unusual man just turned to me with a smile.
“I’m Casper Yamamoto, pleased to meet you,” he nodded. “We’re going to be sleeping buddies.” With that, he gave me a huge hug and then sat back and started smiling at me again. He wasn’t even blinking, just sitting there looking happy.

“Look, Casper, mate. I don’t need a sleeping buddy, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be you. I’d go for one of those Japanese sheilas with the big tits, not someone who’s fat and balding and most likely an advocate for the legalisation  of rape. No offence.”

Casper the friendly Asian

Casper looked crushed,then immediately perked up. “Me no speaky Engleeee,” he exclaimed in an exaggerated accent, then cuddled me again. I grabbed my bag and headed to the other side if the room, but the locals started yelling at me and throwing their slippers, demanding that the white devil stay away from them. Inslunk back to my corner and lay down next to Casper, who just sat there, smiling and not blinking.

I passed out watching TV and woke up a few hours with Casper clinging to me from behind. His grip around my body was as firm as a vice, and it was abundantly clear that he had an erection. I was disgusted and tried to get away, but he wouldn’t let go, saying, “Cuddle buddies… CUDDLE BUDDIIIIIIEEEESSS! Now wrestling buddies. WRESTLING BUUUUUDDDDIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEESSSSSSS!” as we rolled around on the floor. The commotion woke up the sleeping Japs, who became enraged, hurling empty cups of noodles and chopsticks at us and spitting all over the place. Still, Casper wouldn’t let go.

Me in happier times (after spilling a beer on my shirt)

I’m not a violent person but I don’t enjoy being molested, so I started throwing elbows behind me to take down the hug-crazed psychopath. I felt one blow connect, then another, and after a third Casper finally loosened his grip and fell limply to the carpet. The crowd gasped as one, stepping back from Casper’s broken body.

I looked down at Casper, covered in blood and semen, and saw not a monster but a lonely man who wasn’t hugged enough as a child. I saw weakness and vulnerability, a symbol of society’s failures. The crowd wept and supported me as Casper was carried off into the night, and I decided to catch the fucking train from now on.

Peace returns to the strange Asian sleeping room

Getting drunk with K.D. Langkawi


I made it through the doors of a taxi and slammed the door just in time to stop one of the pervs grabbing me. I told the driver to get me the fuck out of there, and he burnt out of the car park and towards Penang’s ferry terminal. Shit, I’d rather spend three years at Mount Penang Juvenile Detention Centre, than another night at the Penang Hilton.

I barely made it to the boat in time, and when I climbed on it was crawling with stroppy Indian blokes and reverse-Ku Klux Klanners. Y’know, people with black sheets on their heads, rather than white ones. Seriously, there were babes in burqas everywhere, and it made me quite aroused. But it also raised questions, such as, how would a bloke know that that chick in a burqa is his? What if a bloke was at the pub and his mate said, ““Dude, I saw your missus getting fingered by some fella out the back of the shops the other day.”” How would you know it was the same girl? It’s fucked. When I’m out at the shops with a girl, I’ll give her a sly goose when she’s not looking, so it’d be shit if every girl was wearing a stupid black sheet on her head ‘cos I’d get the wrong one.

That’s my boat on the right

I thought about that for around seven minutes, then fell asleep and woke up as we were getting into Langkawi. I pranced into a taxi with a little Indian bloke whose name was Sam, – yes, SAM,– and a few minutes later I was at my lovely little resort in Tengah Beach, the Sunset Beach Resort. When I checked in the woman put a flower behind my ear, which I thought was a bit gay, and when I walked off it fell to he ground and I stepped on it, and I believe she was emotionally crushed. Ah well, when you disappoint as many women as I do, you stop caring. My room was great,– surrounded by trees, 15 metres from the beach and quite spacious inside. It was nice to have accommodation that didn’t look like it doubled as a public toilet.! I unloaded my stuff and, after a longing look at the gorgeous beach,, headed back to the main road for a much-needed bite to eat.

It’s not the worst place I’ve ever been to

And what a main road it was. Yeah, it was about about as busy as Julia Gillard’s vadge while Tim’s off at the mardi gras. I blindly wandered into a curry house by the side of the road, and that’s where I met Sonjay.

Sonjay was a fat little Indian bloke with a moustache the size of Papua New Guinea and an award-winning combover, and he couldn’t do enough to make me happy. A drink immediately arrived at my table, a small Indian boy came to give me a foot rub (which I found very uncomfortable) and then Sonjay sat there nodding and smiling while I ordered my food –- a prawn tikka with garlic naan.

Sonjay really is a prawn star

Five minutes later the food turned up and bloody hell, Sonjay delivered! The prawns were fresh and juicy, the sauce was deliciously spicy and old mate even brought out some fruit juice that tasted like it’d been squeezed from the arse of an angel.

I paid for the meal – $10 or so in total! – and got up to waddle out, when Sonjay pulled me in for a cuddle that lasted just a little bit too long. He was also breathing a bit too heavily and it felt like he had an erection, but I ignored that and got out of there, promising to come back.

I swear it’s my first one!

Right, beach time, and wasn’t it a corker! My resort had a little stretch of private beach that was lined with palm trees, with a bunch of sun lounges to lie on, but that wasn’t the best thing. When I rolled up with a plastic bag full of cheep-as-shit beers and a packet of pawn crackers, a bunch of sexy German backpackers were already lying out there, and they must’ve left their lederhosen back at their rooms.

I settled down for a read, a drink and a perve and bloody hell, didn’t those Germans like me! Not really, as it turned out. Within the first 30 seconds, one of them started chucking up on the sand, and another one stumbled over coconut and passed out on the grass, upside down. They were drunk or hungover or drugged out or something, and a few minutes later two big, burly blokes stormed over and picked up all four of the sausage-guzzlers– and carted them off. I assume they got raped.

Don’t land on a fence, mate!

With that distraction out of the way, I turned my attention to a much-needed swim (I hadn’t showered in days) and the important task of plowing through eight beers. I had all that done by sundown (which was grouse – just check out the pictures), then stumbled up to the bottle shop where I bought a 1L bottle of Absolut for $10, and nearly cried it was so beautiful. I had half of that down my throat by 9:30 when, feeling hungry, I crossed the road to Sonjay’s.

He greeted me with a enormous hug, and this time he let his hands fall to my arse. I pulled away, but he just thought I was playing hard to get. I’m going to have a moustache rash for weeks.

I ordered a butter chicken and cheese naan, and got chatting to Sonjay while the food was getting cooked. I can’t remember what the fuck we talked about because I was shitfaced, but he was a good bloke. We actually danced together for awhile, and he was quite sweet and tender. The meal was amazing, and when I knocked it off he brought out some cigarettes for us to smoke, and I didn’t knock him back.

Auditioning for N’Sync

“”You want to fuck?”” he asked me, and I jumped out of my chair. ““No, you want to fuck Indian girl?”” he continued, and I was intrigued. Apparently Sonjay’s sister was looking for a man, and didn’t really care if it was a long-term deal or just for a few hours. I didn’t have the heart to tell old mate that a few minutes would be generous in regards to me, but agreed to meet his sister.

If an elephant ate another elephant, it would look like Sonjay’s sister. India became a lot less crowded the day she left town, and the people of Langkawi were lucky their island didn’t sink into the sea the day she turned up. She was fucken huge –- about two metres tall and just as wide, with arms that looked like they could carry Australia’s national debt. And she wanted me. Oh, bloody hell, she wanted me! She came at me, making these weird kissing noises and knocking tables and chairs out of the way. I spun around and ran the other way, but Sonjay blocked my escape. I went the other way, and the cook was there with a huge knife and an evil look on his face. I ran backwards and climbed onto a table, and managed to run along and somersault over the curry-monster’s face and race out into the night while Sonjay and the other creatures tried to chase me down.

I ran and ran and ran, until I saw a quiet little bar in the middle of nowhere. I raced up to it and sat down, and the fuckwits chasing me grudgingly turned and walked away, with Sonjay’s sister sounding like a T-Rex as she stomped away.

Hand me another beer, bro

Turns out I was at the Sunbar, which is owned by the people who own the place I was staying in. I ordered a Long Island Ice Tea, then another, then stumbled into the club and got a bunch more drinks. There was a band, I tried to crack onto some chicks and… that’s it. The next thing I knew I was waking up in a hut – a fucking hut! – with a dirt floor and bamboo walls and some weird dudes asleep all around me.

Dunno if I scored with any chicks at the club, but the state I was in would suggest I didn’t. But bloody hell, I was blackout drunk and can’t remember a thing, so let’s just say I fingered a moderately-attractive sheila from Norway and call it evens. Bad day ahead. Hangover in three… two… one.

I originally wrote this on May 9, 2012. I may have been drunk at the time.

So long, Hong Kong (and hello, creepy Malaysian perverts)


After thee days in Hong Kong I was ready to get out of the place, but I had a full day to kill till my flight at 8 o’clock. I slept in, then thought about taking a ferry to the ancient land of Macau, then decided to just catch a ferry to Wan Chai, then was pissed off because it was busy and hot and I had chafing between my legs that made it feel like my balls were going to catch on fire at any minute. I grabbed a beer and wandered aimlessly, ending up at the Happy Valley Racecourse. Which was closed.

I can see the Hong, but where’s the Kong?

Luckily, there was a bus stop advertising trips to Aberdeen, which was the only major place from Shenmue II that I hadn’t visited. It’s funny, I saw every place backwards – in the game, Ryo goes to Aberdeen, then Wan Chai, Kowloon and Guilin, and I did it the wrong way. Still, that’s better than wearing my shirt the wrong way or something. I remember my father did that one day, and even though I told him about it he still went to the shops with his bloody shirt on backwards. He’s a lot older now, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he now goes along to Bi-Lo without any pants on or something. Still, at Green Point Bi-Lo that would probably make him most fashionable person there.

Aberdeen there, Aberdeen that

Aberdeen was a nice place, relatively quiet and with a pleasant harbour to walk along. There were heaps of those junk boats floating around, some pretty sailing ships, and all up it made for a pleasant way to spend a day. And then my Hong Kong adventure was over, and it was time to move on to my next port of call – Malaysia!

Well, it sure beats swimming

The plane to Penang was almost empty, but a young Chinese couple still had to sit next to me the whole way. I was annoyed at first, but then I noticed they were very nervous, like they had drugs stuffed up their blurters or something. The the girl went off to the toilet, and the bloke headed off a minute or two later, trying (and failing) to act cool. The cheeky bastards were trying to join the Mile High Club (incidentally, both me and my brother are members of the Metre High Club, which simply involves masturbating on the train from Central to Gosford. Uh, we didn’t do it together).

Yay! A plane!

Anyway, a couple of minutes after old mate’s tottered off, I hear a scream from the back of the plane, and rushed up there with a couple of hosties. I forced the door open, and inside was the Chinese couple, all twisted around each other like they’d been in a car accident. They were screaming like they were being stabbed, and even though I couldn’t understand them it wasn’t hard to work out what had happened – they’d popped in for a root, and doing the dirty in the cramped Air Asia brasco had caused thee fella’s back to lock up, and the girl to get stuck between the sink and the wall. They had to stay that way until we landed an hour later, and some firefighters raced on to save them and probably have a good laugh.

Penang Airport was about as technically advanced as a Down Syndrome person’s lunch, but I raced through it and into a taxi, and was soon burning through late-night Malaysia. It was such a change from China – quiet, with clean air and English words written on buildings everywhere. It really felt like home after being in such a strange place. And then I got to my hotel, and it didn’t feel like home at all.

Palm trees in paradise

I was only using this joint as a flop house for about six hours till I caught a ferry out to the island paradise of Langkawi the next morning, but it was horrendous. When I walked in the front door, two old men were sitting in filthy chairs watching a hardcore porno on a black and white TV, joined by about half a dozen rats. The whole place smelled of rotten cabbage and sweat. Paint peeled from the walls, the carpet was ripped with patched of what looked like dried puke, and a dim corner of the room held what appeared to be a dead prostitute. It was like something out of a horror movie but fuck it, I had to sleep somewhere.

I called out to one of the perverts and he jumped up and walked over to a counter without putting his pants on or taking his eyes away from the TV. He threw a key at me, pointed up the stairs, then went back to jacking off with his mate. I went up the stairs as quickly as I could go.

My room smelt like piss. There were blood stains on the walls, and I’m pretty sure there was a peep hole drilled in the wall of the toilet, so I didn’t use it. I just pissed in the corner, figuring it would only improve the stench in the room.

The grundies on the floor weren’t even mine

I tried to wash my hands in the tap, and something that looked like black tar drizzled out, so I didn’t bother. I slept fully clothed, with a shirt between my head and the pillow, only waking up when someone in another room would scream in either ecstasy or terror. Around four, I woke up with the sensation of something sitting on my chest, and opened my eyes to see the biggest, meanest rat sitting there. I threw it off, and spent the next couple of hours crouched on my bed, kicking at rats, squashing cockroaches, and wondering if it’s possible to catch AIDS just from spending enough time in a horrible room.

When I left the next morning, the perves were still there watching porn, so I chucked a mandarin a one of their heads and ducked out the door… But it was all worth it, because a few hours later I was in Langkawi, and it was beautiful.

Sunrise over Penang – see, it’s not so bad after all!

I originally wrote this on May 8, 2012, which was the day the Earth stood still.