I’m hoping one day to visit
~~Chick Down Under
Oh, HELLYEAH!!!! You know that saying, “in every port”? Seemed like everywhere we stopped, people were happy to see us! We danced in the local bars, drank ‘til we puked, had a jolly nice time! On the nights we weren’t in port, the boat came fully stocked, and the captain and I got rat arsed and played chess, and I lost, so I had to do all the dishes, and did you know there wasn’t one single pair of rubber gloves on that whole fu—
Oh. You mean, did we see any WILD LIFE?
Uhm. . . yeah. We did.
At the camp we visited, my cousin Bast took me out behind the buildings to see some polar bear tracks. Couldn’t find the polar bear, though. It’s bloody amazing how those things are so big, but they can hide behind the smallest snowdrifts! All of a sudden the tracks just ended, like somebody’d swept them away with a broom or something. Bast said it was lucky for me that polar bears prefer fat like on seals, ‘cause those tracks ended right near the door to the hut I was staying in!
I’m not sure why he was laughing about that.
We got to see a colony of King Penguins. The mum and dad birds are about crotch high, stonkin’ huge, man! Bast wouldn’t let me go over and pet them, though. He said he promised my mum he’d look after the family jewels, I dunno why. They seemed really friendly. We did get to see the little baby penguins— they’re so CUTE!!! Did you know the dad keeps the egg in a pouch while the mum goes off to grab some nosh? I thought, that’s cool, bit of a reverse on the old diamond geezer trick, Mum bringing home the bacon while Dad watches the chicks, until Bast said the mum’s stay gone for THREE WEEKS. THREE WEEKS!!!! I can’t go without a latte for three days, how the hell do they make it THREE WEEKS??? I’d be positively peckish.
There were some Macaroni penguins too. Talk about having a bad hair day— what the hell is that orange thing on their head? I nicked some noodles from the casserole pan after lunch, but they wouldn’t eat it. I even left lots of cheese on the top! I’m not sure where they get macaroni out in the snow like that anyway. They were good and fat, so I don’t suppose they were starving.
I have to say that the worst part about the trip was that it was so bloody damned cold. I froze my fuckin’ arse off, and I don’t have much arse to begin with. I had to sleep with my scarf and my gloves and my Mad Bomber hunting cap on a couple of nights. Bast was right, though. It’s a LOT warmer under the covers if you take your clothes off first. He’s got bloody amazing body heat.
Make sure you take somebody hot with you. You’ll need ‘em.