THE RETARDED TOURIST ----- Australia part 2 of 3

     When I told my ex Grant that I was traveling to Australia he immediately asked if I was going to The Great Barrier Reef. He assumed I was planning on it because, as I realized after ten other people asked me the same question, a person would have to be retarded to fly half way around the world and not see the world's biggest and most beautiful coral reef. Even the woman from Bank of America who I spoke with over the phone to verify I would be using my debit in Australia told me she snorkeled in the Great Barrier Reef and that it was 'must-do for anyone who lives on this planet'. Grant couldn't believe I was not going to try to take in as much of Australia's natural beauty as possible, something he and his boyfriend Mark, being consummate outdoors men, would naturally do.
     Even in the most urban environments, Grant and Mark search for pockets of natural beauty.When they went to New York last year they rented bicycles and for two weeks rode around every part of the city, even on the bridges. In 14 days Grant learned more about New York than I ever did in the 35 years I lived there. No doubt they would do the same Down Under, driving and pedaling and rowing and climbing and backpacking and swimming all over  Australia. This rugged country is the perfect place for people with adventurous spirits like them, where staying inside on a vacation is a punishment. 
   I felt as if I had already failed as a tourist even before my plane landed in Sydney. In all honesty, I am embarrassed of my apathy about all the outdoor sight-seeing that is such an integral part of visiting Australia.  Have I gone half way around the world just to see Sydney's gay version of Mardi Gras?  Michael V better take some of the blame for this. Did he mention the Great Barrier Reef to me one time? No, the closest thing he's mentioned is the Great Bare-ass Briefs he bought for an Underwear Party.
    The first thing I did after unpacking my suitcase at Michael's was to ask him what bus or ferry I would take to get to The Great Barrier Reef. " Maybe I could go to it for an afternoon while you're at work."
   "Have you even looked at a map of Australia before coming here? It might be an island but it's also a continent. You just can't pop! over to the Great Barrier Reef, he explained, gesturing his arms like Endora. " It's four hours away and takes two planes to get there. It's like being in New York and saying 'I think I'll drop by Disneyworld'."
    "Really?" I said almost joyfully. " That means at this point even if I wanted to go, it would be almost impossible to plan out everything it would take to get there. I would say that falls under the category of circumstances out of my control. Now I have the perfect excuse for not seeing it."  I fell back onto his bed and let out a big sigh of relief. "You won't believe how many people made me promise to see it before I left here. Of course no one seemed to care if I get eaten by a Great White after I cut myself on the coral. I haven't felt such pressure to do outdoors activity since I was ten in sleep-away camp when they forced me to play baseball."
    " If you want to impress everyone with your athleticism you can try the Sydney Harbor Bridge climb. It's the new thing to do. But let's get one thing clear right now--if you fall into the harbor you're staying there. It will be a burial at sea. I'll tell everyone in San Fran that's how you wanted it," he nodded somberly with  a mournful face and his hand on his chest.
    " Climbing a bridge actually sounds like something I would enjoy."
  " Of course you would, darling. All apes love to climb. That reminds me," he added, pointing a shoe tree at me. " We need bananas for breakfast. We're going to need some healthy food for our recovery after the Harbor Dance tonight."
       The bananas we bought turned out to be the only nourishment, along with yogurt and Gatorade, that I put into my body for an entire day after the Harbor Dance. I was pretty wiped-out for the next day also, suffering from jet lag plus Gay Circuit Party lag
     which can be more exhausting than a 14 hour airplane flight.
    By Tuesday though,  I was ready to face Sydney again. The first thing I did was, of course, go to the gym that Michael bought me a week's membership. Going to the gym on your vacation might seem like a strange concept to some people but it is something I've always done. It's essentially going to a completely different place but doing exactly the same thing, only around people with an accent.
   It has always been my way of rebooting myself emotionally and to get things moving again. It's also something I do that is highly active and good for my body. For myself, I define activity in terms of what I do indoors, not what I do out of the gym. Doing cardio on a machine with my headphones as I'm looking out the window is my way of engaging with the environment. The closest thing to outdoor activity I get is walking stroke, spinal and brain injured patients around the hospital sidewalks during the community reintegration part of their rehab program. Taking into account the amount of time I do spend exercising inside, you can even say I'm much more active than most people. The only difference is that my activity doesn't involve fresh air or catching any kind of ball. The only thing I can catch is the occasional STD from someone I meet at the gym.
   With all of this said, I still knew I had to start doing something outdoorsy that Australia was known for. I kept hearing Grant's voice repeating 'Great Barrier Reef, Great Barrier Reef...' over and over in my head. If I wasn't going to swim in the reef at least I would climb a bridge. But then I found out it cost three hundred dollars and took a whole day of training, and according to Michael's newly ex-boyfriend, Lee, who did it, the actual climb was painfully slow and boring because of out of shape people in the climbing group he got stuck with, and that it needed to be booked weeks in advance, especially right before Mardi Gras.  
  With my bridge plan thwarted, I was back to square one on my desperate search to prove that my trip to Australia was not just one big gay Circuit Party event. I was determined to swim in or hike to or climb up something in Sydney. So far, the only thing that comes close is helping my dear friends Ron T and Michael P who live here carry an old washing machine down their warm staircase to the sidewalk and carry up a new one. At least I can say I was somewhere that made me sweat and take my shirt off with Australians besides a dance floor.