Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Fairfax, VA
Maddie (my Cat), You Waited!!
Well, I made it home two nights ago safe and sound, as Im sure you can tell. . . . . . . . . . . So I guess that about does it for the blog. I assume my stories, since Ive returned, about losing the remote control, really arent worth posting, so Ill just keep them to myself.
Keeping the blog and writing the posts, and reading your all's comments have been some of the best parts of my trip. It has made my trip much more interesting and excited knowing that I got to share it with you all. So truly, I thank whoever took the time to read my blog, and especially anyone who took the time to write a comment or email me about it. It has been a great experience for me and I hope you all, too.
In the next up and coming days, Ill post some photos from the trip that I have been sitting on, but after that the posts will be much less frequent. Ill put about the occasional update as to what I decide to get up to I guess, but that about does it.
So, until my next trip. Adieu!
Well, I made it home two nights ago safe and sound, as Im sure you can tell. . . . . . . . . . . So I guess that about does it for the blog. I assume my stories, since Ive returned, about losing the remote control, really arent worth posting, so Ill just keep them to myself.
Keeping the blog and writing the posts, and reading your all's comments have been some of the best parts of my trip. It has made my trip much more interesting and excited knowing that I got to share it with you all. So truly, I thank whoever took the time to read my blog, and especially anyone who took the time to write a comment or email me about it. It has been a great experience for me and I hope you all, too.
In the next up and coming days, Ill post some photos from the trip that I have been sitting on, but after that the posts will be much less frequent. Ill put about the occasional update as to what I decide to get up to I guess, but that about does it.
So, until my next trip. Adieu!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Portland II
"So Doug, what was your favorite place on the trip? How was it traveling on your own? Do you have any crazy stories? Would you ever go back? How did you pay for this whole thing? How does it feel to be back? What are you going to do next? What are you going to do for work? Are you going to stay in finance? Are you going to stay in Virginia? "
Portland, Oregon was the final destination on my trip. In less then 12 hours, I will board a plane to Washington to DC with tickets I bought 9 months ago in Fremantle. Nine Months Ago. When I bought these tickets, I never actually anticipated having to get on a plane to go home. But, here we are, I am almost home.
On July 6, 2008, I left home. My only object was to go wherever I wanted. I had a backpack, 4 months worth of malaria tablets, visas to Russia, India, and Australia for a 6 -12 month trip. And now 17 months later, I will stroll back into Virginia thus ending Doug Jeffery's excellent adventure.
In total, I have spent 3 weeks in Europe, 5 months in Southeast Asia, 9 months in Australia, 6 weeks in New Zealand, 1 week in Hawaii, and 10 day between Seattle and Portland. I have been to over 15 countries, across 4 continents and have crossed ever longitude there is on a map. This trip has been great. I met tons of different people and have had loads of different experiences that have no doubt shaped who I am.
I have tangled with pimps, bus road through guerrillas, hung out with monks, done visa runs into Malayasia, and shot AKs with the best. WIthout a doubt when I am a 100 year old man, sitting on my hover rocking chair, these will be some of the better days I look back on, if I can remember them. And I count myself lucky to have had them.
I realize that this trip is something that not everyone can do, and know that a lot of things had to fall into place for this trip to have occured, most of which were outside my own control. I had to graduate from College with no debt Thanks Mom & Dad!, get a job that allowed me to save enough money to start off my trip Thanks, Freddie!, be willing to quit that job Later, Freddie!, have no romantic attachments [sad face] , and then seeing that I had no significant responsibilities and some money, been willing to walk away from everything I have ever known to take advantage of the opportunity I saw before me.
So here we are.
I mean how many people do you know who can start a sentence:
"This one time in Russia . . . . "
- or -
"Last time I was in Cambodia . . . . . "
- or -
" Well, my Australian manager at McDonalds use to say. . . . . "
Very few have had this privilege and no doubt I count myself luckily to have experienced it. But times werent all good. A lot of episodes of internal strife and self doubt existed in this trip. There was a lot of my going back and forth as to whether or not this was the right decision and whether or not it was right to give up whatever it is I had. It wasnt easy just setting out and leaving everything and everyone I knew behind.
This as well as many other issues peppered my trip. For instance, at one point, I was in Phenom Penh, Cambodia and was very sick. I didnt tell anyone about, especially my parents, because I knew it would just freak out an already freaked out bunch of people. So that morning, when I woke up shivering in a pool of my own sweat, with a fever, upset stomach, uncontrollable headache, after convulsing all night, and rode to the hospital on the back of a motorbike sure I was going to die in Cambodia from Dengue Fever, I kept it to myself.
But still I pushed on.
And while I accrued storied abroad, things kept moving at home, most of which, I wish I could have been there for. When it comes to sports, I follow only one sport; only one team: the Philadelphia Phillies. For most of my life, I have watched them flounder around in the NL East basement, almost never doing anything worth noting. And even when they got close to doing something worth talking about, they inevitably fell short. Thank you very much, Joe Carter!
But while I was gone, that all changed. The Phillies have only won two World Series in their entire franchise history. Only one of which was during my lifetime . . . . . And I missed it, because of this trip.
While I was gone, Cosmo my dog of 14 years died. Without being overly dramatic, that hit me pretty hard. I was just a month into my trip and had just got into Bangkok, my first stop, my first time in Asia. The streets were crowded, loud, and dirty; culture shock is the term that is thrown around. I had retreated off the streets to regroup and check my email, and found out that he had to be put down. Now, I know this shouldnt be that big of a deal to any grown man, but it was. Anyone, who stepped foot into the Jeffery household in Virginia was no doubt instantly won by Cosmo's oversized beagle bark and poor table manners. He was a very charismatic dog but more importantly a staple of my home. And I lost that part of home, at a moment when I wanted home the most.
Being away from home, means that I have missed some critical family moments, a Thanksgiving, a Christmas, my cousin's graduation, numerous birthdays, and even a medical emergency. When I get home I will never have seen my brother when he was 21 and he will never have seen me when I was 24. I have been in Red Square, more recently then I have been in my own bedroom. And I will have tasted authentic Pad Thai more recently then I have had my grandmother's stuffing. Dont get me wrong Australian beach Christmas's are fun, but if you ask me it isnt Christmas if you arent arguing over a pictionary timer with your family in a cold climate.
Two weeks ago, when I stepped into Hawaii that was my first steps into Obama America.
When I initially left the country, everyone was asking, "So, you are American? What do you think of Bush?"
That changed to "Oh, so who are you going to vote for?"
To: "Oh, so what do you think of Obama?"
I watched the presidential election in an American Embassy surrounded by Vietnamese, a bit surreal. And have been struggling to keep up on American news from the often diluted and jaded tid bits I can, ever since. My how things have changed (a touch of sarcasm).
No doubt after my entire trip, I am excited to go home. I didnt leave because I didnt like the US, or my family or friends. I left because I wanted to see something different and travel a bit before I knew that wasnt going to be a realistic option. So when I say I am excited to go home, being excited doesnt fully express how pumped I am to see my family and friends after so long. But at the same time I am very real about the situation. I know that while I have been away time hasnt stood still. People have not been waiting for me to return in the same spot I have left. Things have been moving forward for everyone. So I cant help but be anxious for my return and as to how, I am going to fit back into the Virginia I left.
"Doug, so was the trip worth it?"
ha, of course. I wouldnt trade a moment of it for anything. I dont second guess my decision to leave or length of time I spent away. But still I worry as to whether or not Ill be able to keep up with the conversation my friend are having when I get back? And as to whether or not I will I be able understand the gossip going on around the table at Thanksgiving? And as to whether or not I will be able to comfortably fall back into a 'typical' routine and kill the travel flight instinct that now grows within me.
"So whats next for Doug?"
[deep breath] To be honest, I have no idea. This is a big part of why I left to start with. My trip was suppose to be a time of soul searching [blah, bablah] . . . . Have I figured out what it is I want to do? No! But I think a big part of my trip was my coming to terms with that and just accepting this.
Do I know what it is I want to do next? No, not really. . . . so tomorrow, I am going to get off the plane, hug my parents, unpack my bag, move back into my parents basement, hang my giant diploma next to my old Cookie monster poster, and just continue to live the dream. The dream that any unemployed, broke person that lives with the parents can live. . . . .
What's next for Doug? I dont know. Things couldnt be more unsure. But one things is for sure. I could use a vacation.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
On Thursday November 19, 2009 at 9:54 pm, Ill touch down in Washington DC. Home Again!
Portland, Oregon was the final destination on my trip. In less then 12 hours, I will board a plane to Washington to DC with tickets I bought 9 months ago in Fremantle. Nine Months Ago. When I bought these tickets, I never actually anticipated having to get on a plane to go home. But, here we are, I am almost home.
On July 6, 2008, I left home. My only object was to go wherever I wanted. I had a backpack, 4 months worth of malaria tablets, visas to Russia, India, and Australia for a 6 -12 month trip. And now 17 months later, I will stroll back into Virginia thus ending Doug Jeffery's excellent adventure.
In total, I have spent 3 weeks in Europe, 5 months in Southeast Asia, 9 months in Australia, 6 weeks in New Zealand, 1 week in Hawaii, and 10 day between Seattle and Portland. I have been to over 15 countries, across 4 continents and have crossed ever longitude there is on a map. This trip has been great. I met tons of different people and have had loads of different experiences that have no doubt shaped who I am.
I have tangled with pimps, bus road through guerrillas, hung out with monks, done visa runs into Malayasia, and shot AKs with the best. WIthout a doubt when I am a 100 year old man, sitting on my hover rocking chair, these will be some of the better days I look back on, if I can remember them. And I count myself lucky to have had them.
I realize that this trip is something that not everyone can do, and know that a lot of things had to fall into place for this trip to have occured, most of which were outside my own control. I had to graduate from College with no debt Thanks Mom & Dad!, get a job that allowed me to save enough money to start off my trip Thanks, Freddie!, be willing to quit that job Later, Freddie!, have no romantic attachments [sad face] , and then seeing that I had no significant responsibilities and some money, been willing to walk away from everything I have ever known to take advantage of the opportunity I saw before me.
So here we are.
I mean how many people do you know who can start a sentence:
"This one time in Russia . . . . "
- or -
"Last time I was in Cambodia . . . . . "
- or -
" Well, my Australian manager at McDonalds use to say. . . . . "
Very few have had this privilege and no doubt I count myself luckily to have experienced it. But times werent all good. A lot of episodes of internal strife and self doubt existed in this trip. There was a lot of my going back and forth as to whether or not this was the right decision and whether or not it was right to give up whatever it is I had. It wasnt easy just setting out and leaving everything and everyone I knew behind.
This as well as many other issues peppered my trip. For instance, at one point, I was in Phenom Penh, Cambodia and was very sick. I didnt tell anyone about, especially my parents, because I knew it would just freak out an already freaked out bunch of people. So that morning, when I woke up shivering in a pool of my own sweat, with a fever, upset stomach, uncontrollable headache, after convulsing all night, and rode to the hospital on the back of a motorbike sure I was going to die in Cambodia from Dengue Fever, I kept it to myself.
But still I pushed on.
And while I accrued storied abroad, things kept moving at home, most of which, I wish I could have been there for. When it comes to sports, I follow only one sport; only one team: the Philadelphia Phillies. For most of my life, I have watched them flounder around in the NL East basement, almost never doing anything worth noting. And even when they got close to doing something worth talking about, they inevitably fell short. Thank you very much, Joe Carter!
But while I was gone, that all changed. The Phillies have only won two World Series in their entire franchise history. Only one of which was during my lifetime . . . . . And I missed it, because of this trip.
While I was gone, Cosmo my dog of 14 years died. Without being overly dramatic, that hit me pretty hard. I was just a month into my trip and had just got into Bangkok, my first stop, my first time in Asia. The streets were crowded, loud, and dirty; culture shock is the term that is thrown around. I had retreated off the streets to regroup and check my email, and found out that he had to be put down. Now, I know this shouldnt be that big of a deal to any grown man, but it was. Anyone, who stepped foot into the Jeffery household in Virginia was no doubt instantly won by Cosmo's oversized beagle bark and poor table manners. He was a very charismatic dog but more importantly a staple of my home. And I lost that part of home, at a moment when I wanted home the most.
Being away from home, means that I have missed some critical family moments, a Thanksgiving, a Christmas, my cousin's graduation, numerous birthdays, and even a medical emergency. When I get home I will never have seen my brother when he was 21 and he will never have seen me when I was 24. I have been in Red Square, more recently then I have been in my own bedroom. And I will have tasted authentic Pad Thai more recently then I have had my grandmother's stuffing. Dont get me wrong Australian beach Christmas's are fun, but if you ask me it isnt Christmas if you arent arguing over a pictionary timer with your family in a cold climate.
Two weeks ago, when I stepped into Hawaii that was my first steps into Obama America.
When I initially left the country, everyone was asking, "So, you are American? What do you think of Bush?"
That changed to "Oh, so who are you going to vote for?"
To: "Oh, so what do you think of Obama?"
I watched the presidential election in an American Embassy surrounded by Vietnamese, a bit surreal. And have been struggling to keep up on American news from the often diluted and jaded tid bits I can, ever since. My how things have changed (a touch of sarcasm).
No doubt after my entire trip, I am excited to go home. I didnt leave because I didnt like the US, or my family or friends. I left because I wanted to see something different and travel a bit before I knew that wasnt going to be a realistic option. So when I say I am excited to go home, being excited doesnt fully express how pumped I am to see my family and friends after so long. But at the same time I am very real about the situation. I know that while I have been away time hasnt stood still. People have not been waiting for me to return in the same spot I have left. Things have been moving forward for everyone. So I cant help but be anxious for my return and as to how, I am going to fit back into the Virginia I left.
"Doug, so was the trip worth it?"
ha, of course. I wouldnt trade a moment of it for anything. I dont second guess my decision to leave or length of time I spent away. But still I worry as to whether or not Ill be able to keep up with the conversation my friend are having when I get back? And as to whether or not I will I be able understand the gossip going on around the table at Thanksgiving? And as to whether or not I will be able to comfortably fall back into a 'typical' routine and kill the travel flight instinct that now grows within me.
"So whats next for Doug?"
[deep breath] To be honest, I have no idea. This is a big part of why I left to start with. My trip was suppose to be a time of soul searching [blah, bablah] . . . . Have I figured out what it is I want to do? No! But I think a big part of my trip was my coming to terms with that and just accepting this.
Do I know what it is I want to do next? No, not really. . . . so tomorrow, I am going to get off the plane, hug my parents, unpack my bag, move back into my parents basement, hang my giant diploma next to my old Cookie monster poster, and just continue to live the dream. The dream that any unemployed, broke person that lives with the parents can live. . . . .
What's next for Doug? I dont know. Things couldnt be more unsure. But one things is for sure. I could use a vacation.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
On Thursday November 19, 2009 at 9:54 pm, Ill touch down in Washington DC. Home Again!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Portland, OR
I hereby sentence you to 8 hours of day-time television. Noooooo!
Molli and Eric, my longtime friends, have been gracious enough to host me for the the last week of my trip. They have given me the run of the house while they are at work. The last few weeks have been pretty mental, and sleep has been well below par. So I have been spending most of late yesterday and the start of today guarding the couch.
The plan when I got home was to just veg out for about a week, but I think I have already had my fill. I have already watched more of 'the View' then I think any human male should watch. And that has probably been some of the more stimulating stuff on. Its still the same. Different day; same crap. J.G. Wentworth can still help me get cash now on my structured settlement and Jerry Springer can still find people cheating on their spouses with their own family.
The travel mentality of just 'Keep Moving' has made it tough to just sit and stew for a bit. Even though that is probably what I need most. So if anyone needs me Ill be on the bus into town . . . . . .
Molli and Eric, my longtime friends, have been gracious enough to host me for the the last week of my trip. They have given me the run of the house while they are at work. The last few weeks have been pretty mental, and sleep has been well below par. So I have been spending most of late yesterday and the start of today guarding the couch.
The plan when I got home was to just veg out for about a week, but I think I have already had my fill. I have already watched more of 'the View' then I think any human male should watch. And that has probably been some of the more stimulating stuff on. Its still the same. Different day; same crap. J.G. Wentworth can still help me get cash now on my structured settlement and Jerry Springer can still find people cheating on their spouses with their own family.
The travel mentality of just 'Keep Moving' has made it tough to just sit and stew for a bit. Even though that is probably what I need most. So if anyone needs me Ill be on the bus into town . . . . . .
Friday, November 13, 2009
Seattle II
Seattle has been good. The space needle was about a third the size I expected it to be, but still the city was good, very pretty and clean. The mountains surrounding it and the trees turning color was the icing on the cake. Id come back.
But now, Im getting ready for my firsts intra-national Greyhound Bus experience: Portland, Oregon.
But now, Im getting ready for my firsts intra-national Greyhound Bus experience: Portland, Oregon.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Seattle
I never thought I would commit an act of terrorism, but today I blew up an airport toilet.
Have you ever taken such a big crap that you felt like you had to brush your teeth afterwards. I spent the next five minutes walking around the airport with a limp waiting for my eyes to uncross. I think the impact might have erased the first two months of my trip from my memory. Why does everything in this airport smell like burnt hair?
But coming to Hawaii for a week was the best/worst idea Ive ever had. A week there was way too short. No doubt there will be a second visit. No doubt. Hawaii is great. It has the beautiful location without all the ego BS of Miami. Being nonchalant and playing it cool is the name of the game. I like to think I made a seamless transition into the setting.
It was tough to leave, but onwords and upwards.
Well, at least Ill be in Seattle . . . . . . Seattle, What the hell was I thinking?
I overheard a woman in the airport.
"Seattle? Yeah, I came down from Vancouver to go there. It was the worst storm last night. I thought my wall was going to come down."
I got on the plane in a floral shirt and shorts. And I walked out of the airport into rain and cold.
Doug want Waikiki.
Have you ever taken such a big crap that you felt like you had to brush your teeth afterwards. I spent the next five minutes walking around the airport with a limp waiting for my eyes to uncross. I think the impact might have erased the first two months of my trip from my memory. Why does everything in this airport smell like burnt hair?
But coming to Hawaii for a week was the best/worst idea Ive ever had. A week there was way too short. No doubt there will be a second visit. No doubt. Hawaii is great. It has the beautiful location without all the ego BS of Miami. Being nonchalant and playing it cool is the name of the game. I like to think I made a seamless transition into the setting.
It was tough to leave, but onwords and upwards.
Well, at least Ill be in Seattle . . . . . . Seattle, What the hell was I thinking?
I overheard a woman in the airport.
"Seattle? Yeah, I came down from Vancouver to go there. It was the worst storm last night. I thought my wall was going to come down."
I got on the plane in a floral shirt and shorts. And I walked out of the airport into rain and cold.
Doug want Waikiki.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Waikiki Beach III
Yesterday was Sandwhich, Volleyball, Sandwhich. . . .
I have learned my lesson from my first day on the courts. My hair is just too long; it was constantly getting in my eyes while playing and leaving me very vulernable against some good talent. I wouldnt want to get caught with my pants down against some of these guys. So I broke out my headband.
Its pretty sweet actually. I am rocking a John McEnroe mushroom-top type look. That plus the unkept beard makes me quite the unique sight out on the courts.
I havent played proper ball in a while on a court or sand. So my endurance isnt what it should be, that plus the intense Hawaiian sun leaves me a sweaty mess after each game. And whenever I make a play for a shanked ball and dive in the sand, it all just sticks to my sweaty skin and beard. After one dive, the only thing distinugishing me from the homeless guys walking around collecting cans is my sweet headband.
The talent out here has been very good and Ive enjoyed the challenge. You always meet some interesting people on the court.
Day 1: A Norweigan guy who imitated Arnold Schwarzenger but cursed in Italian after any boggled hit. And a guy named Milan who was of course from Serbia.
Day 2: A freshman setter at Honolulu University who was red shirted after he broke his next after falling on the referee stand (a feat only possible if you have a serious vertical). We played a huge Samoan dude, who seemed to know everyone who approached the court. Nice guy.
Day 3: Another Honolulu University freshman and some other new recruits for their upcoming season. We played an ex pro, or at least Im told. One of the recruist, the one I played with at least, was a German named Jonas. Im 6'5", nearly two meters tall, but next to this guy I felt like a child. I honestly felt like he could pick me up and put me in his pocket. He had to be close to 7. Had to be. He made me feel like a decent setter for a change, because anything I put up always evolved into a 'gut hit.' I dont know why they kept serving him. His nickname the Berlin Wall seemed appropriate.
. . . . .
Today, I took a public bus, two and half hour to the furthers point from my hostel on the island. We drove all day through the beautiful weather. I got off the bus, laid on my towel, took off my shirt, put on some sun screen, and then it started to rain. But whatever, it doesnt matter. I am in the zone.
If ever I go missing from VA, and you are fairly certain I am still in the country, start with Hawaii.
I have learned my lesson from my first day on the courts. My hair is just too long; it was constantly getting in my eyes while playing and leaving me very vulernable against some good talent. I wouldnt want to get caught with my pants down against some of these guys. So I broke out my headband.
Its pretty sweet actually. I am rocking a John McEnroe mushroom-top type look. That plus the unkept beard makes me quite the unique sight out on the courts.
I havent played proper ball in a while on a court or sand. So my endurance isnt what it should be, that plus the intense Hawaiian sun leaves me a sweaty mess after each game. And whenever I make a play for a shanked ball and dive in the sand, it all just sticks to my sweaty skin and beard. After one dive, the only thing distinugishing me from the homeless guys walking around collecting cans is my sweet headband.
The talent out here has been very good and Ive enjoyed the challenge. You always meet some interesting people on the court.
Day 1: A Norweigan guy who imitated Arnold Schwarzenger but cursed in Italian after any boggled hit. And a guy named Milan who was of course from Serbia.
Day 2: A freshman setter at Honolulu University who was red shirted after he broke his next after falling on the referee stand (a feat only possible if you have a serious vertical). We played a huge Samoan dude, who seemed to know everyone who approached the court. Nice guy.
Day 3: Another Honolulu University freshman and some other new recruits for their upcoming season. We played an ex pro, or at least Im told. One of the recruist, the one I played with at least, was a German named Jonas. Im 6'5", nearly two meters tall, but next to this guy I felt like a child. I honestly felt like he could pick me up and put me in his pocket. He had to be close to 7. Had to be. He made me feel like a decent setter for a change, because anything I put up always evolved into a 'gut hit.' I dont know why they kept serving him. His nickname the Berlin Wall seemed appropriate.
. . . . .
Today, I took a public bus, two and half hour to the furthers point from my hostel on the island. We drove all day through the beautiful weather. I got off the bus, laid on my towel, took off my shirt, put on some sun screen, and then it started to rain. But whatever, it doesnt matter. I am in the zone.
If ever I go missing from VA, and you are fairly certain I am still in the country, start with Hawaii.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Waikiki Beach II
When I was in middle school my dream was always to become a mathmetician. I didnt really know what that involved, but I knew I was good at math and I enjoyed doing it. But when I got to university, after only a few math courses, my mind quickly turned to other things. My dream had changed. I would sit in class as my Russian professor would drone on about linear transformation and just fantasize about playing volleyball all day. Burning my books and just playing in the sand.
There was a new dream. Move to California, open a deli, give it the obvious alliterative name, and play volleyball all day. I dont particularly enjoy making sandwhiches for other people, but unbridled access to sandwhiches and volleyball just seemed like something that I could handle. Something that must happen. So that's what I have been doing in Hawaii. Making sandwhiches and playing volleyball. The only variation in my days is the order. Sandwhich, Volleyball, Sandwhich. Or Sandwhich, Sandwhich, Volleyball. And I couldnt ask for anything more. I move forward each day with a certainity that I havent had in a while. That this is what Doug should be doing.
So if you want to know what I am doing in Hawaii. Im just hanging out playing ball and living MY dream. Living MY dream for as long as I can . . . before I have to go home and Adam's Smith invisible hand crushes my spine.
. . . . .
Question: "What does the world Dinosaur mean?"
Its nice to see that even though I have been gone for a year and a half. The questions on the back of Quaker Oatmeal packets havent changed.
Answer: "It comes from two Greek worlds meaning 'Terrible Lizard."
. . . . .
The obvious alliterative title is 'Doug's Deli' Come on!
There was a new dream. Move to California, open a deli, give it the obvious alliterative name, and play volleyball all day. I dont particularly enjoy making sandwhiches for other people, but unbridled access to sandwhiches and volleyball just seemed like something that I could handle. Something that must happen. So that's what I have been doing in Hawaii. Making sandwhiches and playing volleyball. The only variation in my days is the order. Sandwhich, Volleyball, Sandwhich. Or Sandwhich, Sandwhich, Volleyball. And I couldnt ask for anything more. I move forward each day with a certainity that I havent had in a while. That this is what Doug should be doing.
So if you want to know what I am doing in Hawaii. Im just hanging out playing ball and living MY dream. Living MY dream for as long as I can . . . before I have to go home and Adam's Smith invisible hand crushes my spine.
. . . . .
Question: "What does the world Dinosaur mean?"
Its nice to see that even though I have been gone for a year and a half. The questions on the back of Quaker Oatmeal packets havent changed.
Answer: "It comes from two Greek worlds meaning 'Terrible Lizard."
. . . . .
The obvious alliterative title is 'Doug's Deli' Come on!
Monday, November 2, 2009
Waikiki Beach, Hawaii, USA
International travel just wasnt cutting it anymore, so I decided to kick it up a notch. Time Travel. I took off from Syndey, Australia at 6 pm on November 2 and arrived in Honolulu, Hawaii after a 10 flight at 7 am November 2. Im just that hardcore!
The bonus 21 hours is proving to be more of a curse then blessing at the moment, because even with the aisle seat sleeping on a flight is always nearly impossible for me and my fellow long legged colleges. So I arrived in Hawaii drained, and Im running on almost zero sleep and now have another 10 hours to go before Im back on schedule and can go to bed at sundown.
But I must say it feels good to be back in the US after 16 months. I feel so much safer with a pocket full of Greenbacks in the pocket. I cant put my finger on the difference, but damn it feels good to be back.
But to honest, I have to say the start of my Hawaiian experience was a bit of a let down. As a kid, whenever you watched a sitcom and they had their obligatory Hawaiian episode, whenever they go off the plane onto the tarmac, they all got a lei from a beautiful girl in a coconut bra, kisses on the cheeks and a big 'Aloha,' I got a 'Customs is this way sir.' What? Thats not Hawaii! I wanna get leid!
The bonus 21 hours is proving to be more of a curse then blessing at the moment, because even with the aisle seat sleeping on a flight is always nearly impossible for me and my fellow long legged colleges. So I arrived in Hawaii drained, and Im running on almost zero sleep and now have another 10 hours to go before Im back on schedule and can go to bed at sundown.
But I must say it feels good to be back in the US after 16 months. I feel so much safer with a pocket full of Greenbacks in the pocket. I cant put my finger on the difference, but damn it feels good to be back.
But to honest, I have to say the start of my Hawaiian experience was a bit of a let down. As a kid, whenever you watched a sitcom and they had their obligatory Hawaiian episode, whenever they go off the plane onto the tarmac, they all got a lei from a beautiful girl in a coconut bra, kisses on the cheeks and a big 'Aloha,' I got a 'Customs is this way sir.' What? Thats not Hawaii! I wanna get leid!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Syndey
Four days ago, we returned the caravan.
Two days ago, we flew back into Sydney from Auckland.
One day ago, we celebrated Halloween with a bunch of foreigners.
In one day, Ill be on a plane to Honolulu; back in the good ole' US of A.
In 12 days time, Ill be on a plane to Seattle.
In 15 days time, Ill be on a bus to Portland.
In 18 days time, Ill be back on a plane to home.
Home.
Two days ago, we flew back into Sydney from Auckland.
One day ago, we celebrated Halloween with a bunch of foreigners.
In one day, Ill be on a plane to Honolulu; back in the good ole' US of A.
In 12 days time, Ill be on a plane to Seattle.
In 15 days time, Ill be on a bus to Portland.
In 18 days time, Ill be back on a plane to home.
Home.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Auckland (passing through)
It had been six; No, seven days since our last shower. Thats not including the bath I took in the hot spring creek (the sulfur in the water smelt like rotten eggs, so despite my being submerged in water, the net effect is I was still one smelly American). Our individual odors were beginning to combine into one much larger transformer-like funk. So we decided to give in and hit a caravan park for a night and shower. Hollie caved a day ago, and decided to wash her hair in our sink. Our sink which moonlights as a toilet. It made some progress (to her maybe) but still we both stunk. The decision to stay at the park was a no-brainer. The funk had to be killed.
The avoiding caravan parks and just free camping has been paying off. It has been saving us at least 30 dollars a night. The only issue is, as I said, the poor hygiene. Bathing in thermals and swimming in creeks is a step in the right direction but doesnt quite do the job. These beautiful locks of mine require a level of care which I can no longer provide them.
Its hard to truly enjoy the beauty of this country when you yourself are a walking disaster.
. . . .
Hollie is siting in the driver seat with the car running. I open the passenger door and slide back in.
"What's wrong?" Hollie asks.
"I don't know what that guys problem was; I just used the toilet and asked him for directions and he didnt say anything?"
"You know you have oatmeal in your beard."
"? . . . "
Besides the bathing, it is hard trying to find a place to take a dignified crap either. Gas stations and KFCs are just about good as it gets.
Walking into the local McD's, hair standing on end like the bride of Frankenstein, looking like you just woke up in a van (because you did), no talking to any one or buying anything because you cant afford to (cant afford McDonalds) walking straight into the bathroom. Doing your morning routine in McDonalds sink is an all-time low. Brushing your teeth while some guy is trying to force out his supersized #4 with an extra hashbrown is an even lower one.
But no matter how grubby or pathetic we get we always have enough money to by wine and are never so desperate we eat bread ends.
Im lovin' it!
. . . . . .
Mt. Doom
Tongariro Crossing
The avoiding caravan parks and just free camping has been paying off. It has been saving us at least 30 dollars a night. The only issue is, as I said, the poor hygiene. Bathing in thermals and swimming in creeks is a step in the right direction but doesnt quite do the job. These beautiful locks of mine require a level of care which I can no longer provide them.
Its hard to truly enjoy the beauty of this country when you yourself are a walking disaster.
. . . .
Hollie is siting in the driver seat with the car running. I open the passenger door and slide back in.
"What's wrong?" Hollie asks.
"I don't know what that guys problem was; I just used the toilet and asked him for directions and he didnt say anything?"
"You know you have oatmeal in your beard."
"? . . . "
Besides the bathing, it is hard trying to find a place to take a dignified crap either. Gas stations and KFCs are just about good as it gets.
Walking into the local McD's, hair standing on end like the bride of Frankenstein, looking like you just woke up in a van (because you did), no talking to any one or buying anything because you cant afford to (cant afford McDonalds) walking straight into the bathroom. Doing your morning routine in McDonalds sink is an all-time low. Brushing your teeth while some guy is trying to force out his supersized #4 with an extra hashbrown is an even lower one.
But no matter how grubby or pathetic we get we always have enough money to by wine and are never so desperate we eat bread ends.
Im lovin' it!
. . . . . .
Mt. Doom
Tongariro Crossing
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Taupo
"Wha'd ya call me?"
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
This was taken on the side of the road that we had to take up to Milford Sound. The road was OK at the start, but eventually we had to follow a snow plow to get to the top.
Milford Sound
Lake Pukaki
Mt. Cook is in the middle, over the lateral morraine. Once, Sir Edmund Hillary's playground.
Moeraki Boulders
On the ferry back up to the North island, I walked onto the back of the boat to get some fresh air. This is what I was looking at . . .
. . . Or more close up. The air wasnt so fresh. There was a cattle car next to that one as well.
Right now, Im in Taupo using the Internet hoping that the weather will clear, so that we can do the Tongariro crossing tomorrow. If not then well have to leave here early to hit Rotorura and do some rafting.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Wellington
Caught the ferry back into Wellington on the North Island. Getting ready to check out the East Coast of the North Island.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Christchurch
The Spanish was beginning to grow louder now as the bus climbed the final incline of the long, dirt road. The bus began to kick until it finally reached the top, revealing a very dry, remote landscape with a large ravine running through the middle.
I was alone on a bus full of teenage Spanish exchange students sitting quietly enjoying the feeling of my stomach turning, contemplating whether or not I made the right decision. This is something that I had so effortless discussed my entire trip, and never second-guessed, but today, right now, it was about to happen. . . . potentially.
"Alright, Everyone. Listen up! And Welcome! Do any of you have to use the bathroom?"
"Yes/Ci."
Laughing, already knowing the answer "Alright, when you go inside the bathrooms are on your right. Once you are finished grab a locker and make sure you dont have any loose items in your pockets. Make sure to keep a jumper though, because it is really windy and cold out there on the platform. Once you are done with that, then head over to Cindy at the front desk and she will sort you out with a harness, OK?"
I head to the bathroom. Use it; then head towards the lockers. Maybe a second use is in order? Use it again and then stuff my wallet and a handful of lint into my locker.
Cindy sorts me out with a harness.
"OK, give these a pull for me." I do. She stops me, before I cut off the circulation in my legs. "No, they dont need to be that tight."
"Are you sure?" I loosen them only slightly.
"Have you ever done this before?"
HA! "No." As if she cant tell.
I head through another door and am now outback, standing before the viewing platform. In front of me, suspended by three steal cables, is the Nevis Bungy Jump jumping platform. The Nevis Bungy Jump is the 2nd highest bungy jump in the world sitting 134 metres, 442 feet over this rocky ravine. And in my eyes, it looks twice that and I have already bought my ticket.
A small figure can be seen ambling towards the edge and then silently being thrown from the platform.
I should have used the toilet three times.
By now the rest of the bus has caught up with me. They all stand next to me trying to take it in. Everyone's face either registers fear, excitement, or nothing.
That jump you paid for 20 miles away in that comfortable booking office with the smiling travel agent just became a reality. A very sweaty reality.
Our driver comes up behind us unnoticed. Everyone is focused on the jump.
"OK, the order for the jump has been predetermined based on weight. So Matthias is first, then Felipe is second,
ha, You poor Amigos! I think that ideal spot would be to go somewhere in the middle. You know, once you know the cord isnt made of tissue paper, but still well before the cord snaps. There are about 20 of us so . . . . about 10th . . yeah, 10th would be good.
", third is Doug, . . ."
Oh, Shit! I shouldnt have eaten that pie!
"OK, so the first six head onto the cart and the rest of you will be over shortly."
We pile into the cart with the metal, see through bottom and a waist bar that barely reaches my groin, and make our way towards the platform.
"Make sure to spread out or the cart will start to swing and you will get stuck!"
The Spanish guys ignore him, begin singing and dancing in the cart.
Toilet, por favor!
As, I stare past my feet through the grated floor, you can clearly see the ground level moving further and further away, until it reaches the full 442 feet, where it meets the water. Believe me, 442 feet is a long way!
The cart clinks and we are at the platform. The platform is a room maybe 15 foot by 15 foot with big windows and two doors. We came in the side door and will jumping out the front. Half of it is the blocked off jumping area and the other half is the waiting bit. There are 3 staff members already in it with four customers who've already gone.
"It's awesome man! You'll love it!" His teeth chattering.
I just sit down and try and calm myself.
"OK, Matthias come on buddy, you're up!" Already!
Everyone in the pod watches him get the leg straps tied around his ankles and sat in what looks like a dentist chair as they begin to attach the cord to his feet. Once, they are done they help him up, lead him towards the edge. Count. He jumps. Everyone rushes to the transparent tile in the middle of the platform floor.
Oh, shit that is a long way!!
Everyone laughs at what he just did, but stops short when they realize they arent far behind.
He is reeled back in upside down.
"Felipe, let's go!"
Geez, this is going quick!
I try and take some photos of the drop and the others on the platform but my hand is shaking to much, blurring each shot.
Phil rises out of the chair. And then is gone. Holy shit, this is happening!
Phil reappears in front of the platform, also upside down.
"Doug, you're next!"
(swallow) Without thinking I move forward. The waist high gate opens, and I am sat down in the dentist chair. The introductions are short. He begins giving me directions as he stands face down over my legs, already attaching the giant cord.
"Alright, So we are going to count down from three, then you are going to jump away from the platform. Once you have finished your second bounce you will pull the cord on your left leg."
OMG! Was he just saying something to me. "Which cord?"
"That one."
He shows me, again, but I am still too focused on the edge to have it register.
He helps me out of the chair and I shuffle to the plank, just two foot wide and jutting out a good two feet away from the rest of the platform.
"Further." He yells.
I take another small step.
"Further."
One more.
"Good."
Now, when I decided to do this. I knew there is no chance I would back out. In my mind, there is just no way I could see that happening. A) I thought I had the balls to do it. B) Even if I didnt, I am too stubborn and prideful, to go back and tell everyone I had to come down code 'P.' But once, I got out there on that plank and you see the huge gap in front of you. And you feel the emptiness between you and the rest of the Earth. All that confidence and certainty is gone.
"Alright, 3."
My stomach is completely upside down.
"2."
Am I really about to do this?
"1."
OMG! Did I tie my shoes tight enough?
"Go!"
I clench my bladder, jut my arms out, and scream like a girl as I jump. My heart skips a beat. Holy Shit!
Even though, I made sure to keep my eyes open the entire time, to the point of where my eyes were tearing (from the wind you jerk!), so much of the jump was a blur and still escapes me. But I do remember being terrified and amazed at the same time.
The ground rushes towards you as the cord begins to straighten.
At the bottom, I was expecting an extreme jerk, but that really wasnt the case. I think I was more relieved to know something was holding me to the platform as I neared the water.
I begin to go back up. I know I have to pull a cord on my left leg, but trying to find the right cord when you are upside down and disoriented proved to be difficult. Not knowing what would happen if I didnt pull it and assuming the worst if I pulled the wrong one I began to panic, gently pulling all cords I could reach, until I found the right one. My feet drop down and I am now right side up. I was the only person of the first three to go that were pulled back up head first, not upside down like a fish.
When I got back onto the platform the staff had to stop me from walking off with the cord still attached to my legs. Dazed and shaking, I grope my way to the back of the room, past the next joker about to go suck wind, and sat next to a Spanish girl crying, who just realized her expensive mistake. I began to collect my thoughts.
"That was AWESOME!"
I was alone on a bus full of teenage Spanish exchange students sitting quietly enjoying the feeling of my stomach turning, contemplating whether or not I made the right decision. This is something that I had so effortless discussed my entire trip, and never second-guessed, but today, right now, it was about to happen. . . . potentially.
"Alright, Everyone. Listen up! And Welcome! Do any of you have to use the bathroom?"
"Yes/Ci."
Laughing, already knowing the answer "Alright, when you go inside the bathrooms are on your right. Once you are finished grab a locker and make sure you dont have any loose items in your pockets. Make sure to keep a jumper though, because it is really windy and cold out there on the platform. Once you are done with that, then head over to Cindy at the front desk and she will sort you out with a harness, OK?"
I head to the bathroom. Use it; then head towards the lockers. Maybe a second use is in order? Use it again and then stuff my wallet and a handful of lint into my locker.
Cindy sorts me out with a harness.
"OK, give these a pull for me." I do. She stops me, before I cut off the circulation in my legs. "No, they dont need to be that tight."
"Are you sure?" I loosen them only slightly.
"Have you ever done this before?"
HA! "No." As if she cant tell.
I head through another door and am now outback, standing before the viewing platform. In front of me, suspended by three steal cables, is the Nevis Bungy Jump jumping platform. The Nevis Bungy Jump is the 2nd highest bungy jump in the world sitting 134 metres, 442 feet over this rocky ravine. And in my eyes, it looks twice that and I have already bought my ticket.
A small figure can be seen ambling towards the edge and then silently being thrown from the platform.
I should have used the toilet three times.
By now the rest of the bus has caught up with me. They all stand next to me trying to take it in. Everyone's face either registers fear, excitement, or nothing.
That jump you paid for 20 miles away in that comfortable booking office with the smiling travel agent just became a reality. A very sweaty reality.
Our driver comes up behind us unnoticed. Everyone is focused on the jump.
"OK, the order for the jump has been predetermined based on weight. So Matthias is first, then Felipe is second,
ha, You poor Amigos! I think that ideal spot would be to go somewhere in the middle. You know, once you know the cord isnt made of tissue paper, but still well before the cord snaps. There are about 20 of us so . . . . about 10th . . yeah, 10th would be good.
", third is Doug, . . ."
Oh, Shit! I shouldnt have eaten that pie!
"OK, so the first six head onto the cart and the rest of you will be over shortly."
We pile into the cart with the metal, see through bottom and a waist bar that barely reaches my groin, and make our way towards the platform.
"Make sure to spread out or the cart will start to swing and you will get stuck!"
The Spanish guys ignore him, begin singing and dancing in the cart.
Toilet, por favor!
As, I stare past my feet through the grated floor, you can clearly see the ground level moving further and further away, until it reaches the full 442 feet, where it meets the water. Believe me, 442 feet is a long way!
The cart clinks and we are at the platform. The platform is a room maybe 15 foot by 15 foot with big windows and two doors. We came in the side door and will jumping out the front. Half of it is the blocked off jumping area and the other half is the waiting bit. There are 3 staff members already in it with four customers who've already gone.
"It's awesome man! You'll love it!" His teeth chattering.
I just sit down and try and calm myself.
"OK, Matthias come on buddy, you're up!" Already!
Everyone in the pod watches him get the leg straps tied around his ankles and sat in what looks like a dentist chair as they begin to attach the cord to his feet. Once, they are done they help him up, lead him towards the edge. Count. He jumps. Everyone rushes to the transparent tile in the middle of the platform floor.
Oh, shit that is a long way!!
Everyone laughs at what he just did, but stops short when they realize they arent far behind.
He is reeled back in upside down.
"Felipe, let's go!"
Geez, this is going quick!
I try and take some photos of the drop and the others on the platform but my hand is shaking to much, blurring each shot.
Phil rises out of the chair. And then is gone. Holy shit, this is happening!
Phil reappears in front of the platform, also upside down.
"Doug, you're next!"
(swallow) Without thinking I move forward. The waist high gate opens, and I am sat down in the dentist chair. The introductions are short. He begins giving me directions as he stands face down over my legs, already attaching the giant cord.
"Alright, So we are going to count down from three, then you are going to jump away from the platform. Once you have finished your second bounce you will pull the cord on your left leg."
OMG! Was he just saying something to me. "Which cord?"
"That one."
He shows me, again, but I am still too focused on the edge to have it register.
He helps me out of the chair and I shuffle to the plank, just two foot wide and jutting out a good two feet away from the rest of the platform.
"Further." He yells.
I take another small step.
"Further."
One more.
"Good."
Now, when I decided to do this. I knew there is no chance I would back out. In my mind, there is just no way I could see that happening. A) I thought I had the balls to do it. B) Even if I didnt, I am too stubborn and prideful, to go back and tell everyone I had to come down code 'P.' But once, I got out there on that plank and you see the huge gap in front of you. And you feel the emptiness between you and the rest of the Earth. All that confidence and certainty is gone.
"Alright, 3."
My stomach is completely upside down.
"2."
Am I really about to do this?
"1."
OMG! Did I tie my shoes tight enough?
"Go!"
I clench my bladder, jut my arms out, and scream like a girl as I jump. My heart skips a beat. Holy Shit!
Even though, I made sure to keep my eyes open the entire time, to the point of where my eyes were tearing (from the wind you jerk!), so much of the jump was a blur and still escapes me. But I do remember being terrified and amazed at the same time.
The ground rushes towards you as the cord begins to straighten.
At the bottom, I was expecting an extreme jerk, but that really wasnt the case. I think I was more relieved to know something was holding me to the platform as I neared the water.
I begin to go back up. I know I have to pull a cord on my left leg, but trying to find the right cord when you are upside down and disoriented proved to be difficult. Not knowing what would happen if I didnt pull it and assuming the worst if I pulled the wrong one I began to panic, gently pulling all cords I could reach, until I found the right one. My feet drop down and I am now right side up. I was the only person of the first three to go that were pulled back up head first, not upside down like a fish.
When I got back onto the platform the staff had to stop me from walking off with the cord still attached to my legs. Dazed and shaking, I grope my way to the back of the room, past the next joker about to go suck wind, and sat next to a Spanish girl crying, who just realized her expensive mistake. I began to collect my thoughts.
"That was AWESOME!"
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Queenstown
Queenstown, beautiful lake side Queenstown.
The view from Wanaka.
We encountered this guy on the way into Wanaka. He was just walking down this highway on a cliff face. When we pulled up he, he said we could go pass. Hollie was driving at the time and asked how. He said, 'Just go for it!'
Me halfway up the terminal face of the Franz Joseph Glacier.
And dont give me shit; the fanny pack was mandatory.
Abel Tasman
New Zealand: 4 million people, 40 million sheep.
The view from Wanaka.
We encountered this guy on the way into Wanaka. He was just walking down this highway on a cliff face. When we pulled up he, he said we could go pass. Hollie was driving at the time and asked how. He said, 'Just go for it!'
Me halfway up the terminal face of the Franz Joseph Glacier.
And dont give me shit; the fanny pack was mandatory.
Abel Tasman
New Zealand: 4 million people, 40 million sheep.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Wellington
Well, we made it to the southern tip of the North Island, Wellington. The weather at the start of the trip had been pretty good. It only rained once, but once we got into the capital here, the weather turned sour. It has been rainy and cold since we pulled in. We both have been forced to rock our rain slicks to stay warm and dry.
But besides that things have been going well. Hollie ended up starting off the trip pulling us out of Auckland, while I navigated us towards Roturura. A bit of a school boy error on my part prohibited me from driving at the start. It turns out my drivers license had expired in August without my knowing, so I had to ask my folks for a bit of an international favor so that I could be put on the rental insurance. But anyway, that is all resolved and I have been let loose on the highways of New Zealand.
And damn this place is hilly. It isnt exactly the best spot to be practicing throwing a caravan into first on a hill. I never knew you could make a caravan jump. . . . But since those first frustrating days, I think I am getting the hang of it. Im not stalling as much or making the car lurch forward nearly as often, which is a good start. And Hollie no longer sighs when I offer to drive.
I am getting better. I think I have the highways down, it is the cities that are the problems: having to downshift quickly and pull out into traffic banking on your not stalling when you try and throw it into gear. But Im almost there.
. . . .
The caravan is great. We have been taking advantage of the full kitchen facilities in the back. There is little to no maintenance involved, you just need to make sure that the propane is filled for the stove, the water is filled for the sink, and the second battery is charged for the lights and refrigerator. The water and propane are easy fixes. The electricity is a bit tricky, because to get that you need to check into a caravan park overnight to recharge. And that costs money, so we are trying to free camp as much as possible without the fridge failing to save cash for sky diving.
The car company recommended we charge up every second night but we are trying to expand it to the every third or fourth without spoiling our bologne.
Free camping has been pretty easy and eventless. We have done it once in a car pull off, once on a desolate farm a local told us about, and then again last night on a residential street in Wellington. It is simple with the caravan, you just park it, pull out the bed, a bottle of wine, and noone is the wiser.
It was funny though our first night in the car pull off, our proximity to the road and our being unsure of whether or not what we were doing was safe and legal made us both a little bit jumpy. Hollie actually ended up having a nightmare about someone approaching the van and attacking us. So that night when we had to pee in the middle of the night, to avoid the cold and her imaginary assailant, we ended up just peeing the in the caravan sink. The same sink we used the next morning to clean our dishes.
. . . .
Right now, we are just roaming the city, trying to avoid the rain cold, and waiting to get on our 2:15 am ferry tonight down to the South island so we can continue the trip.
First sight of our home for the next 45 days
Hollie in front of the Waikato River
Lake Taupo
Me in my brand-new second-hand winter jacket.
This photo I took for my Dad, and I really took a page out of his book when I was taking it. I was driving and upon seeing a tank on the side of the road, I slammed on the brakes and stopped the car to get a closer look. And much as my Dad would have, without asking whos it was or whether or not I was allowed to, I just started to climb on it and fittle with any part of it that I could reach. Why? Because it was there and there was noone with a gun telling me not to.
But besides that things have been going well. Hollie ended up starting off the trip pulling us out of Auckland, while I navigated us towards Roturura. A bit of a school boy error on my part prohibited me from driving at the start. It turns out my drivers license had expired in August without my knowing, so I had to ask my folks for a bit of an international favor so that I could be put on the rental insurance. But anyway, that is all resolved and I have been let loose on the highways of New Zealand.
And damn this place is hilly. It isnt exactly the best spot to be practicing throwing a caravan into first on a hill. I never knew you could make a caravan jump. . . . But since those first frustrating days, I think I am getting the hang of it. Im not stalling as much or making the car lurch forward nearly as often, which is a good start. And Hollie no longer sighs when I offer to drive.
I am getting better. I think I have the highways down, it is the cities that are the problems: having to downshift quickly and pull out into traffic banking on your not stalling when you try and throw it into gear. But Im almost there.
. . . .
The caravan is great. We have been taking advantage of the full kitchen facilities in the back. There is little to no maintenance involved, you just need to make sure that the propane is filled for the stove, the water is filled for the sink, and the second battery is charged for the lights and refrigerator. The water and propane are easy fixes. The electricity is a bit tricky, because to get that you need to check into a caravan park overnight to recharge. And that costs money, so we are trying to free camp as much as possible without the fridge failing to save cash for sky diving.
The car company recommended we charge up every second night but we are trying to expand it to the every third or fourth without spoiling our bologne.
Free camping has been pretty easy and eventless. We have done it once in a car pull off, once on a desolate farm a local told us about, and then again last night on a residential street in Wellington. It is simple with the caravan, you just park it, pull out the bed, a bottle of wine, and noone is the wiser.
It was funny though our first night in the car pull off, our proximity to the road and our being unsure of whether or not what we were doing was safe and legal made us both a little bit jumpy. Hollie actually ended up having a nightmare about someone approaching the van and attacking us. So that night when we had to pee in the middle of the night, to avoid the cold and her imaginary assailant, we ended up just peeing the in the caravan sink. The same sink we used the next morning to clean our dishes.
. . . .
Right now, we are just roaming the city, trying to avoid the rain cold, and waiting to get on our 2:15 am ferry tonight down to the South island so we can continue the trip.
First sight of our home for the next 45 days
Hollie in front of the Waikato River
Lake Taupo
Me in my brand-new second-hand winter jacket.
This photo I took for my Dad, and I really took a page out of his book when I was taking it. I was driving and upon seeing a tank on the side of the road, I slammed on the brakes and stopped the car to get a closer look. And much as my Dad would have, without asking whos it was or whether or not I was allowed to, I just started to climb on it and fittle with any part of it that I could reach. Why? Because it was there and there was noone with a gun telling me not to.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Auckland, NZ!
Two days ago, I arrived into Auckland, New Zealand's largest city. And I have been spending the last few days with Hollie, my English friend I met in Fremantle, preparing for our 6 week road trip around New Zealand.
We have made the reservation for the camper van and well pick it up tomorrow morning to begin the tour. Now, the camper van is pretty sweet. It has a sink, microwave, refrigerator, storage space, raised ceiling, and a table with seats that can become a bed in the rear. And the thing looks like it could take an anti-tank round. It is no doubt guaranteed good times. The only issue is its a stick shift.
I have driven stick only twice in the US. Once with my friend Chris who was either kind enough or foolish enough to let me drive his car. And the other time was with my grandfather who was teaching me because I was going to go rent a car with my brother in Ireland. And rumor has it the mainly drive manual transmission cars. The car we got in Ireland was automatic so I got no experience there. And it wasnt until I drove up the West coast of Australia with the two girls from Freo that I got another chance to drive stick, and even then that was brief and clunky. I got to try it again once in a 4WD Land Cruiser out on Fraser Island, but again that was also brief but much smoother. So needless to say I am no expert. So driving this Monster 5-speed Camper van down the streets of Auckland could only be classified as an adventure. I think I am going to just give in and let myself be emasculated and let my female companion drive us out of the city till I get the hang of it. But still I couldnt be more excited.
Prior to my actually arriving in New Zealand, I have heard nothing but praise about this place. Everything is cheaper, great scenery, nice people, good wine, and of course bungee jumping. Has my travel insurance expired yet? I am expecting good things over the next 6 weeks. So heres to my not being disappointed.
Let's do this!
We have made the reservation for the camper van and well pick it up tomorrow morning to begin the tour. Now, the camper van is pretty sweet. It has a sink, microwave, refrigerator, storage space, raised ceiling, and a table with seats that can become a bed in the rear. And the thing looks like it could take an anti-tank round. It is no doubt guaranteed good times. The only issue is its a stick shift.
I have driven stick only twice in the US. Once with my friend Chris who was either kind enough or foolish enough to let me drive his car. And the other time was with my grandfather who was teaching me because I was going to go rent a car with my brother in Ireland. And rumor has it the mainly drive manual transmission cars. The car we got in Ireland was automatic so I got no experience there. And it wasnt until I drove up the West coast of Australia with the two girls from Freo that I got another chance to drive stick, and even then that was brief and clunky. I got to try it again once in a 4WD Land Cruiser out on Fraser Island, but again that was also brief but much smoother. So needless to say I am no expert. So driving this Monster 5-speed Camper van down the streets of Auckland could only be classified as an adventure. I think I am going to just give in and let myself be emasculated and let my female companion drive us out of the city till I get the hang of it. But still I couldnt be more excited.
Prior to my actually arriving in New Zealand, I have heard nothing but praise about this place. Everything is cheaper, great scenery, nice people, good wine, and of course bungee jumping. Has my travel insurance expired yet? I am expecting good things over the next 6 weeks. So heres to my not being disappointed.
Let's do this!
Monday, September 14, 2009
Sydney
Yesterday morning, I arrived back in Sydney from Byron Bay after a 12-hour, event less, yet still sleepless, overnight bus ride. I have just completed my trip traveling completely around Australia after my arriving here some 9 months ago. I am expecting a phone call from Kevin Rudd here any moment.
On arrival, I caught up on some sleep, got some new passport pages from the always pleasant American consulate, and I am now preparing for tomorrow's early departure to Auckland, New Zealand. The last new country on my list before I return to America!
September 16: Sydney, Australia to Auckland, New Zealand
October 31: Auckland, New Zealand to Sydney, Australia
November 2: Sydney, Australia to Honolulu, Hawaii
November 10: Honolulu, Hawaii to Seattle, Washington
(after a long walk)
November 19: Portland, Oregon to Washington DC
It is upon us.
On arrival, I caught up on some sleep, got some new passport pages from the always pleasant American consulate, and I am now preparing for tomorrow's early departure to Auckland, New Zealand. The last new country on my list before I return to America!
September 16: Sydney, Australia to Auckland, New Zealand
October 31: Auckland, New Zealand to Sydney, Australia
November 2: Sydney, Australia to Honolulu, Hawaii
November 10: Honolulu, Hawaii to Seattle, Washington
(after a long walk)
November 19: Portland, Oregon to Washington DC
It is upon us.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Byron Bay (con't)
Continuing with the sentiment from the last post, am I going to have a country to return to?
What the hell is going on DC?
I leave for 14 months and this is what happens?
And why is Sarah Palin's name still in the press?
What the hell is going on DC?
I leave for 14 months and this is what happens?
And why is Sarah Palin's name still in the press?
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Byron Bay
Throughout my entire trip, I have missed my family and friends. But within the last month I have just begun to crave home. What specifically? . . . . just about Everything.
.
.
I miss setting down to the dinner table with my family. My dad trying to retell jokes from David Letterman the night before, but never quite remembering the punch lines.
His always being the first to laugh in hopes that it will catch on. It always does but not for the reason he intended. My mom is always quick to shoot a discouraging look at my brother and I, but deep down you can see she is trying to prevent herself from joining us.
I miss my car. My sweet, sweet car. I miss driving around familiar streets on the right side of the road. Or driving around DC or on 66 at night, and having the road to yourself, knowing that within several hours the road will become a parking lot.
I miss looking my friends in the eyes when I talk to them.
I miss taking trips to Harrisburg for Christmas, Thanksgiving, or whoever's birthday it is at that time; the good cooking, playing with my cousins and catching up.
I miss walking up to my house and having Maddie (my cat) come bounding out of a bush covered in dirt. And stopping just within arms reach so that you can pet her.
If had to book my tickets now, I would be home within in the month instead of the 2 and half months I still have remaining. Dont get me wrong, I am enjoying myself and will continue to do so for the next several months but I think I have achieved what it is I set out to and now am ready to come back.
Byron is a beautiful, chilled-out spot and have been really enjoying it, but again I am just ready for home.
.
.
I miss setting down to the dinner table with my family. My dad trying to retell jokes from David Letterman the night before, but never quite remembering the punch lines.
His always being the first to laugh in hopes that it will catch on. It always does but not for the reason he intended. My mom is always quick to shoot a discouraging look at my brother and I, but deep down you can see she is trying to prevent herself from joining us.
I miss my car. My sweet, sweet car. I miss driving around familiar streets on the right side of the road. Or driving around DC or on 66 at night, and having the road to yourself, knowing that within several hours the road will become a parking lot.
I miss looking my friends in the eyes when I talk to them.
I miss taking trips to Harrisburg for Christmas, Thanksgiving, or whoever's birthday it is at that time; the good cooking, playing with my cousins and catching up.
I miss walking up to my house and having Maddie (my cat) come bounding out of a bush covered in dirt. And stopping just within arms reach so that you can pet her.
If had to book my tickets now, I would be home within in the month instead of the 2 and half months I still have remaining. Dont get me wrong, I am enjoying myself and will continue to do so for the next several months but I think I have achieved what it is I set out to and now am ready to come back.
Byron is a beautiful, chilled-out spot and have been really enjoying it, but again I am just ready for home.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Rainbow Beach II
So thats what Irish boobs feel like!
Fraser Island. Night time. Beers. Too Many Cheap Boxes of Wine. The ring of people around the camp fire has since dissipated and one third of the people have already gone to bed.
I was talking with an English girl about who knows what, when I overheard a conversation going on between an English guy and a German girl.
" . . . . Americans are just so ignorant. They hate German People and they probably hate English as well . . . ."
The English guy who was speaking clearly had been drinking but still you could see the passion in what he was saying, that this is something that he could have really believed. The German girl just sat there smiling.
I calmly tap the English guy on his knee interrupting what must have been an already long speech.
"What are you guys talking about?" I asked, acting liking I didnt really hear what was being said.
The English guy turns to me and addresses me, already knowing that I am 'the American' but I am not sure if he knew me by name at this point: "You know how it is, so many Americans are just so ignorant and just seem to hate the rest of the world, but I know your are cool."
Hm
My mother, my father, my brother, my family, my friends, my mailman, and my cat are all ignorant, BUT I am cool. What a relief? I know I was born to just a couple of inbred jug-blowing hill billies, but I cant help but feel mildly offended.
Now, when you are traveling in Australia the majority of other travelers you encounter are either European (Eastern and Western), Canadian, American, Korean, Japanese, or Taiwanese. And anyone with even a mild familiarity with 20th Century History knows that these are all nations that owe the US either partially or completely for that fact that they dont speak either German, Japanese, or Russian.
Now, I would never say this to any of them, because that is no way of making friends (but I think it). So to help fend off these bologne stereotypes you need to take them head on and maintain your cool.
So what were the allegations: Americans are ignorant and hate Germans and English people!
"Dude, I completely disagree with what you just said. A lot of Americans may not be able to name the leaders of either country but they do not hate you. I mean unless you are talking to an 80 year old World Ward II veteran, there is no real animosity towards Germany in the US. Germans LOVE IT when you talk about World War II. (And I know; I have since done the math and know that an 80 year old WWII veteran would have been only twelve at the time of US involvement but still the burn stands). And as for the English (interrupting myself) Where did you say you were in the US?
"Well, I was there once when I was younger," he admits timidly.
(pause)
Let his floppy terd just air dry for a minute
"Well, I dont have to tell you that calling the average American ignorant when you yourself havent even really been there, in turn makes you ignorant.
"And as for the British, if you were to go to the US, sure the average person wouldnt have any fucking idea where Wales was, but still ignorance doesnt imply hate. In fact, it is quite the opposite. I guarantee woman there would faun over you and the men there would be very interested to hear what you had to say. Which is unfortunate because you are a jackass! They would probably even look up to you in a way."
Some other Englishman who had just been observing chimes in, "Well said!"
"No, I know!" As he backpedals to save face and whatever chances he may have had with the German girl who has since left the conversation.
Now, I dont remember the exact phrasing of the entire encounter, but I do specifically remember looking him directly in the eyes through the dark night and calmly calling him ignorant to his face. And even still when I went to bed some 15 minutes later, I made sure to say good night to him. And he still gave me what I perceived to be a genuine "Cheers, mate!"
. .
Given, my past posts about drinking and getting thrown out of bars, I dont know how all of you feel about my being the quasi-representative of our country that all travelers are, but I think Im doing OK. Honestly, I am never the drunkest person in the room, but I am still much livelier then lets say an Al Gore. To be real, I am closer to a Ted Kennedy type character, except honest, chivalrous, and with a normal size head.
. .
Great Britain is made up of three countries: Scotland, England, and Wales. The United Kingdom is Great Britain plus Northern Ireland. Wales is west of and CONNECTED, CONNECTED to England in Great Britain. YOU DO NOT NEED TO TAKE A BOAT TO GET TO WALES FROM ENGLAND. You can, but you dont need to. You could drive your double decker there from London. You just need to find a reason to go there.
Learn it!
Fraser Island. Night time. Beers. Too Many Cheap Boxes of Wine. The ring of people around the camp fire has since dissipated and one third of the people have already gone to bed.
I was talking with an English girl about who knows what, when I overheard a conversation going on between an English guy and a German girl.
" . . . . Americans are just so ignorant. They hate German People and they probably hate English as well . . . ."
The English guy who was speaking clearly had been drinking but still you could see the passion in what he was saying, that this is something that he could have really believed. The German girl just sat there smiling.
I calmly tap the English guy on his knee interrupting what must have been an already long speech.
"What are you guys talking about?" I asked, acting liking I didnt really hear what was being said.
The English guy turns to me and addresses me, already knowing that I am 'the American' but I am not sure if he knew me by name at this point: "You know how it is, so many Americans are just so ignorant and just seem to hate the rest of the world, but I know your are cool."
Hm
My mother, my father, my brother, my family, my friends, my mailman, and my cat are all ignorant, BUT I am cool. What a relief? I know I was born to just a couple of inbred jug-blowing hill billies, but I cant help but feel mildly offended.
Now, when you are traveling in Australia the majority of other travelers you encounter are either European (Eastern and Western), Canadian, American, Korean, Japanese, or Taiwanese. And anyone with even a mild familiarity with 20th Century History knows that these are all nations that owe the US either partially or completely for that fact that they dont speak either German, Japanese, or Russian.
Now, I would never say this to any of them, because that is no way of making friends (but I think it). So to help fend off these bologne stereotypes you need to take them head on and maintain your cool.
So what were the allegations: Americans are ignorant and hate Germans and English people!
"Dude, I completely disagree with what you just said. A lot of Americans may not be able to name the leaders of either country but they do not hate you. I mean unless you are talking to an 80 year old World Ward II veteran, there is no real animosity towards Germany in the US. Germans LOVE IT when you talk about World War II. (And I know; I have since done the math and know that an 80 year old WWII veteran would have been only twelve at the time of US involvement but still the burn stands). And as for the English (interrupting myself) Where did you say you were in the US?
"Well, I was there once when I was younger," he admits timidly.
(pause)
Let his floppy terd just air dry for a minute
"Well, I dont have to tell you that calling the average American ignorant when you yourself havent even really been there, in turn makes you ignorant.
"And as for the British, if you were to go to the US, sure the average person wouldnt have any fucking idea where Wales was, but still ignorance doesnt imply hate. In fact, it is quite the opposite. I guarantee woman there would faun over you and the men there would be very interested to hear what you had to say. Which is unfortunate because you are a jackass! They would probably even look up to you in a way."
Some other Englishman who had just been observing chimes in, "Well said!"
"No, I know!" As he backpedals to save face and whatever chances he may have had with the German girl who has since left the conversation.
Now, I dont remember the exact phrasing of the entire encounter, but I do specifically remember looking him directly in the eyes through the dark night and calmly calling him ignorant to his face. And even still when I went to bed some 15 minutes later, I made sure to say good night to him. And he still gave me what I perceived to be a genuine "Cheers, mate!"
. .
Given, my past posts about drinking and getting thrown out of bars, I dont know how all of you feel about my being the quasi-representative of our country that all travelers are, but I think Im doing OK. Honestly, I am never the drunkest person in the room, but I am still much livelier then lets say an Al Gore. To be real, I am closer to a Ted Kennedy type character, except honest, chivalrous, and with a normal size head.
. .
Great Britain is made up of three countries: Scotland, England, and Wales. The United Kingdom is Great Britain plus Northern Ireland. Wales is west of and CONNECTED, CONNECTED to England in Great Britain. YOU DO NOT NEED TO TAKE A BOAT TO GET TO WALES FROM ENGLAND. You can, but you dont need to. You could drive your double decker there from London. You just need to find a reason to go there.
Learn it!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Rainbow Beach
It was suggested to me that I should have taken a photo of the gentlemen, from my previous post, doing his deed and then had him pay me to delete the photo.
No!
Because I would have had to A) Look at the photo first to confirm my find B) Talk to him and C) Either handle money he had touched or defended myself against him and his greasy knuckles, as he tried to steal my camera.
No, Thanks. I think it ended the best way possible.
. . . . .
In Bundaberg, I was checked into the other hostel by a gentlemen named Phil. Within the 2 minutes it took him to get my details and give me my key, I could tell that Phil is a cool guy but a guy who didnt take any shit. And it wasnt until I checked out yesterday, I had a 15 minute conversation with Phil that I confirmed that.
Its funny, when you travel you meet some people and you dont get along at all and others you can click withing a couple of minutes. Phil and I clicked. I think is because we are just so similar. Except that he is Canadian, extremely muscular, a former pro mixed martial artist, has served prison time, and within the last two months has taken on 5 people in a fight and gotten away with only some bruised ribs.
OK, so we arent similar at all. But we do have a similar story. I quit Freddie Mac to go traveling. He use to be an accountant, but was sent to prison for defending himself against and nearly killing a guy who had a bat and a knife, but was released from prison for good behavior after saving two prison guards during a riot and then went traveling. . . . .
Same thing! I just skipped a step.
.
.
.
Yes, Phil is a real person and yes we are now facebook friends.
. . . . .
Something actually serious. Hey guys, I just wanted to sincerely thank anyone who has been keeping up with blog. Writing is something that has been foreign to me for most of my life. But the feedback that people keep giving me and the comments on the blog are really what gives me the confidence to write and fuels my desire to do so.
So again a sincere 'Thank you' goes out to you guys!
I am now in Rainbow Beach and will be here for 4 days and wont be on the PC till I get into Brisbane. I hope to see you then.
No!
Because I would have had to A) Look at the photo first to confirm my find B) Talk to him and C) Either handle money he had touched or defended myself against him and his greasy knuckles, as he tried to steal my camera.
No, Thanks. I think it ended the best way possible.
. . . . .
In Bundaberg, I was checked into the other hostel by a gentlemen named Phil. Within the 2 minutes it took him to get my details and give me my key, I could tell that Phil is a cool guy but a guy who didnt take any shit. And it wasnt until I checked out yesterday, I had a 15 minute conversation with Phil that I confirmed that.
Its funny, when you travel you meet some people and you dont get along at all and others you can click withing a couple of minutes. Phil and I clicked. I think is because we are just so similar. Except that he is Canadian, extremely muscular, a former pro mixed martial artist, has served prison time, and within the last two months has taken on 5 people in a fight and gotten away with only some bruised ribs.
OK, so we arent similar at all. But we do have a similar story. I quit Freddie Mac to go traveling. He use to be an accountant, but was sent to prison for defending himself against and nearly killing a guy who had a bat and a knife, but was released from prison for good behavior after saving two prison guards during a riot and then went traveling. . . . .
Same thing! I just skipped a step.
.
.
.
Yes, Phil is a real person and yes we are now facebook friends.
. . . . .
Something actually serious. Hey guys, I just wanted to sincerely thank anyone who has been keeping up with blog. Writing is something that has been foreign to me for most of my life. But the feedback that people keep giving me and the comments on the blog are really what gives me the confidence to write and fuels my desire to do so.
So again a sincere 'Thank you' goes out to you guys!
I am now in Rainbow Beach and will be here for 4 days and wont be on the PC till I get into Brisbane. I hope to see you then.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Bundaberg
GAMP!
I am writing this next post more for therapeutic purposes then for my usual entertain. The following is pretty gross and mildly disturbing (but no less true), so I dont recommend everyone read it. Grandma please dont read this, it is gross. Any cousins I have that are under 15 and are following along, thanks for doing so, but please give this one a skip. Maddie (my cat) please do not give into your usual curious instincts but instead resume whatever it is you do for a living. Honestly, nothing really happened to me, so if you dont read this you are not missing anything.
[Grandma, I put a circle where it is save for you to start reading again.]
OK, so to get from Airlie Beach to Bundaberg, I had to take an overnight bus. The bus left Airlie Beach at 5:25 pm and was expected to get into Bundaberg at 3:30 am. All was fine, I got to the bus OK, there were no issues getting on, everyone who wanted to was able to find a seat in empty row, so they had two seats to themselves. I even ended up sitting across the row from a pretty French girl who recognized me from Cairns.
"Do you play Volleyball?"
"Why, yes I do."
"Yes, I saw you in Cairnes."
"I bet you did!" (Damn, thats what I should have said!"
As you can see, things were good.
But about an hour into the ride, I noticed a very foul smell coming from the person in front of me. It was actually very, very foul. It smelt like he was wearing his socks and then eating them or eating some kind of wet cat food. It was rank and I think made my hair one shade lighter.
Luckily, it only came in small powerful bursts. Fine. I can handle that.
About an hour or so later, I noticed him picking his nose and then balling up his little treasure. I didnt see their final destination . . . the bottom of the seat, his mouth, his eye. I dont know and I dont care as long as it wasnt me. Its fine, its gross and weird but I can handle that.
About two hours later, it got really weird. As I was watching 'Cadillac Man,' the movie they put on on the bus, I noticed him watching something. He was watching this movie on his camera, that I presume he took, of some guy dancing around. Now normally, I wouldnt have thought anything of it, it just looked like some drunken tape he took of him and his buddies, which he evidently he missed. But he kept glancing back at me while watching it. What is going on? I just pretended that I didnt notice him glancing back and just kept watching the group movie.
. .
. .
But, he kept glancing back so much, that is was obvious he was doing something that he felt was wrong. And I was able to see that the guy on the camera now had his shirt off. The 'short clips' that I saw didnt go where you are thinking it is going, but the volume of footage of this person that he had and the way in which he was watching it made it uber creepy. He had enough footage to continuously watch videos of this person through 'Cadillac Man' and then for a while there after.
I am now beginning to get concerned. It is pretty late and I am tired and I want to go to sleep but I am too scared at this point. I am afraid that this creepy dude might try to take a video of me or touch me while Im sleeping or something that I cant let happen. So I dont sleep. I keep fading in out. I just keep trying to keep tabs on what he is doing, without looking at him long enough to give him reason to look at me.
. .
. .
At about 2 am, I noticed that he had stopped watching his video and stopped glancing at me. He was now looking at the French girl across the row fom me. She had turned her reading light on at some point during the trip, and then apparently fell asleep under it. So when the lights went down on the bus she was clearly illuminated laying against the window.
His glancing at her was obvious; she was over his shoulder so you could easily see his head swivel back and forth with each glance.
Now, what he is doing in the seat in front of me during this is unclear. I dont see his hands or anything tangible that I could describe to you that led me to my conclusion, except his timid learing, but I know something is up and I am NOT fine with it.
Sleeping is no longer an option. Survival is now the goal. My only option it to now just sit and watch this guy watch this girl and only hope that I stay awake long enough to prevent anything too weird from happenenig beyond what I already suspect.
I liked this guy better when he was holding his camera.
. .
Dont Sleep!
. .
Dont Sleep!
. .
(eyes closing)
Dont Sleep!
. .
Then out of the blue, the French girl wakes up, quickly pulls her jacket over herself, and now turns away so that she is no long facing him. During this, he whips his head around and throws himself so that he is face down on his row of chairs. Now, I didnt see her see him, but both of these evidents happened at the exact same moment, and they both moved with such speed and purpose that what happened was clear.
I am initially disgusted, but eventually relieved, because as long as he stayed like this I think potential for uncountering any type of UFO has been decreased to threat level blue.
I know he must have been embarrassed because he remained on his stomach for the rest of the trip or at least till he got off (no pun intended).
. .
This was good but bad, because he got off at my stop!
As we were pulling into Bundaberg, my stop, and the driver announced we were almost there, I started to get my stuff together. He does so, too.
Are you kidding me? What have I done to deserve this? This guy could only have been a worse bus companion if he jumped into my seat and then tried to give me a high five after his solo adventure. And then pulled a parrot and a baby out of his bag.
Why me?
I say goodbye to the French girl, acting as if I knew nothing and get off the bus.
The driver hands me my bag. I asked where a certain hostel was. I didnt have anything booked at this point, but I had heard this hostel was good so I asked about it. The driver starts to give me the directions, but someone interrupts from behind me,
"It's OK, I am going there, too. You can follow me!" NO, IT CANT BE!
I turn around and I am now looking directly at the certain individual, except now there is no chair separating us. OMG Please Dont Touch Me!
I am stunned. And when did you put on sweatpants?
He takes my lack of saying anything as exceptance and marches on. I hesitate. God please dont let the French girl see me walk away with this person. But I really did need to find a place to stay and I Swedish fellow also said he needed to get there too, so I count myself temporarily safe and followed. But I made sure to leave a healthy margin between me and the geographically ambiguous masterbater.
Withing a couple of meters of leaving the station with Pee Wee Herman and the Swede, I saw a differnt hostel then the one we were heading to.
"Guys, Im just going to check this hostel. I dont want to have to carry my bags any further then I need to." Or get slimed!
"No problem, we will watch your bag." said the GAMP (a geographically ambiguous masterbating person). I look at the Swede. Do not let this person touch my bag or your person. No response.
I go up to the hostel doors. No lights on. Reception is closed. And noone is about to sneak me in. SERIOUSLY, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME? I return to the guys.
"Guys its closed, but I am going to just hang out in front of this hostel till it opens in the morning."
The GAMP replies: "No dont be silly, I know someone at (the other hostel). She'll let us in and we can all crash in the TV room tonight together."
There is no way I am sleeping anywhere near this guy, let alone on an open floor. . . . even with Sweden between us. I open my mouth to politefully refuse, when this drunk German girl comes out of no where.
"Hey, where are you all headed?" She said. Easily, indentifying us as foreign newcomers, by our backpacs and the confused expression on the three of our faces. One face even looked like it had tears in its eyes.
The Swede tells her the hostel name.
"Yeah thats where Im staying too. I dont know how you are going to get into your room because reception is closed, but there are two empty beds in my room you can sneak into."
I make sure to say Thanks first to claim my stake in one of them, and pat the Swede on the back to claim his. The German girl begins to think through her offer:
"Its in an all girl dorm though. . ."
"haha, Dont worry! We dont mind!"
. . . So, I was pretty much saved from the GAMP and his sticky fingers by this drunk German girl. I was beyond relieved. This German girl made up for the two the other night and their tequila.
And that is how the story pretty much ended. I was able to secure one bed and the Sweded the other without incident. And I was able to say goodbye to the GAMP without a handshake or even so much as a second look.
In the morning, I left without reception protesting and checked into a hostel on the otherside of Bundaberg.
And since, I have been spending the last two in this tiny town wandering the streets trying not to bump into a certain individual. So far I have been successful.
But the whole irony of the situation is, the thing that brought me into this warped situation is going to be the same one to get me out of it: Another night bus!
O [Welcome back Grandma!]
And that's why I dont collect PEZ dispensers anymore!
I am writing this next post more for therapeutic purposes then for my usual entertain. The following is pretty gross and mildly disturbing (but no less true), so I dont recommend everyone read it. Grandma please dont read this, it is gross. Any cousins I have that are under 15 and are following along, thanks for doing so, but please give this one a skip. Maddie (my cat) please do not give into your usual curious instincts but instead resume whatever it is you do for a living. Honestly, nothing really happened to me, so if you dont read this you are not missing anything.
[Grandma, I put a circle where it is save for you to start reading again.]
OK, so to get from Airlie Beach to Bundaberg, I had to take an overnight bus. The bus left Airlie Beach at 5:25 pm and was expected to get into Bundaberg at 3:30 am. All was fine, I got to the bus OK, there were no issues getting on, everyone who wanted to was able to find a seat in empty row, so they had two seats to themselves. I even ended up sitting across the row from a pretty French girl who recognized me from Cairns.
"Do you play Volleyball?"
"Why, yes I do."
"Yes, I saw you in Cairnes."
"I bet you did!" (Damn, thats what I should have said!"
As you can see, things were good.
But about an hour into the ride, I noticed a very foul smell coming from the person in front of me. It was actually very, very foul. It smelt like he was wearing his socks and then eating them or eating some kind of wet cat food. It was rank and I think made my hair one shade lighter.
Luckily, it only came in small powerful bursts. Fine. I can handle that.
About an hour or so later, I noticed him picking his nose and then balling up his little treasure. I didnt see their final destination . . . the bottom of the seat, his mouth, his eye. I dont know and I dont care as long as it wasnt me. Its fine, its gross and weird but I can handle that.
About two hours later, it got really weird. As I was watching 'Cadillac Man,' the movie they put on on the bus, I noticed him watching something. He was watching this movie on his camera, that I presume he took, of some guy dancing around. Now normally, I wouldnt have thought anything of it, it just looked like some drunken tape he took of him and his buddies, which he evidently he missed. But he kept glancing back at me while watching it. What is going on? I just pretended that I didnt notice him glancing back and just kept watching the group movie.
. .
. .
But, he kept glancing back so much, that is was obvious he was doing something that he felt was wrong. And I was able to see that the guy on the camera now had his shirt off. The 'short clips' that I saw didnt go where you are thinking it is going, but the volume of footage of this person that he had and the way in which he was watching it made it uber creepy. He had enough footage to continuously watch videos of this person through 'Cadillac Man' and then for a while there after.
I am now beginning to get concerned. It is pretty late and I am tired and I want to go to sleep but I am too scared at this point. I am afraid that this creepy dude might try to take a video of me or touch me while Im sleeping or something that I cant let happen. So I dont sleep. I keep fading in out. I just keep trying to keep tabs on what he is doing, without looking at him long enough to give him reason to look at me.
. .
. .
At about 2 am, I noticed that he had stopped watching his video and stopped glancing at me. He was now looking at the French girl across the row fom me. She had turned her reading light on at some point during the trip, and then apparently fell asleep under it. So when the lights went down on the bus she was clearly illuminated laying against the window.
His glancing at her was obvious; she was over his shoulder so you could easily see his head swivel back and forth with each glance.
Now, what he is doing in the seat in front of me during this is unclear. I dont see his hands or anything tangible that I could describe to you that led me to my conclusion, except his timid learing, but I know something is up and I am NOT fine with it.
Sleeping is no longer an option. Survival is now the goal. My only option it to now just sit and watch this guy watch this girl and only hope that I stay awake long enough to prevent anything too weird from happenenig beyond what I already suspect.
I liked this guy better when he was holding his camera.
. .
Dont Sleep!
. .
Dont Sleep!
. .
(eyes closing)
Dont Sleep!
. .
Then out of the blue, the French girl wakes up, quickly pulls her jacket over herself, and now turns away so that she is no long facing him. During this, he whips his head around and throws himself so that he is face down on his row of chairs. Now, I didnt see her see him, but both of these evidents happened at the exact same moment, and they both moved with such speed and purpose that what happened was clear.
I am initially disgusted, but eventually relieved, because as long as he stayed like this I think potential for uncountering any type of UFO has been decreased to threat level blue.
I know he must have been embarrassed because he remained on his stomach for the rest of the trip or at least till he got off (no pun intended).
. .
This was good but bad, because he got off at my stop!
As we were pulling into Bundaberg, my stop, and the driver announced we were almost there, I started to get my stuff together. He does so, too.
Are you kidding me? What have I done to deserve this? This guy could only have been a worse bus companion if he jumped into my seat and then tried to give me a high five after his solo adventure. And then pulled a parrot and a baby out of his bag.
Why me?
I say goodbye to the French girl, acting as if I knew nothing and get off the bus.
The driver hands me my bag. I asked where a certain hostel was. I didnt have anything booked at this point, but I had heard this hostel was good so I asked about it. The driver starts to give me the directions, but someone interrupts from behind me,
"It's OK, I am going there, too. You can follow me!" NO, IT CANT BE!
I turn around and I am now looking directly at the certain individual, except now there is no chair separating us. OMG Please Dont Touch Me!
I am stunned. And when did you put on sweatpants?
He takes my lack of saying anything as exceptance and marches on. I hesitate. God please dont let the French girl see me walk away with this person. But I really did need to find a place to stay and I Swedish fellow also said he needed to get there too, so I count myself temporarily safe and followed. But I made sure to leave a healthy margin between me and the geographically ambiguous masterbater.
Withing a couple of meters of leaving the station with Pee Wee Herman and the Swede, I saw a differnt hostel then the one we were heading to.
"Guys, Im just going to check this hostel. I dont want to have to carry my bags any further then I need to." Or get slimed!
"No problem, we will watch your bag." said the GAMP (a geographically ambiguous masterbating person). I look at the Swede. Do not let this person touch my bag or your person. No response.
I go up to the hostel doors. No lights on. Reception is closed. And noone is about to sneak me in. SERIOUSLY, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME? I return to the guys.
"Guys its closed, but I am going to just hang out in front of this hostel till it opens in the morning."
The GAMP replies: "No dont be silly, I know someone at (the other hostel). She'll let us in and we can all crash in the TV room tonight together."
There is no way I am sleeping anywhere near this guy, let alone on an open floor. . . . even with Sweden between us. I open my mouth to politefully refuse, when this drunk German girl comes out of no where.
"Hey, where are you all headed?" She said. Easily, indentifying us as foreign newcomers, by our backpacs and the confused expression on the three of our faces. One face even looked like it had tears in its eyes.
The Swede tells her the hostel name.
"Yeah thats where Im staying too. I dont know how you are going to get into your room because reception is closed, but there are two empty beds in my room you can sneak into."
I make sure to say Thanks first to claim my stake in one of them, and pat the Swede on the back to claim his. The German girl begins to think through her offer:
"Its in an all girl dorm though. . ."
"haha, Dont worry! We dont mind!"
. . . So, I was pretty much saved from the GAMP and his sticky fingers by this drunk German girl. I was beyond relieved. This German girl made up for the two the other night and their tequila.
And that is how the story pretty much ended. I was able to secure one bed and the Sweded the other without incident. And I was able to say goodbye to the GAMP without a handshake or even so much as a second look.
In the morning, I left without reception protesting and checked into a hostel on the otherside of Bundaberg.
And since, I have been spending the last two in this tiny town wandering the streets trying not to bump into a certain individual. So far I have been successful.
But the whole irony of the situation is, the thing that brought me into this warped situation is going to be the same one to get me out of it: Another night bus!
O [Welcome back Grandma!]
And that's why I dont collect PEZ dispensers anymore!
Friday, August 28, 2009
Airlie Beach
I have a drinking problem; I cant find my cup.
Last night, I was kicked out of a bar in Airlie Beach by some jackass bouncer for having too much to drink. When he first approached me I did a double take. I didnt even realize that the dude worked there. I mean since when is it a crime to be tall and clumsy. The Aussie just love drinking so much so their liability laws are much stricter here, so the bouncers are much more active then at home. I mean fair enough I was wasted, but come on. In DC, if you can lift your arm to pay for the drink, theyll give it to you. And at the end of the night, they just sweep you up and take you out to the curb.
Its funny. I know I am tall but I dont think of myself as a big person, but the handful of times I have been asked to leave an establishment for either malicious dancing or for being too good-looking the bouncers give me such respect here, I love it. Through my drunk eyes, they always seem to act like they are taming a bear.
" Woah, there big fella!"
They are always careful not to touch me or stand directly in my path. They just walk behind me as my drunk ass searches for the door. And the past two times, they had two of them approach me. One does the talking the other just looks tough. Its hilarious! As I am slowly marched to the door, I always have to fight the urge to just run and hide behind some fat chick. But I abide so that I can leave with at least some dignity (some is lower case for a reason).
But in all fairness, last night wasnt my fault. It was those German girls and their tequila. Honestly, if two German girls come up to you and say "You drink this!" Really what can you say?
" No fuck you Blonde girls and your free alcohol; now get out of my face!"
. . . . . .
For my birthday a couple of weeks ago, I was given a boomerang by Hollie in Cairns. Oh my Gosh, I was so stoked! You have no idea! I dont know my imagination just got the best of me and I pictured myself just walking around town with my Boomerang "Matilda" just solving crime: Foiling bank heists, getting cats out of trees, boomeranging terrorists and you know just making the world a better place.
Walking from town to town across Australia, slowly accumulated more and more Boomerangers until we had a huge posse. Within maybe a couple of months at max, we would have gotten UN backing and you know really gone global. I think Somalia would have been our first stop, to sort out those bloody pirates.
Mr Obama, how do you feel about Doug Jeffery's Boomeranging, "I approve!"
Eventually, I would be tragically forced into premature retirement after a stray boomerang thrown by my trusted Boomerang Shirpa, Teeka, hit me in the shoulder and took me out of commission, we remain friends but he is a shell of his former self. And I would take up Boomsmithing to you know just stay in the game, but you its just not the same anymore. These kids today, they just dont know what its all about anymore! Not like back in the old days in Cairns!
. . . . . so needless to say you can see I was excited when I got this Boomerang.
We went to a cricket pitch for our expedition, and believe me I was prepared to go mad with that thing. I stretched out, cracked my knuckles, the whole lot, I picked it up in my hand, gauged the wind by the bend in the plam trees, pulled her back . . . . . And fuck me I am shit at throwing a Boomerang.
I might as well have been throwing a floppy turd, that thing didnt even consider returning to me. I was so devastated, my never-feasible future, just crumbled before my tear filled eyes. It was the toughest four hours of my trip. Thank God Hollie was there to talk me down from the ledge.
Luckily, my second birthday gift was a harpoon gun. . . . .
Last night, I was kicked out of a bar in Airlie Beach by some jackass bouncer for having too much to drink. When he first approached me I did a double take. I didnt even realize that the dude worked there. I mean since when is it a crime to be tall and clumsy. The Aussie just love drinking so much so their liability laws are much stricter here, so the bouncers are much more active then at home. I mean fair enough I was wasted, but come on. In DC, if you can lift your arm to pay for the drink, theyll give it to you. And at the end of the night, they just sweep you up and take you out to the curb.
Its funny. I know I am tall but I dont think of myself as a big person, but the handful of times I have been asked to leave an establishment for either malicious dancing or for being too good-looking the bouncers give me such respect here, I love it. Through my drunk eyes, they always seem to act like they are taming a bear.
" Woah, there big fella!"
They are always careful not to touch me or stand directly in my path. They just walk behind me as my drunk ass searches for the door. And the past two times, they had two of them approach me. One does the talking the other just looks tough. Its hilarious! As I am slowly marched to the door, I always have to fight the urge to just run and hide behind some fat chick. But I abide so that I can leave with at least some dignity (some is lower case for a reason).
But in all fairness, last night wasnt my fault. It was those German girls and their tequila. Honestly, if two German girls come up to you and say "You drink this!" Really what can you say?
" No fuck you Blonde girls and your free alcohol; now get out of my face!"
. . . . . .
For my birthday a couple of weeks ago, I was given a boomerang by Hollie in Cairns. Oh my Gosh, I was so stoked! You have no idea! I dont know my imagination just got the best of me and I pictured myself just walking around town with my Boomerang "Matilda" just solving crime: Foiling bank heists, getting cats out of trees, boomeranging terrorists and you know just making the world a better place.
Walking from town to town across Australia, slowly accumulated more and more Boomerangers until we had a huge posse. Within maybe a couple of months at max, we would have gotten UN backing and you know really gone global. I think Somalia would have been our first stop, to sort out those bloody pirates.
Mr Obama, how do you feel about Doug Jeffery's Boomeranging, "I approve!"
Eventually, I would be tragically forced into premature retirement after a stray boomerang thrown by my trusted Boomerang Shirpa, Teeka, hit me in the shoulder and took me out of commission, we remain friends but he is a shell of his former self. And I would take up Boomsmithing to you know just stay in the game, but you its just not the same anymore. These kids today, they just dont know what its all about anymore! Not like back in the old days in Cairns!
. . . . . so needless to say you can see I was excited when I got this Boomerang.
We went to a cricket pitch for our expedition, and believe me I was prepared to go mad with that thing. I stretched out, cracked my knuckles, the whole lot, I picked it up in my hand, gauged the wind by the bend in the plam trees, pulled her back . . . . . And fuck me I am shit at throwing a Boomerang.
I might as well have been throwing a floppy turd, that thing didnt even consider returning to me. I was so devastated, my never-feasible future, just crumbled before my tear filled eyes. It was the toughest four hours of my trip. Thank God Hollie was there to talk me down from the ledge.
Luckily, my second birthday gift was a harpoon gun. . . . .
Monday, August 24, 2009
Ayr
I got to do the SS Yongala dive two days ago. It was great I got to see some Humpback whales breeching on the way out and then I got see some Eagles Rays, Turtles, Clown Fish, Sea Snakes, Huge Grouper, and Rock Cod out there as well. It was a great dive. Unfortunately, you cant actually go into the wreck, but you really didnt need to anyway. There was plenty of live and coral on the outside of the boat. Also, I have no photos of the wreck, I just couldnt be bothered to rent one of those underwater cameras.
Also, something I didnt realize. You know that guy that killed his wife 6 years ago in Australia while diving on their honeymoon. Well that took place on the Yongala dive site, crazy stuff!
Right now, Im just waiting for my bus to Airlie Beach where Ill check out the Whitsundays, which is suppose to be good; so Im pumped for that. Im just glad its over cast so I dont have to ride the 3 hours on the bus with swamp ass.
Also, something I didnt realize. You know that guy that killed his wife 6 years ago in Australia while diving on their honeymoon. Well that took place on the Yongala dive site, crazy stuff!
Right now, Im just waiting for my bus to Airlie Beach where Ill check out the Whitsundays, which is suppose to be good; so Im pumped for that. Im just glad its over cast so I dont have to ride the 3 hours on the bus with swamp ass.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Cairns II
Well, Today is my last day in Cairns before I head down the East Coast tomorrow morning to begin the final leg of my Australian tour.
I have already booked most of the stuff Ill be doing by a travel agency ahead of time and Ill be traveling by bus for the whole trip so I dont see much potential for flat tires or hitchhiking but who knows. So I expect the actual traveling to be pretty tame, but I am more then welcoming it. I wouldnt mind some effortless travel at this point.
Traveling without a plan where everything is up in the air is a great experience and really has been the best bits of my trip, but you need some time in between to just recuperate and just veg out. Particularly, when you are already trying to be as thrifty as possible anyway, which usually involves sacrificing most of the luxuries you are use to already.
But still I am very much looking forward to this last bit of my trip in Australia. The main highlights are going to be my Yongala dive, the Whitsundays sailing, and the Fraser island 4WD.
1) The SS Yongala is a freight steamer that sunk in 1911 about 22 kms off the coast of Australia, near Townsville. It was a ship that was headed to Cairns from Melbourne but a cyclone sunk it and is now suppose to be one of the best dive sites in the world. The top of the deck is 16m down and the bottom of the wreck is about 30m down, and the wreck itself is suppose to be teaming with fish.
I myself am only open water certified which means that I can only dive to a max depth of 18m, but I am going to take some brief course once I get there and theyll let me dive the full depth and go throughout the wreck. I am mucho excited!
2) Whitsundays is suppose to be a beautiful bunch of islands off the coast to go snorkeling and sailing. The dream 'island caretaker' position offered about 6 months ago in Australia was for an island right near Whitsundays.
Im going to go on a sail boat out there for 2 days and two nights do whatever it is you do on a boat.
3) Fraser Island is a world heritage site, again an island off the coast that is suppose to full of a type of dingo unique to the island and some great beaches. Less then two weeks ago, a Dutch couple's child was attacked by one of the dingo and the dingo had to be put down. The child survived but it was still a big story.
So yeah, thats the plan. The end of the trip will plant me back in Sydney after nine and a half months of Australia, where Kevin Rudd will give me the keys to the country, because I have been owning Australia!
. . . . .
When I get back into Sydney Ill swing into the Embassy down there, pick up some more passport pages, and fly over to Auckland in New Zealand. Ill treck around there for some 6 weeks. Then Ill fly back to Sydney for a day then onto Hawaii where Ill be back on US soil for the first time in 17 months! Oh yeah! Cheney is president right?
I have already booked most of the stuff Ill be doing by a travel agency ahead of time and Ill be traveling by bus for the whole trip so I dont see much potential for flat tires or hitchhiking but who knows. So I expect the actual traveling to be pretty tame, but I am more then welcoming it. I wouldnt mind some effortless travel at this point.
Traveling without a plan where everything is up in the air is a great experience and really has been the best bits of my trip, but you need some time in between to just recuperate and just veg out. Particularly, when you are already trying to be as thrifty as possible anyway, which usually involves sacrificing most of the luxuries you are use to already.
But still I am very much looking forward to this last bit of my trip in Australia. The main highlights are going to be my Yongala dive, the Whitsundays sailing, and the Fraser island 4WD.
1) The SS Yongala is a freight steamer that sunk in 1911 about 22 kms off the coast of Australia, near Townsville. It was a ship that was headed to Cairns from Melbourne but a cyclone sunk it and is now suppose to be one of the best dive sites in the world. The top of the deck is 16m down and the bottom of the wreck is about 30m down, and the wreck itself is suppose to be teaming with fish.
I myself am only open water certified which means that I can only dive to a max depth of 18m, but I am going to take some brief course once I get there and theyll let me dive the full depth and go throughout the wreck. I am mucho excited!
2) Whitsundays is suppose to be a beautiful bunch of islands off the coast to go snorkeling and sailing. The dream 'island caretaker' position offered about 6 months ago in Australia was for an island right near Whitsundays.
Im going to go on a sail boat out there for 2 days and two nights do whatever it is you do on a boat.
3) Fraser Island is a world heritage site, again an island off the coast that is suppose to full of a type of dingo unique to the island and some great beaches. Less then two weeks ago, a Dutch couple's child was attacked by one of the dingo and the dingo had to be put down. The child survived but it was still a big story.
So yeah, thats the plan. The end of the trip will plant me back in Sydney after nine and a half months of Australia, where Kevin Rudd will give me the keys to the country, because I have been owning Australia!
. . . . .
When I get back into Sydney Ill swing into the Embassy down there, pick up some more passport pages, and fly over to Auckland in New Zealand. Ill treck around there for some 6 weeks. Then Ill fly back to Sydney for a day then onto Hawaii where Ill be back on US soil for the first time in 17 months! Oh yeah! Cheney is president right?
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Still in Cairns, but here are old photos.
A Dingo at our campsite in Karijini.
The cost of gas on the Gibbs River Road in the middle of nowhere. Two Dollar Australian per Litre means its about Eight Australian Dollars to a Gallon, which means its about Seven Dollars American per Gallon.
We actually saw this guy in the middle of the Gibbs too. He was this guy who looked like he rolled out of the bush. He was walking next to his red van which had its front cut off so that it could be towed by these two huge camels. I guess thats the best way to save on gas.
The first flat.
The second of four, 100 metres from the first. We are stuck at this point and know it.
The Great Barrier Reef. I got to do three dives here yesterday. It was good stuff!
The Cairns Marine.
The cost of gas on the Gibbs River Road in the middle of nowhere. Two Dollar Australian per Litre means its about Eight Australian Dollars to a Gallon, which means its about Seven Dollars American per Gallon.
We actually saw this guy in the middle of the Gibbs too. He was this guy who looked like he rolled out of the bush. He was walking next to his red van which had its front cut off so that it could be towed by these two huge camels. I guess thats the best way to save on gas.
The first flat.
The second of four, 100 metres from the first. We are stuck at this point and know it.
The Great Barrier Reef. I got to do three dives here yesterday. It was good stuff!
The Cairns Marine.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Cairns
Have you ever eaten cold bake beans straight out of the can?
I arrived into Cairns yesterday morning and spent the first day sleeping, because I spent the night before sleeping in an airport and the night before that sleeping in a car. But it is beautiful and look forward to the two weeks I have here, including my birthday.
I arrived into Cairns yesterday morning and spent the first day sleeping, because I spent the night before sleeping in an airport and the night before that sleeping in a car. But it is beautiful and look forward to the two weeks I have here, including my birthday.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Darwin
The Jeep was fixed in Kununurra and I managed to get a ride to Darwin with the same guys as before and I got to see my first traffic lights since Perth.
In two days, I fly to Cairnes.
In two days, I fly to Cairnes.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Kununurra
Within 10 k of leaving Broome with my new English crew, the difference between driving with Woman and Men was more then apparent.
With the girls, the car was kept reasonably tidy; there was a designated garbage bag for trash. The windows were up, air conditioning flows. Music was playing but at a tolerable level, so reading and light conversation were possible. And the car just seems to glide to its destination at an effortless pace(save the flat).
With the guys, the car is taring down the road fluctuating between 10 and 30k over the speed limit, the tumble bar is frequently heard as the car slips off the side of the road as the driver stuffs his hand into a bag to grab the last of the potato chips. The windows are open, the music is blaring, conversation is impossible. As you reach down under the seat to try and find some more chips, you tare the old snickers wrapper off your leg that you cant remember eating. We stop only to pee or buy food.
When I was with the girls, we woke up every morning had oats for breakfast with some sort of fruit and a cup of tea. For the two of the last three nights for dinner we had a vegetable curry prepared over our cooking stove.
With the guys, breakfast is usual forgone because you slept in and lunch is whatever you can buy at a gas station, a sandwich, a sausage roll, potato chips, or a candy bar. For dinner, you have the choice of sausage tomato sauce and pasta or tuna tomato sauce and pasta. Indigestion and flatulence are inevitable!
. . . . .
After leaving Broome, our first stop was Derby the last town to get supplies to get supplies at before you take on the Gibbs River Road. The Gibbs River Road is one of the roads you can take between Broome and Darwin to get through the Kimberleys. If you were to look at a map of Western Australia and find the Northern Most highway just at the eastern edge of the state, Route 1, the Gibbs River Road is the dashed line that runs parallel just above it. They say it was a road created by truckers and miners to be able to move whatever to wherever quicker. Dont be mistaken. IT IS NOT A ROAD. It is a mechanics wet dream.
That . . . . that thing is just ridiculous. They say you need a 4 wheel drive. We had that! They say you need extra gasoline. We had 20 L on top of our existing 60 L gas tank. They say you need two spare tires. We had one. They say you need all of the usual outback supplies, lots of water, extra engine oil, sun screen . . . we left with that but our faulty roof rack decided to toss most of our supplies into the bush arbitrarily. By the end of the trip we had lost two pairs of shoes, a water bottle, 20 L of water, the engine oil, a sleeping bag mat, and even our other tent. By the end 3 of us were sleeping in our three man tent and the fourth was left to sleep across the seats in the truck.
But even with the supplies we managed to retain we still werent prepared for that damn thing. On the third day, after we were 160 ks from the last road house and just 40 ks of the next camp ground we got a flat. We took all of the crap out of our car to get to the jack, jacked up the car, changed the car (I took the lead due to me recent experience) put all of the crap back in the boot, tied down the old wheel and kept on. Not within 400 m of the first (hand to God) we got a second flat. We have no second spare. We had to flag down a Swiss couple to give one of the English guys a ride to the next campsite to get our spare changed.
The remaining three of us sat on that road for 3 and a half hours, playing soccer or napping until he returned. Five cars passed in those 3 and a half hours.
The six was a bunch of French guys blaring Johnny Cash with Tony, the English guy, with the fixed spare on his lap. We thanked the Frogs for helping us, got the jack, changed the tire and then race towards the campsite before dusk to avoid the soon to be active Kangaroo, Dingo, and roaming cattle. On the way to the campsite we have no issues but begin to hear a sharp metal on metal sound from the front wheel and once in the campsite parking lot get a third flat.
The next morning, we had created a quite ambitious itinerary of seeing some hot springs and more gorges, but it was all destroyed by the mechanics diagnosis that we had a broken wheel barring and a new one would have to flown out from Perth (where I started from) and would take probably 3 or 4 days to get there. On top of that he was only able to fix one of our tires and didnt have a spare our size, so we had no spare. We asked the mechanic whether or not he thought wed been able to get to Kununurra if we just road on it real slow. He said he wouldnt move it. We had some thinking to do.
Now with the girls, when we came to a cross roads and a decision needed to be made, the options were talked about, considered, and a consensus was formed.
With the guys, the options were talked about, considered and then we decided what most men do, when they refuse to except the reality of situation and just give in to the irrational pack mentality:
"Fuck it, lets Go!"
We drove on that piece of crap wheel, some 130 k, to get to Kununurra, at an average speed of 25 miles an hour with our blinkers blazing to get here. The tire began to wobble but we kept going. The front brakes began to give, but we kept going. The metal screeching sound got unbearable, we turned the music up. We stopped twice to discuss whether or not it is possible for a wheel to actually fall off a car, but we kept going. And I have never seen so many crazy looks as we pulled into that garage. Some laughed and others just shook their heads, but Damn it, we made it!
. . . . . .
Right now, we are waiting on those parts from Perth they say two days, and a couple of hours to install, assuming no other damage, but who knows. But I am now back in Limbo, and I have to decide whether or not to keep going with the English blokes or to catch another ride onto Darwin. But as the Aussie's say 'No Worries!'
With the girls, the car was kept reasonably tidy; there was a designated garbage bag for trash. The windows were up, air conditioning flows. Music was playing but at a tolerable level, so reading and light conversation were possible. And the car just seems to glide to its destination at an effortless pace(save the flat).
With the guys, the car is taring down the road fluctuating between 10 and 30k over the speed limit, the tumble bar is frequently heard as the car slips off the side of the road as the driver stuffs his hand into a bag to grab the last of the potato chips. The windows are open, the music is blaring, conversation is impossible. As you reach down under the seat to try and find some more chips, you tare the old snickers wrapper off your leg that you cant remember eating. We stop only to pee or buy food.
When I was with the girls, we woke up every morning had oats for breakfast with some sort of fruit and a cup of tea. For the two of the last three nights for dinner we had a vegetable curry prepared over our cooking stove.
With the guys, breakfast is usual forgone because you slept in and lunch is whatever you can buy at a gas station, a sandwich, a sausage roll, potato chips, or a candy bar. For dinner, you have the choice of sausage tomato sauce and pasta or tuna tomato sauce and pasta. Indigestion and flatulence are inevitable!
. . . . .
After leaving Broome, our first stop was Derby the last town to get supplies to get supplies at before you take on the Gibbs River Road. The Gibbs River Road is one of the roads you can take between Broome and Darwin to get through the Kimberleys. If you were to look at a map of Western Australia and find the Northern Most highway just at the eastern edge of the state, Route 1, the Gibbs River Road is the dashed line that runs parallel just above it. They say it was a road created by truckers and miners to be able to move whatever to wherever quicker. Dont be mistaken. IT IS NOT A ROAD. It is a mechanics wet dream.
That . . . . that thing is just ridiculous. They say you need a 4 wheel drive. We had that! They say you need extra gasoline. We had 20 L on top of our existing 60 L gas tank. They say you need two spare tires. We had one. They say you need all of the usual outback supplies, lots of water, extra engine oil, sun screen . . . we left with that but our faulty roof rack decided to toss most of our supplies into the bush arbitrarily. By the end of the trip we had lost two pairs of shoes, a water bottle, 20 L of water, the engine oil, a sleeping bag mat, and even our other tent. By the end 3 of us were sleeping in our three man tent and the fourth was left to sleep across the seats in the truck.
But even with the supplies we managed to retain we still werent prepared for that damn thing. On the third day, after we were 160 ks from the last road house and just 40 ks of the next camp ground we got a flat. We took all of the crap out of our car to get to the jack, jacked up the car, changed the car (I took the lead due to me recent experience) put all of the crap back in the boot, tied down the old wheel and kept on. Not within 400 m of the first (hand to God) we got a second flat. We have no second spare. We had to flag down a Swiss couple to give one of the English guys a ride to the next campsite to get our spare changed.
The remaining three of us sat on that road for 3 and a half hours, playing soccer or napping until he returned. Five cars passed in those 3 and a half hours.
The six was a bunch of French guys blaring Johnny Cash with Tony, the English guy, with the fixed spare on his lap. We thanked the Frogs for helping us, got the jack, changed the tire and then race towards the campsite before dusk to avoid the soon to be active Kangaroo, Dingo, and roaming cattle. On the way to the campsite we have no issues but begin to hear a sharp metal on metal sound from the front wheel and once in the campsite parking lot get a third flat.
The next morning, we had created a quite ambitious itinerary of seeing some hot springs and more gorges, but it was all destroyed by the mechanics diagnosis that we had a broken wheel barring and a new one would have to flown out from Perth (where I started from) and would take probably 3 or 4 days to get there. On top of that he was only able to fix one of our tires and didnt have a spare our size, so we had no spare. We asked the mechanic whether or not he thought wed been able to get to Kununurra if we just road on it real slow. He said he wouldnt move it. We had some thinking to do.
Now with the girls, when we came to a cross roads and a decision needed to be made, the options were talked about, considered, and a consensus was formed.
With the guys, the options were talked about, considered and then we decided what most men do, when they refuse to except the reality of situation and just give in to the irrational pack mentality:
"Fuck it, lets Go!"
We drove on that piece of crap wheel, some 130 k, to get to Kununurra, at an average speed of 25 miles an hour with our blinkers blazing to get here. The tire began to wobble but we kept going. The front brakes began to give, but we kept going. The metal screeching sound got unbearable, we turned the music up. We stopped twice to discuss whether or not it is possible for a wheel to actually fall off a car, but we kept going. And I have never seen so many crazy looks as we pulled into that garage. Some laughed and others just shook their heads, but Damn it, we made it!
. . . . . .
Right now, we are waiting on those parts from Perth they say two days, and a couple of hours to install, assuming no other damage, but who knows. But I am now back in Limbo, and I have to decide whether or not to keep going with the English blokes or to catch another ride onto Darwin. But as the Aussie's say 'No Worries!'
Friday, July 24, 2009
Broome II
The wedding in Broome was a good time (Raf and Simone were willing to give me a ride up the coast because they had a wedding to attend out here around the same time I was heading up here). It was my first beach wedding. I got to rock up in jeans and flip flops and watch the ceremony. The ceremony took place on Cable Beach right before the Sunset.
Before we got to the beach, the water was closed to swimmers because a 3.5 m croc was spotted in the water. I was waiting for it to make an appearance at the wedding but it never showed.
The three of us have just been camping around Broome, enjoying the sunshine and the beaches for the past few days. But now that is all changing. I put up a flyer about three days ago on a bulletin board at our campground that I was looking for a lift to Darwin and last night I got a call from one of three English guys from Kent who are headed that way. They all seem like good guys and have 4WD, which is essential in the top end, so Ive decided to join up with them. We are going to take about a week getting there and seeing whatever there is to see along the way . . . and we leave in an hour. . . . . . soooo.
Me enjoying the sun.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Broome
Just got in.
On the way to Nullagine from Karijini National Park, we ended up getting a flat on these back, dirt roads about 70 k from our destination. We had a spare so it wasnt much of an issue but if we would have lost that spare we would have been out of luck. We had only past one other vehicle, a mining truck on the way in and were low on water. We had maybe 4 L between 3 people and a couple of six packs. If things would have gotten sticky, we would have had to resort to drinking beer; God forbid!
But the flat resulted in what I think was the best photo of my trip.
Proof that I did help. . . . eventually.
Karijini NP
On the way to Nullagine from Karijini National Park, we ended up getting a flat on these back, dirt roads about 70 k from our destination. We had a spare so it wasnt much of an issue but if we would have lost that spare we would have been out of luck. We had only past one other vehicle, a mining truck on the way in and were low on water. We had maybe 4 L between 3 people and a couple of six packs. If things would have gotten sticky, we would have had to resort to drinking beer; God forbid!
But the flat resulted in what I think was the best photo of my trip.
Proof that I did help. . . . eventually.
Karijini NP
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