Well as I was told a city is a city, is a city and Sydney is a city nothing paricularly Austrialian. In fact when I first arrived I though I might have been in Asia! I wandered around for the first few days, long enough for me to be sure that I should be let round cities (certainly not Aussie ones) on my own. I wasn't eating and was becoming noctural and genrally zombie-fying. I can't explain it, perhaps its the concrete jungle syndrome but I seem to cease fuctioning properly in cities when I'm on my own. I saw the harbour and some nice museums but the weather was grim and when the sun did shine the buildings are so tall and the streets so narrow that none of light gets down to the pavement. It was at this stage I booked the dive course.
On particular low evening, I was wandering aimlessly round the shopping area in Sydney, waiting for 7pm to come when I could meet an old pal from Home and have my first conversation with anyone in three days. It was then I heard a band busking outside central Sydney's biggest mall. It sounded like some sort of salza music and they had distracted quite a large number from their late night shopping. It was amazing what happened next, on listning suddenly I was no longer cold and misrable, in a lonely city that I didn't want to be in, where I was reduced (yet again) to talking to myself - I was transported to some where exciting, exotic and warm. I could smell the market stalls and busy town streets of Latin America, the very pulse of somewhere I'd much rather be, contained in very beat. Feeling the uplift of these rhythms was a timely reminder of the power of music in a continent of two-bit cover bands and second rate performances.
I talked to the band for a while after they had finished, even got a cassette for my travels. They were from Boliva but appeared to be more or less permanently in Australia in the role of wandering troubadours. And thus, I suspect, begins for me the long road to La Paz. The constant trials and temptations of the travel junkie!
After that I came to stay with Keith and Sharon - Keith whom I'd known since day dot as our parents are friends. I must have talked the hind legs off them both, especially after all those days with no contact. I clearly was not cut out to be a hermit! I continued with my museum tour of Sydney, having fun in the Aquarium and being mightly impressed with the modern art gallery. I love modern art galleries, for me its kinda like treasure hunting. I have to admit that much contemporary art passes me by, either it's artistic merit eludes me entirely, I can't quite 'get' it or I reckon a four year old must have done it. But every now and then there's something that really stands out and speaks to me with a power and often a violence unparelled in "nice art". And when it does I feel what was in the artists, their feelings and thoughts and very core opinion have been comunicated to me in a way no other medium could ever hope to achieve. Treasure indeed!
After some hoofing around in the Irish suburbs of Sydney, I decided to pay a brief visit to the Blue Mountains before I headed off, to see what all the fuss was about. Indeed it was quite nice up there and I got in some walking and much needed fresh air after the stagnation of Sydney. I hiked mostly all of the 2 days I was there and met a mad semi-german philosopher who gave me a fleece (hey, never look a gift jacket in the zipper, as the Greeks used to say). After a bit of a panic at the bus when I couldn't find my ticket, I managed to convince the driver to let me on and headed to Canberra to catch up with some more truck mates from Africa. While there I stayed with Adam and Lisa in a great house where I not only had my own bed, I had an entire room to myself. Even better they had heaters! Sydneysiders seem to be under the collective delusion that they don't have a winter (who are they trying to kid?) and consequently nowhere in the damn place has any heating. Even as far out as Katoomba in the Mountains they really only pay lip service to the idea for central heating. The people of Canberra are under no such delusions, nor could they afford to given the frequent sub-zero winter temps there. After my time there I came with a cracking tourist slogan for the city "Canberra - Not as Dull as they tell you!". Everyone I told I was going to Canberra had something derisive to say from "Why?" to "You're going to spend a whole weekend there?". Canberra and ACT is quite well appointed with some very pleasing bushland around although the city itself I found quite sprawly and uncentered, unfathomably so for a planned city. On arrival I hd been reliably informed that Canberra is the world safest capital - Washington DC being at the other end of the scale. Presumably because its residents are too busy ripping off the Australian taxpayer to bother with petty crime :-)
And there was stuff to do there and things to see, good avocados, interesting people, even one or two who didn't work for the government. We did all the the sites round the capital and the next day went to Tidbinbella Nature Reserve where I saw my first wild koalas. In a rather typical fashion most of them weren't doing much but we did get to see one climbing a tree which is very rare as they sleep about 20hours a day. This fact alone might raise a question as to whether I might have been a furry bear in a former life. In between relevations about my recarnations I found time to have dinner with a couple of Adam and Lisas mates and see Gaby, also from the truck. When me met up, I had some difficulty reconciling this picture of chique urban chic with the combat clad, camel ridin' gal who professed she was going to miss peeing a bush, but hey, I got over it.
Leaving Australia's much maligned capital behind, I headed for the bright lights and trellised balconies of Melbourne. The bus and the road to Melbourne were so smooth at times as I was falling in and out of sleep I felt like I was on a train - although I probably could have done without a 12 hour jounrney as this stage of the trip. I warmed to Melbourne immediatly, it gave an impression of having more heart than Sydney, which in comparision had a mere carbon-copy of what passes for atmosphere. And they had the good sense to have heaters in Melbourne! It seems only a fraction of visitors get here compared to the numbers in Sydney, which is a shame cause they don't know what they're missing. The Melbourners do, and although they would like their city to have its due recognition I get the feeling they are just as happy keeping Melbourne for themselves. And why not? Melbourne has nothing to prove and takes its place as one of the great cities of the world.
Particularly impressive, apart from the fabulous tree lined boulvards and intricate balconies, were the pub in Melbourne, of such charm and character as I thought did not exisist in this hemisphere. I got to catch up with many old friends, all people I'd met OTR (On the Road, maan). I regaled Aussie Scott and Miss Feather (from Africa) with tall tales of my travel both in Asia and in the Outback - hard to know which were scarier! Got to share a glass or dozen of local vino with Jan who I'd met briefly in Nepal. Also got to trial my wine tasting expertise in the up and coming growing region of the Yarra Valley about an hour from the city. However yet more 8pm headaches ensued. Before I knew it my time was up and I was sitting in a pub in Fitzroy at 1am with only the vaguest of notions that I had to get up in 5 hours to fly to New Zealand...
Aoife, St Kilda, Melbourne, Wednesday 5th July 14:00 EST
Exactly a year ago today I set off on a journey I'd been planing all of my adult life. Was it a leap into the unknown? I guess. Was it a leap of faith? Certainly, faith that this was the right thing to do and faith that I would be alright, that somehow I would be looked after and that somehow things which had been out of focus for quite some time would fall into place. Did I have even the slightest idea what I might be letting myself in for? No, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Sometimes you have to jump for what you know will make you happy and worry about the particulars later - a backflip into the deep blue could be the best thing you ever do.
Friends I meet often ask me what was the best moment or the highlights of the trip or the best country. I've been finding this an increasingly difficult question to answer. Especially since I cannot even begin to explain to my questioner the enormity of such a task. At times like those I wish we had telepathy, as for once in my life, words fail me. Would that I could let them tap straight into my brain and experience a year where all the days were highlights, that they could share a hundred breathtaking sunsets or a fraction of the million new sensations and flick through the picture book in my head, better than any coffee table best seller.
It is a strange thing that after all I've seen, experienced, seen and done, the country which draws me back the most is the country I came closed to hating: India. Travelling in India on my own is probably the single most challenging that I have ever done and I crave the challenge again. Particularly writing this, as I am, in Australia which must be the easiest country in the entire world to travel in. Don't get we wrong, there are many people who like having everything laid out, in fact this contintent is full of them, just not me. My love affair with Africa continues of course but like a beautiful place you went to as a child I'm afraid to return lest the memory outshine the reality. There's also an element that I can't see myself travelling independently there, which somehow takes away from the experience by leaving me only with the 'softer' (safari style) options.
The trouble with travel, especially the kind I like to undertake, is that the more you see the more you realise that what you've seen is only the tip of the iceberg. Not so much a tourist trap as a travel trap. I saw a book in a second hand store recently entitled "The Obsessive Traveller" which describes an obsessive traveller as someone, all of whose time, energy and money is used up by travel. And here was me thinking I was an normal if adventurous kinda person and turns out I'm a candidate for self-help! However it seems this obsession may not be entirely my fault, it might in fact be in the blood. In the same shop was a book about eating the right food for your blood type. The theory is that the four blood types appeared at different times in our evolutionary history and that it's healthier for us to eat foods corresponding to the diet of humans at the time of the appearance of our blood type. I had a little flick through and it came as no surprise that my blood type (B) first appeared as mankind moved into the Migratory period. In other words the first to have B blood were Nomads!
And what can I say after a year on a road? People often ask me whether I miss this or that or if I get tired living out of a suitcase. The simple answer is no - I've never been a person who needed "things" particularly when my money could be put to better use (travel for instance!). And living out of a suitcase was never a hardship for me - travel is in my blood after all. Hostel life on the other hand, does get tedious. I think if I'd had to be in a hostel for all of my travels I'd be home by now. At times I'd have traded it all in, not to have to put shoes on to go to the bathroon. That is my idea of hardship not trapzing around lost in Bangkok or trying to squeeze by pack through the door of an Indian bus. The moral of the story for me is that first world countries are too expensive to comfortably travel without working along the way. I could travel forever in the other countries I've been to, now that I've learned to accept and be non-judgemental about rats and roaches - they have been my most consistent travel companions!
As for missing home, well I guess it's always there. There have been times I really wished I could have teleported my mates from home to where ever I was for the night. Often I'd be doing something and think 'So and so would love to be here right now'. There have beeen times I worry that by the time I get back people will have forgotton about me. More recently there have been constant crisis and obsessions about money or lack of it (I just missed out on a job which would have solved all those problems), but for the most part I want for nothing. Even the desire to have a big, fluffy towel has disapated seeing as most of the places here have them for me :-) And the Gods have been good to me on the trip, in the midst of many stories of robberies and countless con artists I've ended up gaining more than I lost!
Material Losses: 1 Sundress, 1 bra top, 1 half-used bar of soap, 1 scarf
Material Gains: 1 hat, 1 tracksuit pants, 2 tops, 1 scarf (subsequently lost though), 1 pair of bath slippers, several more grey hairs and dozens of freckles.
All I have seen and yet I still feel I've seen nothing, with all I've learned only serving to prove that there is much more to learn. People constantly amaze me with their genorousity of sprirt, time and nature. We seem to be bombarded with news and images of the ugliness in humanity, so much so you could be forgiven for agreeing that we are better served by nuking ourselves into oblivion. But before you give up, get out and you'll see a very different side, the utterly non newsworthy kindness and concern for strangers. I feel I can speak with authority about this given that I've been a stranger everywhere for the last 12 months. We have a lot to recommend ourselves and so much good is there to see for those not hell bent on ignoring it. A few weeks ago I saw the film "American Beauty", there's a little monologue Kevin Spacey gives at the end about life and about seeing beauty in every little thing. At any other time I'd probably have passed this off as Hollywood-ised New Age drivel, but instead it struck a chord and seemed to perfectly encapsulate what I have been feeling. At the risk of sounding like a freshly cut cult convert, I'll explain. I wouldn't class myself as an ingenu, however I do have a tendancy to be naively trusting at times and despite the potential danger inherent, I count it as a virtue. People who return from travel decrying Western Society and promoting Asia as some kind of spritual paradise have not seen the same place I saw. It seems everywhere I went I came across people who were in one sense or another outsiders to the places they lived or worked in, and who'd had time to become cynical. I had their jaundiced twists on events and locations to keep my feet on the ground and my head out of the clouds. My point I guess it that I've been shown the ugly underbelly and found beauty still. And when you can do that, it fills you up, gives you clarity and intensifies your feelings - It can be almost overwhelming!
All that Jerry Springer and Showtime movies, disgusted with my three weeks of inactivity I had to punish myself but this I suspected was going way too far. It was the middle of the night in the pitch dark, I was in the middle of a National park, half way up a mountain, could no longer even hear the group, wet, sweating and feeling like I was going to either throw up or faint at any given moment. The only time I could remember feeling this horrific was that time I had to get a blood sample taken after a night drinking, 3 hours sleep and a bus journey to Dublin. I was left marvelling at what a wonderful idea climbing to the top of Mt Warning to see the sunrise had been only a few short days before.
After moving off (finally) from Brisbane the natural first stop was Byron Bay. I meandered into a tourist office and saw that a local company had started doing night climbs up the mountain which got the first rays of the sun in Austrialia - they even laid on a champagne brekfast. Great! I thought. Being semi nocturnal at the time I had great difficulty getting to sleep early for the necessary 2:30am rise. I don't believe I woke up untill a few minutes into the climb when I started to feel really nauseaous. I hadn't eaten enough and that coupled with the fact that the rest of the tour was comprised of young pommies who practically bounced up the mountain on hormones alone, saw me struggling right from the start. Soon the others had gone so far ahead that I couldn't even here them, I guess I would have been spooked if I hadn't been pre-occupied trying not to faint and fall over the track edge. I was about to curse the tour leader for all eternity when I saw her waiting for me, to make sure I was alright, show me some glow worms and tell me I was at the half way point (Hooray!). She had some food too which staved off my emminent starvation long enough for me to get to the top. Rather typically there wasn't a sunrise to speak of but that didn't matter once I had some food in me. We got back around 10:30am , needless to say I was utterly shattered and went to bed after having some more food. I woke at 4:40pm and realised I'd only 20 mins left if I wanted to book my dive course.
It was all rather spur of the moment, the diving thing , and has now all the appearences of becoming a permanant part of my activities. I can see myself having a seperate 'dive budget' next time I go travelling. One afternoon as I was getting up a guy from the local dive school came to the hostel and gave free scuba trials round the pool to drum up business. I gave it a go, found it was 'too easy' and after losing out on a really good job op signed up for the certification course as a way to cheer myself up. The Sundive people were excellent and I had a sound group (even if there was 3 squealing poms on it), we all settled into the scuba thang at the heady depths of 2 meters in the training pool. I was going well with all the excercises, except for the bit where I had to open my eyes under water - I kinda flunked that at first. In no time at all it was time for our first ocean dive(dan-daaan!). The first surprise was that the sea was much warmer than the evil ice pool we'd been swimming around in. I had a healthy amount of nerves but it turned out that the scariest part for me was where you have to enter the water by doing a backward roll from the side of the boat. Its not even like you push yourself back, the weight of the tank sinks you and its a bit disorienting not looking where you're going. Second scary bit was going down the guide rope, as I was last to go down all I could see was everyone elses bubbles surfacing through the bluest sea you could ever imagine. Once you were on the bottom it was all pretty much plain sailing so to speak ! I did have one panic moment when I momentarily forgot about the purge button and could get air without getting a fair whack of saltwater along with it, but I got back on track (yeh, right after I nearly bolted for the surface that is). There was lots of fish life and great topology especially on the later dives where we got taken through an underwater trench. One time I got this cool sensation like I was flying as we zipped past a rock wall in a current. All in all a top notch experience once you realise you simply need to relax - and just breath!
Diving is pretty knackering though, I wasn't able to move in the evenings and I slept all day after the course finished. I did get time to see the lighthouse at Cape Byron and do a bit of Whale watching. This time of year the Humpback Whales are migrating and coming near the coast to feed and breed. In a few hours I saw at least 5 different ones, not to mention a whole heap of dolpins and a Manta Ray. Next stop was Port MacQuarie where I had a chance to admire myself (and others!) on Leanne's home video of us in Africa. It was amazing to see it all again, the bloody thing looked like a National Geographic program and I found hard to believe I really did see all of it with my own two eyes. We didn't manage a drunken night to do Malawi justice but we did get in a bit of hooning, port guzzling and even saw snow in Barrington Tops National Park!! Next was the rather drab and overcast town of Newcastle, cheif attraction for me being its proximity to the Hunter Valley, a major wine growing center. I had a great day out there, despite the raging headache I had at 8 o'clock that night. Now my major problem is convincing my local wine store that they need to import from small, obscure winerys on the other side of the planet for my delictation.
I wasn't long in the BIG smoke of Sydney when I realised I needed to get the hell out so I found a good deal on other course with a local dive school and promptly signed up! The weekend was sheer class and I am now a qualified advanced diver (I am sooo cool!). It all got off to a flying start on the bus on the 3 hour drive south to Jervis Bay, where I decided to wreck Ciaran and the two Mike's head's with a relativly short version of my life story. Clearly Ciaran was Irish and so to was on of the Mike's, the other being an actual Aussie which are a bit scarce in Syndey. They thought I was mad, I thought they were cool, y'know, for Irish people in Sydney and all. It turns out that Ciaran was well aquainted with the Hunter Valley also. He'd spent a week there before christmas, had spent AUD$5000 on wine there and whats more had drunk it all. I was impressed, I was clearly dealing with an epicurian par excellance! You have to respect a man who can blow 5 grand and for having the good taste to do it on Hunter Valley wines. Ciaran was just starting diving and Irish Mike like me was doing the Advanced course. He got to be my dive buddy much to everyone elses chagrin :-)Despite 4m swells we got to dive with seals on our first dive. The sea was rocky as hell and a number of divers (and instructors) were puking once they reached the surface but the seals were defintly worth it...lucky too as the area became too rough to dive in for the rest of the weekend. Later it transpired that Ciaran had been sick and not only had puked at the surface but also through his equipment at 10 METERS!! And on his first ever ocean dive! Ledgend!
The weekend continued with more major puking incidents and some really good fish life around. We did a night dive but you couldn't see much, surprisingly enough(!), although I was fascinated my the phosphoresence - little sea planton with emit a green glowy spark when disturbed. For the most part we were all cold, wet and happy. Can't wait to get some tropical diving going in the Pacific...
Aoife, Sydney, New South Wales, Tuesday 13th June, 11:02pm EST
How much Jerry Springer can one person watch? Given a nice place to stay and unlimited access to cable TV, quite alot. What would the effect of three weeks of watching a lot Jerry Springer and cable movie channels on a person be? Hmm, difficult one! Especially if the sanity of said person was not all it should be to begin with. Suffice to say that after three weeks of doing practically nothing in Brisbane I was thinking it was high time to be leaving, I was in danger of becoming a vegetable.
Typical Day in Nial's Place:
11:00am Wake up on couch
11:30am Begin to think about getting up
12:00pm Watch dismal day outside, wonder if it will stop raining long enough to get out and see stuff around town
12:01pm Get sucked in and watch midday movie
14:00pm Shite! Day almost gone already. Wonder about bothering to go into town this late.
14:30pm Wait for bus into town
15:00pm Actually get into town after just missing bus at 2:30
17:30pm Walk to Nials Office and get bus/ferry back to house with him.
18:00pm+ Spend evening watching TV and/or watching killer spider and/or watching Justin and Mark play indoor cricket.
23:00pm Everyone with a life goes to bed. Get sucked into watching weirdass late movie.
Not that there wasn't plenty to do in Brisbane if I had a mind to do it, I just never seemed to get around to it. The weather was also a factor. They say that Brisbane as an almost perfect climate, all I can say is that I must have arrived during the "almost" part of it. Not only was it a fair deal colder than Perth but it rained for two solid weeks after I arrived there. Another interesting point is that during all my time in the country I never came across anything remotely deadly in the line of creepy crawlies (the locals were pretty scary but), however not long after I turned up Nials flat had a Huntsman spider move into the veranda. This little stronzo wouldn't kill ya but was right up there with the best of them for nasty venom.
The day after I arrived Nial threw a quintessential ozzie barbie to celebrate Easter Sunday, which had a notable absence of bona fide Ozzies, or typical ozzie weather for that matter! Once we figured out how to light the barbie it was all plain saling. It must be said that the ozzie BBQ is as much part of the cooking equipment here as the mircowave. Consequently BBQs are much easier to orchestrate than at home, no messing about with charcoal, lighter fluid, burnt fingers and undercooked saussies round here. You just connect up the gas and with a flick you have a hot plate to sizzle on - not a trace of smoke anywhere. That night Nials flatmates took us out to sample the local nightlife. We were required to spruce ourselves up for the occasion as Brisbane apparently had the same enlightened door policies as Perth. We arrived at a place called City Rollers to find there was some sort of a competition going on which involved young nubiles parading around in the smallest bikinis that anti-porno laws would allow. I took one look at the nearly nude girls and the the woofing crowd and thought "Boy, I am ever in Queensland!". The day after was ANZAC day, which on the surface looks like a national holiday to honour war heros and quite commendable at that. To me it looked more like an excuse for Jap bashing and I was left to wonder what the state of european unity might be if every year we showed re-runs of WWII news footage with various trench veterans decrying the Gerrys for their "just not cricket" behaviour.
In the midst of the ensuing frenzy of vegatation there were a few highlights and a few beers taken at QUT(Queensland University of Technology) Student Bar of a Friday night. Nial and I made use of a long weekend to take a visit to Byron Bay. If there's anywhere you'll have heard of before you get to Australia, outside of the major cities, Byron Bay will be it. If only for this reason I was pre-disposed not to like the place but to spite myself I didn't. Long known as a hippy hangout and centre for all things alternative, it was the only small town and one of few places at all in Australia which had a personality of its own. It had a definite feel to it, it was fresh and exhilirating and all this kept in the face of the masses of backpackers that descend on the place all year round. And I had my first real schooner - bliss, it felt like a pint (almost). Nial put me on to the joys of Tooheys Old, which a neat little beer particularly if you are missing the guiness. There was even some good live acts, a rare beast indeed in the outback. I got a bit of a shock at the hostel though, $25 a night - Welcome to New South Wales!!
I managed to meet up with one of the Kakadu gang in Byron and we hungout in the "oh-so-alternative" Arts Factory while Nial went training for his upcoming half marathon. I managed to leave Byron without doing any of the required touristy stuff like climbing the lighthouse...Next weekend I borrowed a couple of Nials mates from Brisbane and we went down around Byron again, this time to a little place called Nimbin. Why we were going to an obscure New England town is another question. Somewhere back in hippy times this town allowed a Festival to take place and ever since then it has been synonymous with the "Alternative" Lifestyle with all its usual connotations, accquiring it the nickname Sinbin. As if it needed further underlining, every year the town hosts the Mardi Grass Festival to celebrate the areas harvest, you don't have to be a genious to figure out of what. Me and a couple of QUT staticians, Adrian and Simon went to check it out - scientific research only of course. Seeing as all the hostels were booked out well in advance we decided to be self sufficient and pack a tent in our 4WD. One minor difficulty was that Adrian was on crutches and so Simon, who's among the few Ozzies I've met in my time here, had to drive the ancient Range Rover. It looked the part though, like the vehicles on 'Born Free' or something. Unfortunatly to really blend in with the crowd that weekend, we'd have needed a Combi!! After all we'd heard about it, there wasn't very much going on and Nimbin apart from a few hippified front facades doesn't have atmosphere, but it was worth the trip down just too witness an entire town stoned! That evening with all the campsites in town full we headed to the hills and camped Nightcap forest where we amused ourselves well into the dark. All I can say is Nacho Cheese cornchips have never tasted so good!
Due to the bad weather we were back to reality and back to Brisbane early the next afternoon. The weather cleared up and we decided to keep the goodtimes rolling in Simons appartment with the help of lovely Tim and Rhumba fan Godfrey. Godfrey, one of Simons flatmates was from Zimbabwe and wonder of wonders he had my favourite Nairobi boogy music on video. It was a real treat for me as I hadn't heard it since I lost my cassette in a Bombay cab. The guys were less impressed than they should have been with my dancing though - flippin' mzungos! The good times rolled until I crashed in the flat - I knew that second crate of beer was going to cause problems. Simon had been wondering what he had to do to get a mention in these journals. I reckon lending me your bed definitly clinched it mate!
Now that I've got myself off the couch and on the road it remains only for me to thank Justin and Mark for the many insights into betting and other essential elements of Ozzie culture, Adrian for having a car, Simon and Tim for letting some nutty chick run riot over their flat and of course Nial for having me stay, listening to my bull, introducing me to Tooheys Old, lending me his mates and generally being great.
Aoife, Byron Bay, New South Wales, Saturday 20th May, 10:45pm EST
Usually when I sit to a blank page (or a blank screen) it fills up before I know it, almost without my help. Recently the blank pages have seemed less like vessels to catch the letters,words and thoughts which flow of their own accord from my pen and more like gaping voids that I am unable to fill - or even begin to try to fill. Perhaps this is what comes of too much looking at the desert. Perhaps this is why the Australian Aboriginals are one of the few surviving world cultures never to have developed a written tradition...or maybe I just had writers block....
I started to feel the urge to write again in Alice and was able to draft many of the missing episodes on the truck to Perth but try as I might I still couldn't get motivated to type them up. However with the advent of free off-line work here in my mates place, its become a little easier. I was pretty wrecked by the time I arrived in Perth, not to mention in need of a shower and clean clothes. My socks were now capable of independent thought, seeing as I'd failed to wash them in either Darwin or Alice after the Kakadu adventures. One of the first things I noticed on my return to Perth was how much cooler it was. When I left temperatures were in the high thirties and these days it was a mere 26 to 28. There was a guy I met from Oranmore who was most disturbed by this. He'd only just flown out and marvelled at my remark at an evening breeze of 25 degrees was a little chilly.
I headed to the Fremantle markets the next day and realised that I had to get out of Perth. I'd but it down to culture shock before but I was positive now that there was something about the town which made me want to kill myself. But what was it? I'm still not sure but I have a few theories. When I'm there I always really want to be in Asia. Understandable I guess, since as well as being the worlds most isolated city, a full half of Perth's population are immigrants. But there's something else too. Its just so urban and trendy and dressy I always feel like the country cousin, quite apart from the fact that I can't bloody get into to any bars at night. They all have strict dress codes in particular for footwear - no sandals allowed! Its like everything I never liked about Dublin and I just can't cope with it.
I spent a week in Perth, didn't see the South East of WA, did see lovely Rottnest Island and had a few interesting leads on jobs that came to nothing. And of course I had a close encounter with some nuns. Mum had sent me packing to Australia with the only contact she knew of in the entire continent, her mothers cousin who'd left in the 30's was a nun in Perth. Having not much else to do and being in need of a good feed I decided to check it out. I rang the old nun up and I swear to God it could have been my Granny I was talking to, her voice was that similar. I called into the convent in Subiaco a few days later. I was a little anxious showing up to some woman even my mother had never met on a tenuous family relation but I needn't have been. Everyone there, they all seemed to be Irish, was lovely and I was the star attraction for the few hours I spent there. It was the swankest convent I'd ever seen and certainly heaps more homely than the cold, echoic nunneries I remember from home. A good time was had by all. And I got lots to eat not to mention a doggy bag of scones to take with me!
I was staying a great hostel in Perth which had thoughtful extras like free bike and snorkel hire and BBQs and wine nights. Unfortunatly one of said wine nights was the night before I flew to Perth. It was Good Friday and much to my surprise Oz has the same prohibitions on selling drink and having a good time as the Ould Sod does, luckily the owner had bought enough supplies for everyone. Last thing I remember was talking NI politics to guys from "The 'Pool" while listening to the Beatles, next thing I remember was waking up at 7am on the common room sofa, to the cound of someone cleaning. Well flying with a hangover was as much fun as it ever is, the highlight of the day being the aerial view of Sydney at night and the fact that I actually felt human by the time I got to Brisbane. I must say its a bit of an education on how mad I was to be going overland all that time when you are in a part of the world where you can fly all day and still be in the same goddamn country - ridiculous carry on!
And so in one short day, I had accomplished what I didn't in 3 months overland - I had ecaped from the outback and reached the bright lights of civilisation...
Aoife, Brisbane, Queensland, Monday 1st May, 10:31am EST (Eastern Std Time)
All roads lead to Perth. Well at least they did for me, seeing as I couldn't change my ticket I had to go back to pick up my flights. I thought it might be kinda neat to see some 'real' desert and also the frontier mining town of Kalgoorlie so I got a transit on a truck back from Alice - nothing at all to do with the fact this was the cheapest possible way to do it. We got back to Alice on a Thursday and I had to hang around till the following Tuesday for the truck to leave. Meanwhile Paula was looking for a cheap way south to Adelaide and Pete was looking for some passengers to share costs and drive north with him to Cairns. Pete eventually found two French girls and had made it up to Cairns in record time and even before I got back to Perth! It was strange to leave him that morning in Alice, we'd been together for over 10,000kms and just over two months - in fact since I left home there have been only 5 other people who I'd spent longer with, and they didn't really have a choice about it :-) . Two months is practically an eternity in traveller circles and we'd been through much. We'd seen the beauty of WA, been bored and kept each other entertained through the floods, almost had enough of each other towards the end of the road to Darwin, but most of all we'd shared a lot of laughs. Here's to you Petey, so long and thanks for all the pasta...
After all that, there's a good chance we'll see each other again in Brisbane. Paula found a lift but not before we'd shared a couple of wine nights in the lovely hostel we found and swanned around at the Alice Springs Races. The hostel organises trips to the races every Saturday and gets passes to the Party Tent. Paula had a few dollar bets but I gave up after the first horse I backed was a non-runner that wouldn't go into the stall and stamped on the jockey!! One night we even found ourselves getting chatted up by two nice lookers. They turned out to be eighteen and I was a little freaked out by finding people my kid brothers age attractive - ok so he's hardly a kid anymore, but its the principle!
My epic three day voyage from Alice Springs to Perth via a dirt track through the Great Victorian Desert started as it meant to continue, delayed due to something being wrong with truck. First it was the suspension on the trailer and that was before we'd even left Alice. The company Travelabout made most of its money on a 6 day trip from Perth to Alice and figured out it could make another few bob by taking passengers on the trucks as they transited them back. Being cheaper than the regular buses which go via Adelaide and the most direct way, the truck was almost full and consisted of Pom types except for me and this German guy. They were a good bunch but I was preoccupied the first morning giving them the impression that I was the quiet, shy type. It wasn't long before they came to the conclusion that I was in fact the loud, odd type. I reckon I should be on commission for Tourism Malaysia these days. Mike a guy on the truck was flying home soon and had the option of a stopover in KL. I convinced him he'd be mad not to take it up and provided the full tourist service with suggested itineraries, prices and accommodation! Well it kept me occupied for five minutes. Due to the delays in starting we only got as far as the Rock areas on the first night and bushcamped outside the Olgas. It was my first time in a swag and it was pretty cool. A swag is simply a heavy waterproof sack with a mattress inside and you sleep in it with outside cover. You kinda wrap yourself in your sleeping bag and then in it like a kebab and camp out under the stars. It's soft and warm but your movement it quite restricted, nothing you couldn't get used to...
We watched the stars til late and there's nothing like the beauty of the pre dawn light out in the bush. That evening Craig the driver introduced us to the Emu in the sky. Not so much constellation or pattern of stars as much as a pattern of blackness between the lights. If you looked hard, sure enough there it was, it head starting under the Southern Cross. It's said that it's forbidden for the aboriginal people to hunt emus while the Emu is in the sky - not a bad law seeing as the Emu is seen in the sky only during the breeding season. For the last while, I had been worrying about the rest of the trip, my diminishing funds and the necessity of getting a job but as we drove along through the scrublands something occurred to me. Leave the others to the Rat Race, travelling through the desert on a beat up old truck with a few good strangers I am as rich as I'll ever need to be.
Next day we crossed the border back in to WA and things got a bit hairy (read annoying!). Not long after lunch we came across two Range Rovers bogged by the side of a flooded road. Apparently the road was quite ok to drive on but not liking the look of it one of the vehicles had opted to go around into the bush and had gotten bogged. The second vehicle had pulled the first out and had then gotton bogged itself. The worst of it was all the passengers had been there since 8am that morning. It was into this situation that Craig in his wisdom decided to throw us. After various attempts to dig the second car out had gotten nowhere, Craig , in an act of bush bravado which I will never understand, decided to back the truck up and try to tow the guy out. Despite the fact the that our truck is 2 tonnes AND the four wheel drive inoperative!! We had to wait 2 hours for someone to pull us out of the resultant bogging. This was the limit I thought, I am NEVER travelling by land in Australia again. My patience was well and truly out, to everyone else this was off-road adventure but to me it was Deja-vu with a vengeance. Another two hours stuck by flooded road. Next morning we woke to find that Craig hadn't changed over the battery for the fridge power so we had to push start the truck. I was seriously beginning to wonder if he wasn't doing this on purpose. Down the road a piece we stop to get showers and fix the battery at the Tjukayirla roadhouse, which when pronounced correctly sounds awfully like "Tiocaigh Ar La". I didn't know it yet but we were going to see a lot more of this roadhouse before the day was out. About a mile outside the roadhouse something broke and the truck came to a complete stop. We walked back. It took 3 hours to fix. I was really finished with this whole breakdown scene and was considering having one of my own. Even that wasn't the end of it! We stoped for a break at dusk and the fix from earlier gives way. We give up and cook diner and the lads have it fixed just after grub. We drive til late and spend a few hours sleeping on a side road during that freezing night before hauling ourselves back on the truck at 4am. With a few short breaks for the driver we get to Perth at 5pm that evening. One hell of a drive!
Aoife, Perth, Western Australia, Thursday 20th April, 14:15 WST
